Nine Ball

by amazinggracie2

Summary:

When the eight ball slammed into the side wall pocket and the game was over, Max felt all the tension flood out of his system for one brief second as he claimed another win. He sighed with relief and held his hand out to the other guy.

Then the fight broke out.

OR

A twist on if the song Nine Ball by Zach Bryan was about Max Verstappen.

Notes:

Hi everyone! This is my first fic ever!

So if you find any grammar issues.... no you didn't :)

I'd love to hear your thoughts, your dreams, your queries, or anything in between!

And please remember that this is fiction and has nothing to do with everyones favorite racing boys

Chapter 1: Bruises and Cue Balls (The Fool's Bargain)

Max leaned over the table and closed one eye. He took a deep breath and lined up the pool cue. If he pocketed the next two balls, he would finally have enough to pay Danny back the money he owed him, or he could put some money in his gas fund for the truck, or better yet, he could give Oscar spending money for a field trip the kid had coming up on Friday. He shook his head and focused on the task at hand – no use counting until he actually won.

The crack of the cue ball against the orange five vibrated in his teeth, but the ball made its way toward the back right pocket and fell gracefully into the net anyway. The other man grumbled and took a sip of the cheap beer he was drinking. He reeked of cigarettes and the smell made Max grimace as he circled the table and locked his sights on the black eight-ball. 

Max knew Danny was watching from behind the bar but he didn’t look over to him. He felt angry eyes watching him from the other corner of the room but he didn’t even spare a glance in that direction. The game was almost over—he just needed to focus on this. 

He pointed at the side wall pocket, “That’s where the 8’s going.”

The man grumbled some more and looked over to the corner of the bar eyeing the cash they bet on the game. Max took another deep breath before leaning down and resting his cheek on his shoulder. His hands were steady but Max took a second to calm his fluttering breath. If there was one thing he was good at, it was this. There was no reason to be nervous – not yet.
In…out…one. 

In…out…two. 

When the eight slammed into the side wall pocket and the game was over, Max felt all the tension flood out of his system for one brief second as he claimed another win. He sighed with relief and held his hand out to the other guy. 

Then the fight broke out. 

The man Max was playing threw his beer bottle at the floor, the glass shattering in every direction, “Are you fucking kidding me? You dirty liar!” 

Max dropped his hand and backed up but found himself between the man and the pool table with nowhere to go. “I’m not paying you shit, Verstappen! Your son is a fucking pool shark. You lied.” He pointed past Max to where Jos was sitting. 

“Tommy, you already put down the fucking money. You can’t get it back now. Maybe next time don’t bet your paycheck the day you get it on winning a game against a kid you’ve never seen play. The boy’s not a shark - he’s just better than you!”

Tommy growled and stalked closer standing almost over Max who braced himself against the table—the wood biting into the flesh against his spine. He knew Jos wouldn’t intervene if this guy swung at him—he rarely did. Luckily before Max could add another bruise to his collection, Danny yelled from the bar, “Tommy, get the fuck out before I get Raikkonen to throw you out! You knew what you were doing when you said yes to a game!” 

Kimi took a threatening step toward the table and Tommy backed up away from the icy bouncer but he snarled over Max’s head, “I’m not fucking done with you, Verstappen! Or your shit bar!” He spit on the ground at Max’s feet, turned, and stormed out of the dive. 

Max could hear his dad laughing behind him but he turned toward Danny instead. He mouthed “thanks” to Danny who just gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded before going back to cleaning pint glasses. Kimi didn’t even look in his direction, he just stalked back outside to follow Tommy out the front door. He would make sure the man drove off and didn’t come back until his temper settled.

When Max finally turned to the dark corner of the bar where his dad was waiting, Jos had stopped laughing. “That was sloppy.”

Max nodded as he inched closer, pool cue and chalk discarded on the table. “You could’ve won that game in two turns but you chose to delay an extra 20 minutes. Why?”

“I don’t know. I wanted it to seem more real.” 

“You wanted it to seem real?” He stood up. Max and him were just about the same height now but Jos’ anger took up enough space that Max felt small against its shadow. “How many times do we have to have this conversation? If you cost me money then you don’t make any.”

“Dad, you—“

The slap barely phased the bar regulars who had seen Verstappen do far worse to his boy, but Daniel winced anyway when it landed. 

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that, Max? What were you saying?” Jos looked down at him and waited.

Max paused before trying again, “You prom—“

The second slap made Daniel grab the bar to steady himself. Please just tell him what he wants to hear, Max, please.

“I’ll say it again since you need a reminder. If. You. Cost. Me. Money.” He paused, “You. Don’t. Make. Any. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“What was that? Didn’t quite hear you over the noise in here?” A hush blanketed the room and people turned to stare.

Max felt all the eyes suddenly on him, but he grit his teeth and spoke louder anyway. “Yes, sir.”

Jos smiled and handed him a dollar and clapped him hard on the shoulder. “Buy yourself a soda and practice finishing in two turns so next time we can play two games for real money instead of one lousy one for that jackass’ shitty paycheck. I’ll be back in a couple hours.” He leaned in closer and whispered, “If you put that stick down, for even a second, we’ll be down here all night tomorrow until I’m satisfied you know how to listen. Got it?”

Max swallowed and considered the amount of homework he still needed to do tonight. He eyed his backpack peeking out from behind the bar. He watched Danny pretend to dry a glass while secretly listening to Jos. He took too long to respond. 

The third slap made Daniel grind his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He should quit this job. He should call the cops. He should… he should… when Jos walked up to the bar and placed an envelope down Daniel grabbed it instinctively. “That’s Helmut’s cut. Make sure he gets it tonight, Ricciardo, and don’t fucking skim off the top. I know how much is in there and I’ll check with him.” Daniel smiled without it touching his eyes.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Verstappen.” 

Jos slammed the door on his way out and Daniel released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Conversations started again and the regulars went back to ignoring the gangly teenager in the center of the room. 

Max racked the balls, shuffled over to the bar, and sat down. The pool cue thunked against the floor where it dropped near his feet. 

“Fuck.” His head fell forward and thudded against the wood.

Danny poured half a sprite and half a Red Bull into a glass and put it in front of him. 

“What are we working on tonight?” 

Max slowly raised his eyes to Danny’s and sighed. 

“Trig.” Danny grabbed the backpack and reached across the bar to place it next to Max on a separate stool. 

“Well let’s get going before Helmut gets here.” He thrummed his fingers across the bar and watched Max pull out a textbook, a notebook, and some pens. 

A yellowing purplish bruise Daniel hadn’t noticed earlier snaked up Max’s left forearm. Daniel sighed, grabbed an ice pack, and passed it to Max. He should ask about it, but Max was being cagey lately with details and Daniel didn’t want to spook him when they both still had work to do tonight. Max barely looked at the ice pack before placing it on his forearm. 

The door opened and Max whipped his head to look, giving Daniel a perfect view of his reddening cheek and jaw, but it was just another regular shaking off his wet raincoat and moseying up to the bar.

Daniel nodded at the man and poured him a PBR. 

 

—

 

Max worked his way through homework problems and Daniel poured cheap beer for the better part of an hour. Sometime after 10, Kimi stuck his head in the door and whistled once before shutting it again. 

Max jumped off the stool and grabbed his pool cue. He broke the diamond racked balls as Daniel put the school work away and wiped down the bar. When Max was sinking his second shot, Helmut walked through the door. 

“Ricciardo, a G&T.” 

“You got it, boss.” Daniel poured the drink and backed away. 

His eyes widened when he saw Max. “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.”

“Hey, Doc.” Max looked up at him but then concentrated back on his game. 

“You playing by yourself?”

“Dad wants me to practice.” Helmut hummed and grabbed the drink from the bartop. Max hit the purple four and it ricocheted off the pocket edge. He winced when the ball hit two more walls and landed in a tight place near the eight ball.

Helmut made a soft noise and walked closer to the table. Daniel’s eyes followed him but he didn’t dare move from behind the bar. The last time he got between someone and Max, there had been hell to pay. Three broken ribs later, Max made him swear on the drive back from the hospital that he wouldn’t get involved unless someone was out cold or… Oscar was there. Daniel, hopped up on pain meds, only nodded in response. 

Max went for the four again and nailed the side pocket. The clink of the ball in the casing of the net came in time with Daniel’s deep breath. 

Helmut moved a step closer. Max swung around to the other side of the table and lined up on the five. His strike sent the ball sailing toward the pocket but it slammed back out a split second later. Helmut tsked and Max winced again. 

Daniel poured some Miller Lites for three guys that came in still wearing steel toed boots. They headed to the back table to play a round. 

Danny’s eyes stayed locked on the game happening in front of him. Max always tried to play at the table closest to the bar. So Danny could watch the game and give him pointers, but also so if anything happened then Max was close enough to the door that Danny could call Kimi in to intervene. It had been a while since someone really took a swing at Max for winning a game, but it was always a possibility. When there was real money on the line, tempers got hot, fast and Max didn’t really have a history of fighting back against his dad’s customers. 

Max lined up the five again and shot it into the side pocket. Helmut was close enough now to set his glass down on the edge of the table. He crossed his arms as Max moved over to the six. The green ball went in the corner pocket but the cue ball followed close behind it. Max shook his head and started toward the pocket but Helmut was faster and plucked it from the net. 

“I see what your father is talking about. You’re playing like shit tonight.” Helmut turned the white ball around in his hand. “This should be easy for you by now. You don’t do anything else. I mean, what could possibly be going through that head of yours tonight that isn’t about the game?”

Max set the pool cue down on the table and didn’t respond. 

“Your job is to go to school then come here and play. That’s it. You’re not good for anything else. So if you aren’t good at this. . . then what’s the point of you?”

Max swallowed hard and backed up a step. He could already smell blood in the water. His shoes crunched on glass and Helmut’s eyebrows rose. “You can’t even win a simple game against yourself - you delay, mess up, and invite mistakes almost every other shot. Why did Jos tell you to practice tonight instead of playing for money, hmm?”

Max backed up again and more glass crunched underfoot. “I did play for money.”

Helmut’s eyes narrowed and he set the cue ball down on the head spot. “How much?”

“Tommy Bentley’s paycheck.”

Helmut turned toward the bar, “How much is in the envelope, Ricciardo? 

Danny placed it down on the bar, crossed his arms, and softly said “$1,000.” Danny knew what this meant for Max, but he couldn’t stop what was about to happen or what would happen if Jos came in while Helmut was still here. 

Helmut scoffed and picked up the pool stick. “$1,000 dollars? That’s it! You played against a guy that makes $18 bucks an hour and then Jos leaves without so much as a second game? No - you’re not telling me something. What is it?”

More glass crunched as Helmut and Max danced with the space between them - one step forward, one step back. Danny thought it almost looked like a waltz. 

“I-well…” 

“Tell me!” Helmut raised his voice and moved forward. Max found his back against a different table. 

The men two tables over stopped their game and one of them shouted toward Helmut, “Hey, leave the kid alone! He’s not doing anything.” 

“Stay out of this!” Helmut spat without turning around. “Tell me now.” He brought the pool stick up like a baseball bat and Danny couldn’t help but step forward toward the gap in the bar. 

The same guy who yelled started walking over. “Yo, old man, leave the kid alone! He’s like 16 years old! Whatever problem you got isn’t gonna be solved by screaming at him.”

Helmut spun around and brought the pool stick down over his knee, snapping it in two. He threw the smaller end on the table and held the larger end in his hand, pointing the splintering jagged edge toward the approaching stranger, “You want to fight over some kid you don’t know? Be my guest.”

The guy held his hands up and backed up. He blew air quickly out of his mouth and said, “Nah, this is above my paygrade.” He turned to his friends, “Yo, let’s go.” The two other men shuffled between tables and the three men left the bar and headed back out into the rain. 

Danny rolled his eyes and quickly shot a text to Kimi outside to be ready just in case Helmut got aggressive. The bouncer couldn’t really interfere between Jos and Max, but Helmut would listen if Kimi got involved. He turned back as Max edged closer to the bar. 

“You didn’t lose… There's money in the envelope. Plus if you had lost…” Helmut gestured to Max’s face with the sharp shattered handle like a conductor with a baton. “I doubt I’d be seeing those baby blues right now.” 

Max had edged closer to the bar until his lower back met the edge of a barstool, but at Helmut’s words he stiffened. Helmut wasn’t Jos, but he could still do some damage with real consequences. Jos bought the building from him a decade ago and he was still paying it off by way of Max’s winnings, so if Helmut wanted Max to do something, Jos was usually happy to oblige. 

Before Danny could step towards Max or say something to get the old man’s attention, Helmut raised his hand again and quickly brought it forward. Max’s body dropped to the ground purely out of instinct but Danny brought his hands up in front of his face instead. The sharp pain that blossomed in his left palm was like an explosion. Then the clack of wood on wood sounded through the room as the jagged baton ricocheted off the bartop and onto the floor, rolling to a stop near a dark corner.  

“Pathetic.” Helmut shook his head at the kid on the ground and went to grab his drink where he left it but ended up knocking the highball glass onto the felt table. The liquid and ice cascaded amongst the remaining balls and soaked quickly into the old green covering leaving it soppy and soaked. 

In a movement quick for his age, Helmut strode towards the bar, grabbed the envelope of cash, and was out of the building before Daniel even realized his hand was bleeding. 

“Shit.” Danny grabbed the white rag he was using to clean off the bar top and wrapped it around his palm which was dripping blood all down his wrist and forearm. Once he stalled the bleeding enough that there was no more threat of contamination to his space behind the bar, his eyes scoured the room searching for Max, but he didn’t find what he was looking for. 

“Max?” The bar regulars went back to chatting after the old man left, rolling their eyes and gossiping about age, dementia, and short tempers. There was no sign of the kid who had thrown himself to the floor a moment ago.

“Maxie?” Danny said again and walked around the bar to see if he was hiding near the stools, but there was nothing on the ground except glass from the broken bottle Tommy smashed earlier. Daniel made a mental note to sweep later and make sure all the shards got cleaned up.

“Hey! Where’s Max?” Danny yelled to the dozen or so people sitting or playing at various parts of the room. People turned their heads but no one said anything. Daniel noticed a man in a dark uniform in the opposite corner of the room watching the scene unfold but he ignored him for now. He didn’t have time to think about the cop or how he walked in unnoticed by the usually attentive bartender. 

Danny took a lap of the room and still didn’t see anything. He stuck his head out and asked Kimi, but he hadn’t seen anyone after Helmut left. His usual stoic face broke into a half smile at the sight of Daniel’s hand, but the bartender didn’t have time to tell him the story yet. He was fucked if he lost track of Max.

He took another lap around the bar but still saw no one resembling the teen. He glanced once at the door behind the bar that led to the upstairs apartment, but he didn’t think Max would go home just yet. 

When Daniel walked stubbornly back behind the bar, sure he would be fired for losing Max, he found the kid wedged in the corner between the low fridge and the rack of well liquor. 

Danny sighed with relief and squatted down, taking in the sight of the gangly boy trying to make himself disappear. 

“Hey, Maxie.” Danny whispered. 

Max’s eyes turned toward him but they looked past his face. “He’s gonna kill me.” He whispered back. 

“Why’s that?” 

Max shook his head and somehow made himself smaller in the tight space. 

“Maxie…” Max held his shoulders tight and didn’t answer. 

“Come on, kid. You gotta come out. You know you can’t be back here and…” Danny really didn’t want to say the words that came to his lips, but he knew he had to. “and if he comes back and doesn’t see you at a table…” Daniel didn’t need to finish that sentence. He could see the bruise snaking around Max’s forearm clearly from this angle. It had Jos’ claws written all over it—practically stitched into the lining of Max’s soul at this point.

Max looked up at Danny this time, finally seeing him. His blue eyes were bright but there was worry in every small movement of his irises. He uncurled from the corner and moved his hands to hold out the broken pieces of the pool stick. “Danny, he’s gonna kill me. This cost him $200. He’s gonna make me play double the games I usually play to make up for it.” 

“Max, come on. He made more money than that tonight off Tommy Bentley. It’ll be okay.”

Max uncurled some more and swung his legs out but shook his head. “It won’t be. I already owe him for the truck, Daniel.”

Daniel could feel himself getting frustrated, but he wasn’t mad at Max, just at yet another shitty situation Jos put him in. “You don’t owe him for the truck, Max. He bought the truck for you without asking and then told you that you owed him money. It’s bullshit and you know it.”

Max stood up and huffed, “It doesn’t matter if it’s bullshit. He told me I owe him money so I’m paying him. Isn’t that why you’re working here? Don’t you still owe him $100 grand?” 

Daniel could feel his temper rising and went to respond but the door opened slightly and Kimi whistled again before shutting it. 

Max’s eyes grew wide and he booked it out from behind the bar and towards his usual table. Daniel looked up at the clock and saw it was 11:20. Jos was early—never a good thing.

The door flew open and slammed against the back wall. Jos stood there holding onto the scruff of Oscar’s orange rain coat like he was trying to drag him out of a raging river and not simply into the bar. Jos yanked sharply and Oscar stumbled forward. 

“Now get your ass upstairs! I don’t want to see you ’til tomorrow!”

Oscar scrambled forward and swiveled until his back was toward Danny and he was facing Max’s dad. Cornered prey baring its teeth at the closest predator. 

Jos took a step forward, “Now!”

Oscar didn’t need to be told again. He beelined for the doorway behind the bar that led to their upstairs apartment and was gone in an instant. 

Jos surveyed the scene in front of him—Max holding the two pieces of splintering, useless wood, Helmut’s drink seeping into the felt green covering, Danny nursing a bleeding hand. 

Before he could ask a question, one of the patrons in the back stood up and moseyed up to the front. Jos’ eyes widened when he saw the man in the light cascading from the pool tables.

“Jos, how are ya?”

“Horner,” he responded, his face sour like he smelled something unpleasant, “it’s a busy night for you to be in here. Don’t you work on Thursdays?”

Christian chuckled, “Nah, not tonight. I worked a double yesterday so I figured I would spend some of my time off watching your boy rake in the dough from some unsuspecting tourists. Seems like I missed it tonight though, no one’s here.”

Jos pursed his lips, “Not tonight, Christian. It’s a school night. Max is supposed to be upstairs doing his homework. Isn’t he?”

Christian rearranged his belt, “I would bet he is.” He turned toward Max who slowly backed up away from the table and was trying to hide the broken pool cue pieces behind him. “Did you sneak down here, kid, or did you plan to play against someone tonight?”

Max’s teeth clacked together. “I-uh-I just wanted to get some practice in, Sheriff. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”

Christian’s badge shown on his uniform even in the dim lighting off the pool tables. “You know you’re not supposed to be in here without your dad, kid. Sixteen-year-olds aren’t exactly welcome in these kinds of establishments by themselves. Especially not behind the bar.” He eyed Danny whose jaw felt tight. Horner definitely witnessed Helmut’s meltdown, Danny looking for Max, and then Max reappearing behind the bar. The cop was always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Jos clicked his tongue. “He lives here, Sheriff. He’s a big boy who doesn’t need me to watch him all the time. And besides, Ricciardo over there would never serve him alcohol. He knows better than that. Don’t you?” 

Danny held the washcloth that used to be white tight against his bleeding hand. “Max and Oscar only get water or soda and they’re never behind the bar.” He heard the mistake in his answer even before the cop responded. 

Christian raised an eyebrow, “Your other boy’s in here too, Jos? I thought there was only one pool shark in the family?”

Jos’ frown deepened but before he could respond Max cut in, “Oscar’s not in here. It’s just me.”

Christian turned back to Max and his features softened. “Just you, huh?” He paused and looked Max over, “What happened to your stick there, kid?”  

Jos raised an eyebrow, “I want to know that too.”

Max reluctantly brought his hands forward, each one holding a separate end of the jagged wood, “It broke.”

Jos rolled his eyes, “I can see that, Max, but pool sticks don’t just break. What happened?”

Max turned to look at Danny who held Christian’s gaze. “Um… it was a trick shot?”

Jos’ face stayed cold. “A trick shot? A trick shot broke a $200 pool cue?” Jos whistled, “You’re gonna need a better excuse than that. Let me see those.” He pointed at the pieces in Max’’s hands.

There was no use arguing with him. Max walked over and handed the two halves to Jos. Jos inspected them and took a special interest in the one with blood soaked into the shards. He looked up at Danny who suddenly found the grain of the bartop to be the most fascinating thing in the room.

Christian broke the silence. “What happened to your arm there, kid?” He reached out to touch Max, but the boy backed up towards Danny and doubled the distance between himself and the two men.

Max pulled his arms behind his back. “Gym class.”

Christen hummed in response. 

Jos finally had enough. “Max, get your shit and get upstairs. We’ll talk about you being down here without me tomorrow. And we’ll talk about destruction of property and the consequences for lying .” Max winced as Jos shook his head and set the two halves of the pool cue down on the soaked felt table. 

Max grabbed his backpack before also running to the door that led to their upstairs apartment. He nodded at Danny as he passed but Danny’s eyes were locked on the two men standing in the center of the bar. 

As an afterthought Jos yelled after him, “Make sure the kid eats something. I found him practicing in the rain on the field across town with Vettel’s boy.” Max nodded and softly shut the door behind him. 

Daniel watched the two men stare at each other. He didn’t trust Christian, but the man was one of Max’s only shots out of this. Daniel had been trying for a few months now to get Christian to intervene into whatever this situation could be called but it never went anywhere. He knew the cop wasn’t on Jos’ payroll like some of the others and it always riled Jos up to see him here, but so far the Sheriff was all talk and no actual help. If anything, he just made Jos angrier and it always blew up in Max’s face. 

“What kind of bar are you running here, Jos? Sixteen-year-olds playing pool after 11 pm, broken glass and pool sticks, and a biohazard of a bartender.” He nodded his head at Daniel who pulled his hand close to his chest. “Seems like someone should do something about it.”

“Get out of here, Christian, you’re not welcome around here.”

“Everyone’s welcome here, Jos. That’s the point of a bar.” He sidestepped the other man and walked evenly towards the door. “You better be careful what you do to that kid, Jos. Cause you’re one gamble away from losing custody of both of them. I bet there’s quite a few people in this town willing to testify.” 

“This is rural Texas, Horner. No one gives a shit how I parent my son. That’s my right. And no cop’s gonna tell me how to discipline the teenage boys in my house.”

Christian shook his head, “We’ll see, Verstappen, we’ll see.”

Jos chuckled, a dark twisted thing and Daniel grimaced, “I know you’re new here, Sheriff. That it’s been a good first few months for you, but if you think that, then you’re much greener than you look. Now get the fuck out of my bar before I have my bouncer throw you out.”

Christian left and the door thunked softly behind him. Danny was left staring into the glowering eyes of a lion. 

“I should fire you.”

“Please don’t.” Danny didn’t want to beg to keep this lousy job but everyone had a role to play here—and this was his. 

“What the hell happened?”

“Helmut—” He tried.

“Be very careful how you finish that sentence, Ricciardo.” 

Danny took a deep breath. “Helmut—”

Jos slammed his hands down on the bartop. “Everyone out! Bar’s closed! Pay your tab and get out!” 

As the regulars grumbled and shuffled out, Danny couldn’t help feeling like whatever was about to happen next should have a witness. 

 

—

 

Max found Oscar upstairs in his room. 

He knocked softly and stuck his head in. Oscar’s hair was still wet from the shower and he had thrown sweatpants on before sitting down to do homework at his desk. 

“Did you eat dinner?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Who’s asking?”

Max came all the way into his room and shut the door behind him. There was a pile of clothes on one side of the bed but other than that it was clean. “Just me.”

Oscar sighed. “Yeah. Lando and I ate before we went to practice some kicks on the field. Did-uh- did he…”

“Yeah. He mentioned he found you with Lando. You okay?”

Oscar closed his eyes and then turned so he was facing his work again. “I ate. I’m fine. He yelled, but…that’s it. He didn’t…We’re in the middle of our season…so…ya know…”

“Yeah.” Max did know. Oscar was the kicker for the highschool football team. Too many people, too many questions, and only one answer for a player who didn’t really deal with contact. Plus, Max knew he was an easier target anyway. “That’s good. Is Lando okay?”

“Yeah. When Jos pulled up…well, after last time…I just told him if he saw the truck to start running and not look back.” Oscar chuckled. “He made it all the way across the field before Jos even turned off the engine.”

Max smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Good.”

“Yeah.”

Max backed up and opened the door, “Make sure you get some sleep. We’re leaving at 7:00.”

Oscar saluted before turning back to his homework. Max shut the door softly and then padded quietly down the hall to his own room. He already finished most of his own homework tonight and anything else he could probably finish in the morning since he had a free period first, so he hopped in the shower and planned to just get ready for bed. 

As he was stepping out of the shower and drying off, the door to the apartment slammed shut. He grabbed sweatpants and hoped that Oscar had the foresight to shut his light off. Angry steps made their way toward his room and Max braced himself against the bookcase as the door swung open and Jos strode in. 

The backhand had enough momentum to put him on the ground. Pain erupted on the left side of his face and his hands slammed against the wooden floor to break his fall. 

Jos pulled him up off the ground a second later and shoved his back against the bookshelf. “Two-hundred dollars, Max Emilian! Two-hundred dollars!” 

He pulled him forward and slammed him back again. Max’s head lolled back and cracked against the wood. “You fuck around all afternoon, you waste your practice session, and you break a two-hundred dollar stick! You useless ingrate! Why is Ricciardo telling me lies about Helmut breaking the stick, hmm? Why is he covering for you? What did you do?”

Before Max even has a chance to respond, Jos throws him to the hardwood floor and stands over him. “Should I wake up Oscar and ask him? Hmm? Did you tell him how you broke that new stick? Or are you going to be honest with me? Instead of lying! Lying in front of that useless cop!” 

“It was an accident, I swear.” 

“Oh it was an accident! A trick shot accident?” 

The boot that meets his stomach is swift. His lungs contract, tears come to his eyes, and all the air in his chest flies out as the muscles contort under the sudden sharp pressure. “You! Lie!”

“I-ah-I promise. It was an accident. Oscar-Oscar doesn’t know anything.” Max gulps in air.

“Why should I believe you?” The boot digs into his side and he groans. 

“I swear! I swear it was an accident.”

Jos pulls him back up and stares at him for a second. One beat passes, then another. 

“You swear?”

“Yes, Papa.”

Jos’ eyes sharpen but he lets go of Max’s upper arms. “Tomorrow I want at least four games for money and you will see none of it. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“You will win me back double the money you owe me for a new stick and for the repairs on the truck from last month.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And if you don’t play exactly the way I want, the way I tell you to, I will grill Oscar about the broken stick. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“You better get your stories straight because if he says one thing differently from you…” There was no use reminding Jos that Oscar wasn’t even at the bar tonight. That Oscar wouldn’t know what happened because Jos found him kicking footballs at the high school field with Lando Norris. It wasn’t worth it. When Oscar was involved, Max would always cave.

“Yes, sir.” 

Jos nodded once, looked around the room for something to criticize, eyed the precarious pile of textbooks on the desk but must’ve lost interest because he swiftly left, slamming the door behind him.

Max slowly sunk to the ground and took a deep breath with his head between his knees. 

In…out…one.

In…out…two.

When he finally got his breathing back in order he stood and made his way to the mirror on the back of the door. His stomach seemed normal at first glance but when he pressed his fingers over the spot the boot connected with, his vision swam with stars and he doubled over in pain. That was definitely going to bruise but at least it would be under his shirt. 

He inspected his face and noted the slight scratch under his left eye. Only time would tell on that one. 

When he met his eyes in the mirror and noted the tired gaunt of his features and the hard set of his jaw, the I told you so he wanted to throw at Daniel died softly on his lips. 

$200 dollars. $200 dollars indeed.

Chapter 2: Dark Nights and Shady Dealings (The Moon)

Summary:

A fool's bargain for $15,000

Notes:

Am I going to do this weekly you ask?

Who's to say....

(apologies for the math)

 

It was going to be a busy night. Danny could feel it in his bones. It was a mild temperature but there was a buzz in the air. The people seemed happier, the drinks sweeter, and the dingy bar even looked homey. Everytime the door opened, Danny felt himself getting more and more excited for the night. He was practically vibrating with energy. 

The only thing that could bring him down was watching Jos stalk Max at the tables tonight. The boy was already playing by himself at his usual table while Jos prowled around the bar and chatted with different groups of locals. Besides the buzz Danny felt, there was dread creeping into his bones whenever he saw Jos nod his head in Max’s direction. Danny poured beer and wiped down the tables in between sneaking questioning glances at them. Max and Jos must have come to some kind of agreement because Jos rarely showed his face on Friday nights, but when Max came in from school to Danny getting ready to open, he didn’t look surprised to see Jos waiting for him with a new pool stick. The kid was barely given time to put his backpack upstairs before he was back down at a table practicing and correcting his form as criticism was leveled from across the room.

Then the bar opened at 4:00.

During the first couple hours, Daniel and the new bartender, Carlos, were running around bringing people drinks and making sure each table of locals had everything they wanted so no one started yelling before the real crowds got here––an impossible task on a busy night. Carlos was slowly getting the hang of the bartending scene but this was only his third weekend so there was still a lot of stuff he needed help with. Danny didn’t mind though, he liked having another set of hands and Carlos was at least a friendly face compared to Kimi’s glacial stare. Daniel was coming up on his third year anniversary of working in this barren town and Kimi was pretty much his only friend, so it was also nice to talk to someone else near his age. Max and Oscar didn’t count. 

Fridays usually picked up more than the other weekdays and a large crowd of college kids came down from the city to play pool and buy cheap beer. Max always counted on a dozen or so games Friday and Saturday night to keep him out of trouble during the rest of the week. He usually found someone eager to show off and they were either too stupid or too drunk to realize they were being duped. 

Jos only came in on Fridays to watch whatever games he set up earlier in the week. It was rare he came early and even more rare that he stayed longer than an hour. Other than Jos, Daniel or Helmut kept track of the money and the games Max was playing. He wasn’t allowed to play without a watchful set of eyes on him, just in case the Sheriff came in or he got the bright idea to cut out the middleman and keep the money for himself; but tonight, Jos decided he would set up all the games and kept a vigilant gaze over Max from his favorite corner of the bar. It made Max feel like a little kid again. Like he should be looking at the corner anytime he thought of a question or needed help with a shot. He felt tied to that corner with the single dark table reserved for Jos. Almost like he was destined to always return to it with a tether wrapped tightly around his throat and a bloody apology dripping from his lips.

When Jos said to jump, Max asked how high? 

When Jos said to play, Max asked how many turns he wanted and whether he should play stupid or show them the back half of the eight ball in the first ten minutes? When Jos watched like this, Max felt the tether tighten and wrap itself like a noose until his breathing became stilted and his airway tightened on its own accord. 

 

-

 

The first game of the night was against a townie who graduated a few years ago. Max knew his face from yearbook photos but not his name. Jos wanted a quick easy game to start the night and the man bet $600 on beating the gangly kid across from him. It was still early so it was mostly the regulars and locals in the bar. Danny was taking time to show Carlos how to make some of the common cocktails people ordered and wasn’t paying too much attention to the game in front of him. Max won in three turns without even a glance from the bartender and dodged an empty beer can for his troubles. 

The second game was against a guy who came in off a motorcycle looking for a Miller Lite and a pack of smokes. Danny kept some under the bar for people he trusted (or for people that shelled out more than asking price). The guy was decked head to toe in dark leather and a blonde woman with a tight smile and a hickey on her neck sat and watched as Max went shot for shot with him for 35 minutes. This game was slower than the first, but Max still kept the upperhand. When Max won, the guy just grumbled, rolled his eyes, and handed over the $800 in cash like it was nothing. The woman gave a mousy smile and said “You’ll get 'em next time, babe.” Then they found a corner to make out in and Max lost them among the throngs of customers coming through the door. 

In a two bar town, this bar was the best place to be on a Friday night (beating out the one across town used mostly for retirement parties); and even the people that complained about the smell of smoke that never seemed to lift from the wood, or the owner’s sharp eyes that followed them, or even the pool table in the front that leaned to the left and messed up everyone’s shots, came every weekend without fail. It was a pattern that felt comfortable to Max. No matter how many people spoke poorly about the place, there were always enough people for him to get lost in the crowd. And most Friday night customers couldn’t pick him out of a line-up which made him feel safer than some of the other nights when the bar was filled with Jos’ friends or locals with hard eyes and tight wallets. 

Around 10:00, Daniel turned the lights down and the music up and the night officially started at The Lucky Lion.

 

Max caught a bit of a reprieve when no one looked interested in playing a game and he managed to snag a RedBull from Daniel when Jos wasn’t looking, but the night carried on like it always did and soon he was back leaning over the table and ignoring the watchful eyes behind him.

Jos had smiled like a shark when the college boys rolled in at 10:30 and convinced a kid wearing leather boat shoes to bet three-grand on a game. His buddies cheered him on and offered to chip in if he wanted more. He shook his head and convinced them that three grand was enough to take from the unsavory locals and, if need be, he would borrow cash and pay them back another time. Jos pulled Max aside before the game and said “Make sure you play this one slow and savor it or you’re nothing better than the dirt under his stupid shoes.” 

His tone made Max shudder, but he did as he was told. He didn’t really care what this guy thought of him, but he pretended for Jos. It took him an hour of messing around before finally sinking the eight ball. The frat boy looked angry, but he just handed over the cash he borrowed from his buddies and stormed off to nurse a rum and coke on the other side of the bar. 

After the third game, Jos told Max to take a 30-minute break and meet him back at the table at 12:15. Max left his pool cue behind the bar with Danny and snuck outside for some fresh air. Kimi was checking IDs and keeping a steady line of people at the door but Max just walked past him without a word. 

He sat down at the picnic table around the side of the building and took a deep breath. The music from the bar was softer out here and if Max closed his eyes he could hear it in time with the crickets from the fields around them. When he opened his eyes and looked up, the stars were bright above him and he noted the different patterns they made without really knowing any of their names. Oscar would know them, but Max made sure he was tucked away at Lando’s for the weekend. 

He rolled his neck one way, then the other. His jaw cracked and he cracked each of his knuckles. He rolled his wrists and stretched his arms. Then he put his head down on his arms on the table and listened to the music, the crickets, and his breath. 

In…out…one.

In…out…two.

In…out…three.

Finally, he considered the money. 

So far he’d collected $4,400 from the three games. Helmut got 60% of that, which was $2,640, and that meant that Jos got to keep $1,760. The broken pool cue was $200 and Max’s truck repairs had been $3,000 so Max was halfway to breaking even.

“Fuck.” He whispered into the sleeve of his black T-shirt.

Jos said he wanted double the money from the truck and the pool cue. Not the actual amount Max owed. So instead of owing $3200 he actually owed $6400. Max still needed close to five-grand and that was without factoring in Helmut’s cut of every game Max won. 

Max took a deep breath and released it in a guttural groan against his arms. He’d never be able to make that much tonight. It was a fool’s bargain and one he’d agreed to willingly. He should’ve pushed back last night when Jos offered him this deal, but he had nothing to negotiate with. Jos held all the cards and money between bruised knuckles that would easily knock something loose in Max before ever offering a hand for help.

Without the money he wanted, Jos would turn his poison onto Oscar and Max wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. 

“Fuck…” He grumbled louder into his shoulder. 

On the drive to school that morning, Max mentioned the broken pool stick and gave a fake story about how he slipped and broke it trying to show Danny some trick shot but he didn’t tell Oscar why the story mattered or tell him about the deal he made with Jos for tonight. He didn’t need Oscar to worry about him, especially in the middle of his football season; but Oscar was smarter than he let on.

He laughed at Max’s story and his eyes lit up, but then something else seemed to click in his mind and he slowly grew quiet. 

“What are you gonna do when your dad finds out you broke one of his sticks?” Oscar had asked quietly in the five minutes left of their drive to school. 

Max bit the inside of his cheek and huffed out through his nose. “I’ll tell him the truth. That it was an accident.”

“But what if he—”

“—Osc, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.”

They left it there and went their separate ways once Max parked. They didn’t have any classes together this year and Oscar practiced everyday after school so Max didn’t usually see him until dinner or after dinner on the nights he spent at Lando’s. That day though, Oscar had a field trip, a game, and then he was spending the weekend with Lando’s family at their camp up at the lake. He was far away from the bar and wouldn’t be back until Sunday afternoon. Hopefully that gave Max plenty of time to convince Jos that the story was true. If Jos asked Helmut, he would pretend to not know anything, so all Max needed to do was tell Danny. 

Max heard a distinct whistle and stood up from his place at the picnic table. Apparently, his free time was up for the night. The tether pulled taunt against his neck and would lead his body back to Jos by faith or by force. He tried to pretend his steps to the executioner were by his own accord. 

When he rounded the corner he locked eyes with Kimi. The man raised one eyebrow and ignored the next customers in line as he waited for Max to approach. 

As Max slowly made it to the stairs, the usually silent man spoke. “Your father’s been looking for you. Something about a honeypot and an idiot.” He grunted. “You should run while you still can. Leave him to his own games.” With those words of wisdom, Kimi turned back to the next person in line and Max turned to go inside, ignoring advice he knew he should take, but before he could open the door, a voice spoke. 

“What? He doesn’t get IDed?”

Max looked over and saw a brunette boy close to his age standing there. The outdoor light above their heads reflected brightly in green eyes staring straight at Max. 

“Why were you so concerned with my cousin’s age if he has no one with him?” He pointed to Max.

Max noticed another man standing next to the boy also with brown hair but definitely older.

Kimi rolled his eyes and opened the door for all three of them. Then he pointed at the boy who spoke, “You cannot drink because you are underage and if we catch you drinking.” He pointed at the older guy, “You are banned.” The cousin nodded. The boy huffed but walked inside, followed by his cousin, and then finally Max. 

It was easy to find Jos once he got inside. Or more accurately, Jos found him. 

As Max walked over to Danny to ask for his pool cue back, he felt a hand grip his upper arm and pull him into the dark corner of the bar. Danny watched them move and tightened his grip on the soda hose in his hand. There was nothing he could do to help Max right now. With a busy Friday night and an attentive Jos, Max was stuck moving however the strings were pulled. Danny turned back to Carlos and handed him the sodas for the girls at table seven. He took a deep breath and then took a lap around the bar to let off steam and see if anyone needed anything.

Jos spun Max into a wall and released his arm. 

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you?”

“I was just outside. You told me to come back at 12:15.” Max looked around to see the clock but Jos grabbed his jaw before he could spot it. 

“Don’t take that tone with me. You have a game to play tonight for some serious money so don’t fuck it up.”

“How much?”

Jos’ eyes sharpened and his grip tightened. “Why would that matter? Don’t you remember our deal? You’re not seeing a penny tonight.”

“I know, I just thought—”

Jos turned him and pushed him towards the table. “Stop thinking. It doesn’t suit you.”

Max clenched his jaw but said nothing. 

Jos leaned in close and whispered, “I want you to lose.”

“What?” Max stared at the table in front of him, the green swirling like a kaleidoscope. 

“You heard me. Make it believable. I think we can get this fool to bet double or nothing. I think we can get fifteen-grand.”

“Holy shit.”

Jos smacked him over the back of the head, “Watch your mouth.”

“You really want me to lose?” Max turned to look at his father’s face. Jos had only asked for this one other time, three years ago now. Usually he liked it better when Max won every game—that way, Jos could talk about how dominant he was. How he never even let the competition have a chance. He was upset when someone came to the bar and was actually better than Max. It never ended well for either party. 

“Yes. Now go introduce yourself and Make. It. Believable. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Max slowly walked over to the guy. “Hey, I’m Max. I heard you wanted to play?”

The guy looked like he was close to 25 if not younger, and he smiled when he shook Max’s hand. “Yeah, I’m Lorenzo.” He had a light tilt to his words and Max tried to place his familiar accent, but couldn't. He looked Max up and down. “So you’re the boy that the bartender told me to stay away from? You don’t look like much…” His gaze sharpened. Fucking Danny…

Max just smiled tightly. “Looks can be deceiving.”

Lorenzo hummed. 

“You want to break?” Max offered. Something he never did. 

“Non. I want this to be fair. It’s $7,500 after all. Let’s flip a coin.”

Max turned and waved Danny over. He brought two drinks with him. “A G&T for the French Fry and a soda for the kid.” He set them on the hightop closest to the table and laughed at Lorenzo’s raised eyebrow. “Ya know, I told you, monsieur, that playing this kid was a mistake.” Daniel threw in a fake accent and everything for the guy. “But you waltzed over here anyway so don’t let me stop you. Just know…” He leaned in to whisper between them. “Once upon a time… he even beat me .” Danny said it like it was the most unbelievable thing in the world and laughed like everyone was in on the inside joke. Max winced as a memory slammed into his brain, but neither man didn’t seem to notice. 

Lorenzo laughed. “I think I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“Suit yourself, mate.” Danny flipped a coin into the air, fake accent forgotten. “Heads or Tails?”

“Tails.” Lorenzo said, eyeing the smooth hands holding the coin. 

Daniel smacked it down on the table and winked at the Frenchman. Max rolled his eyes. 

“Tails it is, lucky boy.” Daniel waggled his eyebrows and sauntered back to the bar. 

Max racked the balls and Lorenzo lined up to break. 

The cue ball slammed into the yellow one and they were off. 

 

-

 

Lorenzo was good. That much Max knew. 

Max was making it believable because he was on his toes for most of the game. He felt Jos’ eyes on him from the corner and knew he was counting mistakes—so was Max. Some of them were on purpose like Max would hit high right instead of high left, or he would aim the stick down and send the balls in the entirely wrong direction, but mostly he just played like he knew Lorenzo expected him to play – like a sixteen year old kid. He made sloppy pronounced mistakes, he huffed around, he even set his glass down on the green felt once before Danny loudly chastised him from the bar. 

And that was another thing. Danny knew Max was losing on purpose and he didn’t like it one bit. Max made eye contact with the bartender enough times during the 40 minute game to see the disappointed look in his eyes and feel the judgement radiating from every flick of his wrist on the draft levers. 

When Lorenzo was down to the eight ball and Max still had two balls on the table, he made the fatal error he knew his father was waiting for: he hit the eight ball in and made it look like an accident. 

“Fuck.” Max swore aloud and Lorenzo chuckled. 

“You cannot win them all.” Lorenzo shook Max’s hand and waved at Jos. 

Max turned apprehensively to where his father was walking over. Just because he was told to lose, didn’t mean his body wasn’t still ready for the consequences. 

Jos clapped him on the shoulder and he flinched away a step. “ Godverdomme . You can really play. My boy here didn’t stand a chance. Max, why don’t you grab another soda while the men talk business?” He asked it like a question but lightly pushed Max toward the bar without an answer. 

Max sat down at a barstool and Carlos put a water down in front of him. “Nice try, cabrón. Maybe next time.” A girl down the way waved him over and he went to get her drink order.

Daniel walked forward and crossed his arms, standing at his full height across the bar top. 

“I don’t need a lecture.” Max murmured just loud enough to be heard over the noise while tracing the grain of the wood with his fingertips. 

“Well if I don’t give you one, who will? You think Jos will volunteer?” Daniel’s words were sharp and when they landed they stung. “You know what you’re doing is wrong. And you know why he wants you to lie which makes it worse. When you sit and heel like a fucking dog, Max, it makes you complicit in his schemes. You have a brain – use it.”

He huffed, “To do what, Daniel? To win a game he told me to lose? To choose a–” Max dropped his voice to a whisper yell,  “–a beating over stealing money from some rich asshole tourist. I don’t feel bad for that guy. He thought he could get a lucky break stealing from a sixteen-year-old. He’s not innocent in this either.”

“I didn’t say he was innocent. I said you know better. Remember the last time you fucked around and lost, just to convince the guy to play again so you could win? Remember? Remember me? Remember the gamble that put me in this dump?”

Max stood up, “It’s not my fault you bet money you didn't have. And it’s not my fault that you were dumb enough to fall for the kid learning how to play pool act.”

“It’s not your fault, but you’re sure as hell just as guilty as him. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Max, but you’re the only one that can actually play.” Daniel nodded towards Jos.

“Fuck you, Daniel. That was the same year Oscar came to live with us and you know how Jos was then. I was doing everything I–” Max shook his head and took a deep breath, then another. “Listen, I’m sorry that you’re stuck here. And I’m sorry that you bet 500-grand on a game against a thirteen-year-old. And I’m sorry that you lost.” His stare sharpened. “But I’m not sorry that I didn’t get in trouble that week because Jos was out fucking celebrating. And I’m not sorry that I was protecting Oscar with everything at my disposal. And don’t fucking ask me to be. You wanna throw around your morals, Danny, throw them at someone else.”

Max turned on his heel and walked back over to Jos and Lorenzo where he was sure the second game would already be in the works. 

Danny couldn’t do anything except stare after him and swallow down everything else he was planning to say. 

 

—

 

Jos sealed the deal and Lorenzo shook his hand to double the pot. Fifteen-thousand dollars on one lousy game of pool. Max could kiss the ground at Lorenzo’s feet. If he won this, Max would walk away with $6,000 after Helmut took his 60% cut. That was more than enough to satisfy Jos. It wouldn’t add anything to Max’s gas fund, or put actual money in his hands, but it was enough to push Jos away for a couple days and give Max a break.

Lorenzo broke for the second game and slammed the yellow stripe into the side pocket. Max rolled his neck and locked in. He could win this. 

Lorenzo hit two more balls in before a bad shot on the fourteen lost him his turn. Max tuned everything out – it was just him at the table. The sounds in the bar became muted, the heavy eyes of Danny and Jos faded, and most importantly his breathing evened out. He set up and hit ball, after ball, after ball, after ball, after ball, after ball. He moved effortlessly around the table, the pool cue practically an extension of his arm. The angles flew out to him and where to hit the cue ball became as clear as a sniper’s red dot sight. This was his element. 

To some people it was just a shitty bar on the edge of town with shitty pool tables on a random Friday night; but to Max… 

To Max this was the world. All he needed was a pool cue and someone to play against and everything outside that door faded away. All his problems were gone, all this stress was silly, even Oscar –far, far away– could take care of himself. Max was finally at peace.

His shot on the six hit the edge of the pocket and sent the other balls flying, but he just smiled. He was riding too high to care about one simple mistake. This was his game and everyone knew it. Only the six and the eight to go and then he was home free.

Lorenzo looked a little shocked but moved to line up anyway without a word. He hit the fourteen in the right corner pocket. Then he lined up on the ten and a voice spoke to Max’s left.

“Hey, Lorenzo, can I borrow some money? Jules and I want to play a game.”

Max turned at the voice and recognized the boy from earlier at the door. Now standing in the dim lighting of the bar, he was easier to look at. His eyes weren’t as bright as they looked outside and his pleading face tilted towards Lorenzo in a sign of familiarity. 

“Can’t it wait, Charles? I’m busy here.” 

“Please. Jules said he would play with me but only if you paid for it.”

Lorenzo stood up and placed the butt of his pool cue on the ground. 

“Charles, if Jules wanted to play with you, he would play. He has his own money. He just sent you over here so I could say no. Now please, leave me be, I have money on this game and I would like to concentrate.”

A small gasp left the brunette's lips, “You are gambling? Merde ! Maman would not be happy.”

“Maman is not here. And you are not going to tell her or I will send you back to Monaco.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I want to watch.”

“Fine, just stay out of the way.” Lorenzo pointed to the high top with their two drinks. 

Max watched this whole exchange with intrigue but the longer it went on, the more the bar came back into focus. The lights were suddenly brighter, the music louder, and he turned and caught his dad’s eyes on accident. The cold steel in them could’ve supported the building.

Max turned back and watched Lorenzo nail the ten in the side pocket. He took a deep breath but felt something different on his skin. He looked up and found Charles staring at him. 

“You’re the boy from outside.” Charles said. “You’re too young to gamble. How old are you?” He leaned forward but Lorenzo snapped his fingers. 

“Don’t distract him, Charles. We are in the middle of a game.” Lorenzo lined up his next shot but Max couldn’t take his eyes off the boy at the table. They watched each other like two cats meeting for the first time—wary and suspicious but hauntingly interested.

Lorenzo’s shot sent four different balls flying and none went in. “Ah, putain !” 

Max broke the staring match first and spun his body around the table. 

The world became further away, but not as far away as last time. He could still feel Charles’ eyes on him as he sunk the six in the side pocket. Lorenzo went over to the table and took a sip of his drink, his hand shaking; but it was all over. 

Max swung around and lined up the eight. “Back left corner.” And he swore he heard music as the net clicked back with the ball safely inside. 

When he stood up, he locked eyes with Danny. The anger rushing out from the bar could’ve felled a small animal, but Max didn’t feel small on this side of the room. He felt like a lion. Like he had the whole world in the palm of his hands. Like he would finally be able to sleep tonight and actually rest. 

Jos came and clapped him on the shoulder again and he didn’t flinch. “That’s my boy.” He turned to Lorenzo. “Why don’t you step into my office and we can talk payment.” Jos pointed to a door on the other side of the room before striding away. Lorenzo sheepishly followed, his stick forgotten on the floor at the feet of the table.

“How old are you?” Charles asked him again. 

Max picked up Lorenzo’s pool cue and put it back on the wall rack before answering. “Old enough.”

Charles rolled his eyes again. “Just tell me. I will not report you.”

Max figured he was probably telling the truth. “Sixteen.”

Charles' eyes lit up, “Oh. I am also sixteen.”

They stared at each other again. 

“Are you in school?” Charles asked. 

“Yeah. I go to the public school up in Abilene.” Max said reracking the balls. 

“Oh. I’m starting there on Monday.”

Max perked up and looked back over. “Why?”

“What? Because I have to go to school. I’m sixteen.”

“No. Why here? Why not Dallas? Why not literally anywhere else?” If Max wasn’t from here there’s no way he would even come within 100 miles of it. There was nothing around but oil fields and dirt. 

Charles tilted his head and seemed to study Max as if he didn’t understand the question. “Because this is where my brother is. He is here for work and I came here to stay with him for the year. He said that this high school was fine and I didn’t need to go all the way to Dallas.”

Max scoffed. Fine was definitely the word for it. It was nothing special. Even the football was average. It could be your ticket out, but not very far.

“Do you play football?”

“Football?”

“Football? American football?”

“Oh. No. I play um what do you say… soccer.”

“Huh. I don’t think we have that.” Max finished reracking and was just standing and leaning against the table when he felt someone behind him. He turned expecting to find Danny and instead there was a man with familiar brown eyes. 

“Jules, there you are.” Charles said. 

Jules laughed, “Charles, I didn’t go anywhere. I sent you over to find Lorenzo and you never came back, but I see you’ve found our friend from earlier. Hi. I’m Jules.” He stuck out his hand and Max warily grasped it. 

“Max.” 

“Nice to meet you, Max. I’m glad Charles is already making friends.” Max and Charles both tightened their lips at the word. 

“I wouldn’t say friends, Jules. He’s the guy who just beat Lorenzo at billard américain .”

“Ah, yes. The pool shark the bartender told me about.” Max rolled his eyes. Fucking Danny.

“He said to stay far away from you and your father.” 

Max clicked his teeth together and took a step away from the pair. “Well let me make it easy for you and find somewhere else to play.” He went to walk away but Jules grabbed his arm. 

“Non, non. I didn’t mean it like that, my apologies. I was just kidding. You seem a little young to be a pool shark though, no?” Jules looked him up and down and Max shrunk a little against his gaze. 

“I just get a lot of practice, that’s all. I’m no shark.” Max smiled tightly and then turned back to Charles. “I guess I’ll see you in school on Monday.”

“Yes, yes. Hopefully we will have some classes in common.” 

“Hmm” Max hummed, “yeah.” He gave a final wave and then let his feet carry him away. When he looked up and immediately saw Danny’s glower, he spun away from the bar and strided in the opposite direction. 

He had done it. He won all the money he needed for Jos to be satisfied so he should feel relieved. Instead he just felt empty. Danny was pissed, Oscar wasn’t here, and Jos would celebrate without him. There was nothing to feel. All the other emotions were claimed. 

He walked slowly to the door of the office and gathered his courage before knocking softly and sticking his head in. Jos and Lorenzo were discussing a payment plan or a check or something, but stopped when they saw him. 

“Max, we’re busy.” Jos looked back at his computer.
“Dad, can I go upstairs? I have homework and stuff to do.” Max hoped that was enough. He wanted to be done.

Jos waved his hand and looked back down at his papers, “Sure, sure. See you tomorrow.” With that dismissal Max placed his pool cue on the rack on the wall and stumbled away from the office and through the crowds of people.

He waited until Danny was distracted with a customer before grabbing the key from behind the bar and letting himself upstairs. 

He texted Oscar “goodnight” and got a sleepy emoji back.

He survived Jos’ bargain, Oscar was safe at Lando’s, and Danny would probably apologize tomorrow. All he wanted now was to get some unimpeded sleep.  

Notes:

He's just tyty like the rest of us :)

Chapter 3: The Boy and the Brother (The Eight of Swords)

Summary:

Love that this chapter gets to come out right after an Oscar win 10/10
also sorry we're a day late 5/10
but lowkey was a busy bee this week and had lot's of things going on 8.5/10
enjoy :)

Oscar woke up with the sun in his face and for a second didn’t know where he was. This wasn’t his south facing window or his dark grey sheets or his drab but tidy bedroom. This was sunny and bright and even a little homey. Was he still dreaming? 

But then a body moved next to him and he remembered. Not dreaming. Just spending a couple days at Lando’s lakehouse. 

Lando’s head popped up and he saw Oscar awake. “Dude, it’s like 6 AM go back to sleep.” Lando rolled over and covered his head with the comforter, groaning softly into the sheets. Oscar sighed. The sun was in his face and there was no way he was going back to sleep with how bright the room was, so he got up, threw a shirt on, and went to find some coffee. 

He heard Lando’s dad before he saw him and paused in the hallway outside the kitchen. 

Mr. Vettel always puzzled Oscar. No matter what Lando ever did or said, he never got mad, never raised his voice, never had a mean word to say. He was so… kind. It didn’t necessarily unsettle Oscar – he knew people around him were generally kind people – but at the same time, it didn’t make Oscar want to spend alone time with him either. It was like waiting for a clock to chime or for the buzzer to sound at the end of a game—some things were just inevitable.

Oscar turned to go back upstairs and heard a creak in the hardwood floor beneath his feet. Shit .

“Oscar, is that you?” Mr. Vettel called from the kitchen.

Busted. 

He walked through the door and gave a small smile, “Morning. I was just looking for some coffee.” He stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Ah.” Sebastian smiled. “I just made some in the French Press. Care to join me? I was going to go outside and read a bit on the deck.”

“Ah, that’s okay. I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense. Come join me. You can even go swimming while we’re down there waiting for the gremlin to wake up.” He chuckled at his own joke and turned to pour a second cup.

Oscar laughed and eventually nodded. He could probably last a couple hours with Lando’s dad. It would be fine, especially if they both had their books and they sat on opposite sides of the dock. 

He went back upstairs to grab his blue swim trunks and one of his books for school and then slowly meandered down to the dock where Sebastian was already lounging on an Adirondack chair, coffee in hand. 

Oscar sat down from him across the dock where the other cup of coffee was patiently waiting and started to read. Oscar knew that Lando wouldn’t be awake for a couple more hours, so it would just be him and Mr. Vettel and the sound of pages turning. Their English class was focusing on dystopian novels this semester so they were reading Brave New World . Lando and Oscar were sharing the same book since the budget from last school year didn’t get passed so there wasn’t enough money for all the students to get their own copies. Lando barely opened it but Oscar meticulously took notes in the margins and tried to catch the other boy up in their study hall before third-period English.

The wind coming off the lake fluttered the pages of the book and the morning sun in the sky made Oscar debate going inside to get sunscreen, but it was a mild temperature and pretty normal for Texas in September. He’d probably be fine. 

He went to start the next chapter, but his thoughts wandered to Max.

Max was a little too excited to find out that Lando’s dad had offered to bring Oscar to their lake house this weekend. Usually when Oscar went away, Max got nervous. He didn’t like to be in the house too long by himself; but this time around, Max was too quick to say yes and even quicker to offer to tell Jos himself. Oscar knew something was up, but he didn’t think Max would tell him if he asked.

Oscar might be two years younger, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Max constantly put himself in the penumbra of Jos’ shadow so Oscar could get away with things. Like this weekend. Jos would never let Max go away for a weekend when he could be hustling and making money at the bar, but Jos didn’t care that Oscar was leaving—even if he was annoyed it was with Sebastian Vettle and his son.

Oscar didn’t quite understand the animosity between the two men but it was a sore subject that Jos threw around whenever he was angry at the younger kid.

Max was obviously putting himself in Jos’ way to protect Oscar even when Oscar didn’t want it. He tried on more than one occasion to tell Max to stop, but there was no getting through to the other boy. Something about how Jos pitted them against each other really seemed to scare Max and he always took the fall when Oscar fucked up. Oscar was worried that something was going to happen this weekend to make Max want to hide for a couple days either from him or from school. 

And that was another thing. Max liked to hide. It didn’t matter that Oscar rarely hung out in the bar during business hours, never got to see Max play pool anymore, and was barely even around for most of the fights Jos picked with Max. The older boy still pushed him as far away as possible whenever he got the chance. If Oscar didn’t know firsthand what happened in that house, he would think Max didn’t trust him or something.

Oscar shook his head and looked back down in his book. Maybe when he got home, he would ask Max and maybe Max would tell the truth, or maybe he wouldn’t have to ask and he would see it on the other boy’s face. Either way, Oscar had to try.

 

Oscar read his homework for about an hour, taking little notes and underlining whenever it seemed important. He and Mr. Vettel sat in comfortable silence, listening to the sound of the waves lapping up on the dock. Then, when the sun got too hot, and the wind fluttered the pages until he lost his place, Oscar decided to go for a swim. He set the book down, nodded as Mr. Vettel continued to read, and jumped in the lake. 

The immediate cold and silence of being under the waves brought a kind of peace to Oscar’s brain that hadn’t been there for a couple months. Everything in the fall of his sophomore year felt more important than it had in years past. The pressure of starting on the football team, his grades and test scores, the tension in their home. 

He came up for air briefly and then dove back down again to sit on the sand. He tried to open his eyes and see but the water was murky around him and all he could decipher was seaweed and rocks. He bobbed back up for air and then came back down again. His lungs hurt with the strain of the long pulls of air he was taking in and then releasing slowly and he felt an ache in his chest. 

The sun cast light through the water and Oscar saw himself clearly for a second. He looked up at the surface and thought about not going up for air again and whether it would hurt. His feet propelled him up and he broke the surface again. Mr Vettle was still reading. The sun was still shining. Oscar took another deep breath and sank below the surface. 

He loved coming out here with Lando and he was glad Mr. Vettle brought them at least twice a year, but even being at the lake house and staying under the water couldn’t stop his thoughts from swirling about everything going on around him. 

What was going on at home in the dingy bar and in the small apartment above it? What was going on that Max let him leave so easily? What had Oscar walked into the night before? How had Max actually broken that pool stick? What would Jos do once he found out?

Worst of all he couldn’t stop thinking about what was happening to Max while he was gone. 

 

-

 

~December 2010~

The landline rang three different times before Oscar finally picked it up. He wasn’t usually supposed to answer the phone, but no one was home. A man started talking but the voice was muffled and Oscar stopped hearing him as soon as the first few words reached his ears. It wasn’t possible. His world couldn’t be crashing down around him with just one phone call from a stranger. A drunk driver had swerved into the car his parents were driving and now they were just gone. Forever. 

 

For six months he bounced around different foster homes in Virginia. He didn’t talk much before the accident, so afterwards… it was just another reason to stay quiet. “A great listener” his social worker would tell foster parents, but the placements never lasted long. Most families wanted little kids, not almost teen boys who sat and stared at nothing and couldn’t hold a conversation. Finally after six homes in six months his social worker said she found a “family friend” in Texas willing to take him in. They packed up his stuff and put him on the next flight to Dallas. He was officially out of Virginia’s hands and into the frying pan of Texas. 

When he got off the plane a different social worker met him at the gate. 

“I’m Zak.” He told Oscar and shook his hand. “Welcome to Texas, kid.” 

Zak helped Oscar collect his things and brought him out to the car.

“They-ah-they tell me you don’t talk much.” Zak said after fifteen minutes of silence.

Oscar shook his head. “Huh. Fair enough. Well as long as you mind your manners while you’re here I’m sure everything will be fine. I don’t know what your folks taught you in Virginia, but the only thing people care about down here is that, if you do talk, you make sure to say Sir or Ma’am and be polite about it.”

Oscar nodded. His parents had taught him manners but people weren’t that formal where he was from. 

“Why don’t we practice that, kiddo.”

Oscar looked at him. 

Zak smiled. “If I tell you that it’s time to stop watching TV and time to do your homework you say…?”

Oscar nodded. 

Zak chuckled, “Man, they weren’t kidding about the not talking thing. Okay. How about this, you don’t have to say anything else, not a single other syllable or teensie-weensie piece of a word, but you do have to say “Yes, sir” or “No, sir” how about that?”

Oscar nodded. He liked when people were clear and Zak was making his expectations very clear.

Zak smiled. “Alright, Mr. Oscar, it’s time to stop watching TV so go do your homework.”

“Yes, sir.” Oscar whispered, but Zak heard loud and clear. 

“Perfect, Boyo! That’ll do nicely.” He smiled again. “And don’t worry, the accent will come with time. It’s practically baked into the air around here, so I’m sure it’ll find its way to your lips eventually.” 

There was a pause where the low crackle of country music on the radio filled the silence. 

Then, “If I asked you if you wanted to stop and get a burger…?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Atta boy! You catch on real quick.” 

 

-

 

After the burger and a good three hours of driving where Oscar mostly slept, Zak pulled off the highway and into a small town south of Abilene. 

“Alright, Boyo, I know you’ve been around the block once or twice but this place should be more permanent. Jos is a family friend of your Daddy’s. They went to college or something together back in the day and when he heard about the accident… well he reached right out to find you. So mind your manners and try to get along with his boy – I think he’s a few years older than you – and this should all work out. If everything looks good in six months then we can formalize the paperwork and get you adopted. How does that all sound?”

Oscar looked out the window and the desert around him. It was hot and the land was barren in some spots and yellowish green with oil fields in others. He didn’t know what to think of this new environment that was so different to the mountains and valleys of Virginia, but he knew what Zak wanted to hear.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re already doing great, kid.”

When they pulled up and parked outside a bar around noon, Oscar was definitely more than a little confused and it must have shown on his face. “Jos owns a billiards bar and his home is upstairs. So this will probably be your new digs.”

Oscar nodded. 

He got out of the car and grabbed his backpack. Zak went to the trunk and grabbed his two suitcases. Oscar looked around and noticed that at the end of the street there were a bunch of other buildings, but down here the bar looked lonely, surrounded by barren earth. A small patch of grass to the right side of the building was the only green in the area. A well worn picnic table sat beside it. 

Zak moseyed over to the front door and held it open as he waited for Oscar to make his way towards the building. Oscar looked up at the black sign by the road. It was probably lit up neon at night but right now it just looked as empty as the rest of the land around them. This was not exactly what he pictured when he thought of home, but he would have to be willing to try. He turned and followed Zak and they walked inside The Lucky Lion for the first time. 

The first thing Oscar noticed was a man with slicked back hair seated at a hightop table watching a blonde boy who leaned over a pool table seemingly mid-shot. They were the only people in the large space. The boy was taller than Oscar and looked to be a few years older than him. He stood up suddenly when he noticed the open door and backed away from the table as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be. 

Zak waved, “Hey, Mr. Verstappen. We spoke on the phone. I’m Zak Brown, the social worker assigned to Oscar’s case.” 

Jos whispered something to the boy who quickly moved back to the table and leaned down to line up another shot. Then Jos walked over and shook Zak’s hand smiling, “Hello. Hello. Please call me Jos.” He turned to where Oscar was standing half behind Zak and still in the doorway. “And you must be Oscar.” Oscar nodded. 

Zak smiled reprimandingly and said, “What’d we talk about, kiddo?”

Oscar looked sheepishly at the ground, “Yes, sir.”

Oscer heard a small crack and then a ball thudded on the wooden floor and rolled to Oscar’s feet. It was red. Oscar bent down to pick it up and saw a big 7 in the middle. 

When he looked up the men were staring at the boy by the table, but he was only staring at Oscar. A small smile fell on his face like it wasn’t sure it belonged there and Oscar smiled back. 

Jos made a small tsking noise. “Max, that wasn’t funny.” It was enough for the boy to look back down at the table and for the smile to wipe clean from his face. 

“Why don’t ya give that back to him, kiddo, and make yourself acquainted while the grownups talk.” Zak prodded him forward. 

Oscar walked over to the pool table and handed the red ball back to Max. 

“Hi.” Max said softly and put the ball back on the table on the black dot. 

“That's not where that goes.” Jos instructed from the doorway and then turned to focus on Zak. 

Max winced and moved the red ball to the other side of the table. 

“You’re Oscar, right?”

Oscar nodded. 

“Do you know how to play?”

Oscar shook his head. 

“It’s not too hard once you get the hang of it. Here let me show you.” Max leaned down with the pool stick. He held the bottom of it with his right hand and set the top of it between the fingers of his left hand and lined up the end of the stick at the center of the white ball. He pulled back and struck the ball with enough force to knock the orange striped ball cleanly into the side pocket. The white ball ricocheted off of two walls and landed next to the blue ball. 

“Your turn.”

Max handed him the stick and backed up from the table. Oscar set his stuff down and tried to mimic the way Max was holding it. His right hand felt fine but his left hand was awkward and he didn’t know where Max put his fingers. He stood back up and turned around to look at Max. 

Max smiled softly again. “Do you want help?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Max giggled. “You don’t need to call me that. Just him.” He nodded to Jos’ back where he was still turned and talking to Zak. “He cares about that kind of stuff like some of the other adults in town, but don’t worry we’re gonna be friends, so I’ll help you figure it out.”

Oscar nodded. “Okay.” It’d been a while since he made a friend. 

Max stepped forward and lifted the stick in Oscar’s grip. “Your right hand does all the work, but the left hand, the left hand is to steady the stick and also kind of to steady yourself. I like to hold it like this.” Max balanced the top of the stick on his middle finger and thumb and wrapped his index finger around the stick. “But he likes to hold it like this.” Max nodded over to Jos again and moved the stick until it was balanced over his first and second knuckles. “It’s just whatever feels comfortable.” He helped Oscar put his fingers in the right place on the top half of the stick and then pulled it back for him. “Feel that?”

Oscar nodded. 

“That’s what it should feel like. Now you give it a shot.” Max backed up again and Oscar lined up the stick with the center of the white ball. It was still new and felt awkward but he hit the ball and it hit the purple ball which is more than he thought would happen. And even though nothing went in, Max jumped forward and grabbed onto the table, “Nice! That’s a great first shot.”

A throat cleared and Max’s body rooted to the floor when a second ago Oscar could’ve sworn it was flying. “Max, finish your game. We will show Oscar to his room.”

“Yes, Papa.” Max took the stick from Oscar again without looking at him and leaned back over the table. It was almost robotic. Oscar took that as his cue to leave so he grabbed his stuff and walked slowly over to the two men. 

Zak smiled and Jos looked…well not happy, but kind of…satisfied. Yeah, satisfied, Oscar thought. 

“Alright, bud, let’s go look at the digs upstairs.” 

Jos led the way through the door behind the bar and up the rickety staircase. 

It was a nice apartment, Oscar thought. 

The door opened into the kitchen where there was a table and four chairs and some stools by the island. There were lots of windows and plenty of space for the three of them since it was a three bedroom, Jos explained on the short tour. He pointed out the living room and his bedroom and office, then Max’s room, and finally Oscar’s. It was painted a light blue and there was a bed, a desk, and a bookshelf. He also discovered that he and Max shared an adjoining bathroom between their rooms. It was definitely homier than the last foster home and, although there was nothing in his room and no real decorations throughout the house, Oscar felt like he could be happy here. 

“Ya like it, kid?” Zak asked, ruffling his hair.

“Yes, sir.” Oscar said with a smile and set his stuff down near the desk. 

“Good lad.” Jos nodded. “Well, Zak, is there anything else or should we let the boy get settled in?”

“I think that’ll be everything for now. I’ll be back in three months to check in and then six months to finalize everything. We can get the papers signed and the kid in front of a judge and we should be good to go. And your check will be arriving in the mail soon too. You’ll get about $400 every month for a year ‘cause it’s a kincare foster to adoption situation.”

Jos nodded. “Alright. I’ll see you out.” 

Zak waved from the doorway, “Goodluck, Mr. Oscar, and don’t forget to mind your manners.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Atta boy.” 

Jos and Zak left and Oscar turned back to his new room and began to unpack. 

 

-

 

When Zak came back three months later to check in, Oscar met him downstairs in the bar. 

Jos watched quietly from the other side of the room as Max played nine ball on his favorite corner table.

Zak was just as animated as the first day they met. “How ya been, Roger Dodger?”

“Pretty good.” Oscar replied. Three months living with a pseudo-brother helped his speech substantially. 

“Ya feeling good? How’s school?”

“It’s good. I started playing football. I’m the second string kicker for the middle school team.”

“Atta boy! I knew you’d fit in down here just fine. Loving it like a kid at the rodeo.” He paused and looked over at Jos and Max. 

“How’re Mr. V and his kid? They treatin’ you okay?”

Oscar looked down at his hands on the table. 

Jos had told him that morning that his answers to these questions were important and that there was money riding on it so he should behave. There was an underlying threat in the way he said it that Oscar hadn’t missed, but Max had knocked a glass off the table before Oscar could respond. 

The ensuing anger refocused on its usual target and Oscar slipped downstairs unscathed to hide in the bar before Zak got there. Max had joined him later, moving stiffly and attempting to mask discomfort while he practiced his usual Sunday morning set. 

“Yeah… he… yeah… it’s just…” Oscar trailed off and looked over at where Max was shooting. Max looked up briefly while leaning over the table and shook his head slightly before hitting the cue ball. The ball clacked when it struck the nine. Jos stood up and walked over to the table where Max was slowly backing away. Oscar counted three balls still on the table - even shit at pool, Oscar knew Max wasn’t supposed to hit the nine yet. He turned back to Zak so he didn’t have to see Jos smack Max on the back of the head. 

When his eyes met Zak’s, he knew the man understood.  

Zak sighed and a small frown graced his features. “We do things a little differently down here than they do up North. Sometimes parents take a stricter hand. It’s not a bad thing unless it’s a bad thing. Ya get me?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Every kid has a different definition of a bad thing, but there’s a threshold, see? And only certain things go over that threshold. And a little smack now and again is not gonna quite qualify. Are ya following me, bud?”

“Yes, sir.” Max warned Oscar about this. He said no one ever listened so it wasn’t worth talking about and would only bring trouble, but Oscar knew he had to try at least once—for both of their sakes. 

“But what if it’s more than a little smack?” He asked quietly. 

“Well then I would prob’ly take an interest.” Zak paused and looked back over to where Jos had sat back down and Max continued to play. “But also, kid, … you have a good thing going for you here. A friend of your Daddy’s wanted to take you in and give you a life like your parents wanted for you. Without Mr. V over there, you’d still be bouncing around in Virginia with no kin to your name. Do you really want to give that up by tattling on the folks who took you in?” Oscar stared at him without saying anything.

“Is it worth it? Is it worth possibly taking Max away from his Pops just so you can go back to Virginia and try again with a different foster home?” Oscar stared down at his hands. “These are the questions you have to ask yourself, bud, because if you think it’s worth it then I’ll file a report and take statements and look at evidence…” Zak paused and raised an eyebrow. “You do have evidence right, Mr. Oscar? Because without pictures or witness statements there’s not much of a case except your word against his…and well… and maybe Max’s. But then you’d have to convince Max to make a statement against his Daddy and also testify at a hearing and I just don’t know whether he would pick you against the only life he’s ever known. The only family he has left. I mean… Would he really pick you over a roof over his head, and food on his table, and his last remaining parent. Ya know?” Oscar’s eyes lost focus staring at the table. He could feel tears coming to his eyes. “I just don’t know if he would is all. And Mr. V kinda has a great thing going for him here. A good job, a good reputation, and two headstrong boys to take care of. I don’t know kid… your word might not be enough for the folks around here. ‘Specially because you’re not really from here ya see? So your view on the subject might just be a li’l biased.” 

Oscar didn’t reply. 

“I don’t mean to upset ya, kid. I just need to get your head on straight is all. Without knowing all of this, how could ya possibly make an informed decision or the like. Cause this is important, important stuff. So… now that you know all the different things to consider, now that you understand what could happen to you, to Max, to Mr. V, and now that I’ve made a big fuss tellin’ it all to ya, what would you like to tell me about the discipline style in Mr. V’s house?”

Oscar felt a tear slowly trickle down his cheek. Zak reached over and wiped it off, ignoring the way Oscar flinched at the contact. 

“There’s no need for that, bud. I’ll just write in my three month report that all seems well and you’re getting into sports at school and socializing normally with your new brother Max and that everything is going good in Mr. V’s house cause you’re minding your manners and behaving like a good eleven year old should. That sound good?”

Oscar looked up at him and the hard smile still sitting haphazardly on his face. He didn’t respond. 

“Now don’t forget what we talked about, Mr. Oscar. At our first meeting I told you people down here cared about young'uns minding their manners.” His smile widened as if he had told a joke. “Now does that all sound good for my report? Or should I ask Mr. V to come over here and have a chat with us?”

“No, sir.” Oscar’s lips felt the weight of the whispered phrase. It was heavy on his chest and wrapped tightly around his ribs. He could even feel it in the welts along his back and the bruise on his hip bone. Those two words sat just above his clavicle and cinched nicely around his neck. No matter what, Jos couldn’t get involved in this conversation. He would have to handle it himself. 

“That all sounds good.” It felt briefly like he signed over his soul, although he couldn’t quite figure out who owned it now. Maybe he would never know. 

“Atta, boy.” Zak stood up to leave. “It was great seeing you again, kid. I’ll be back in three more months to finalize the paperwork and get you in front of a judge. And Mr. Oscar?” Oscar looked up at him. “Try to stay out of trouble.” Zak winked, then waved at Jos and left the building.

 

–

 

When Zak came back for his six month final check in, Oscar was sporting a split lip on the right side of his face and Max had a fading and yellowish black eye. He still smiled at the sight of them – whether hopefully naive or willfully blind Oscar couldn’t tell. 

“Goodness, are the other boys at school getting rough with you too?” Zak sat down at the same red booth as last time and motioned for Oscar to take a seat across from him. 

Oscar looked quickly at Max whose eyes widened at the question.  

“No, sir.” Max rushed out. “We-ah-we got into a fight…with each other.” Max finished softly stepping back toward where his stick lay discarded on the nearest table. Not technically a lie Oscar thought, just more of a half truth.

Zak’s eyebrows rose and his smile faded, “Now, boys, that’s unacceptable. You can’t be putting your hands on each other like that. What did your father say, Max?”

Max swallowed hard, but before he could answer Jos came out of his office to see who was talking in the closed bar at midday on a Sunday. 

“Zak! Welcome! Can I get you anything to drink?” He started toward the bar. 

Zak waved him off as Oscar slowly sat down. “No, no, Jos, I’m doing fine. I was just chatting with the boys here about the little scrap they got into.”

Jos’ gaze hardened and he cut his eyes to Max as he changed direction, “Oh? And what were they telling you?” He brought a hand down hard on Max’s shoulder and squeezed. 

Oscar cut in as Max winced, “We were just telling him about the fight Max and I got into last week. Over the uh over the TV remote. And how you broke it up.” Still not technically a lie. Max and him had fought briefly over the TV remote and Max had held it above his head and mocked him for not hitting his growth spurt yet, and then during the argument neither of them heard Jos come home. Jos had broken up the fight by knocking some sense into both of them and sending them to their rooms without dinner. All of that was true. There was just a little fib about who hit who and why. 

Jos hummed and loosened his grip on Max’s shoulder, “Well this is what happens when you break the rules and act like toddlers – you get hurt. Serves you two right.” Oscar knew Jos was already rewriting it in his memory – it had been their fault all along after all. 

Zak looked over appreciatively at Oscar’s commentary. “Looks like you definitely found your words here in the Texas air, Mr. Oscar. Although, I’m still not detecting an accent. We’ll have to work on that.”

Oscar smiled briefly but it turned into more of a wince as his lip pulled at the still healing cut.

He decided three months ago that Zak wasn’t a safe person to talk to about what happened behind the closed doors of the bar. He was just like everyone else in town Max warned Oscar about – people Jos liked, or trusted, or who shared his views on how to raise kids. Those people were the dangerous sort. They would tell Jos whatever they saw Max and Oscar do that they didn’t agree with, especially if they had something to drink and he was bartending. 

Max started pointing them out everywhere after the last time Zak visited. Whether at the bar, or when the two boys were in town together, or even at school when one of the teachers mentioned something Max didn’t like. It was like Max had a sixth sense about who was trustworthy and who wasn’t. Some days Oscar felt lucky he fell into the first group. Other days Oscar knew it was because he knew too much to ever be untrustworthy.

“Well, why don’t we let Mr. Brown and Oscar discuss the final steps in private. I’d like to have a word with you upstairs, Max.”
“Dad, I’m not done with my game yet.” Max pointed to his table in the corner with three balls still remaining. His voice didn’t waver but he didn’t quite look all the way up at his dad’s face. 

Jos’ lips tightened but he nodded, “Fine. Finish your game. Then meet me upstairs in my office.” He turned to Zak. “Good to see you, Zak. I sent back all the paperwork so we should be all set on my end.”

Zak nodded, “Yes, Sir! We’re scheduled for a court date on Friday at 3:00 so as long as we can pull Mr. Oscar from his last class. If that all works then we can get him in court and have everything settled legally speaking.”

Jos looked satisfied, “Yes, that can be arranged.” 

Oscar stayed silent. It didn’t matter that he might not want this. It didn’t matter that he might want to get him and Max as far away from that building as possible. It was happening. And there was nothing he could do to stop it. Jos left and Max made his way over to the pool table.

Zak dove right in once everyone was out of earshot. “Well, boyo, as long as everything looks good on your end, you’ll see me on Friday and then probably never again. Once you’re adopted, Mr. V and Max will be your family. Do you have any questions or concerns you want to talk about before we go over the documents?”

Oscar wanted to scream. 

He already had a family. With loving parents who would have never done what Jos did. He didn’t want the paperwork to go through. He wanted to take his chances back at the foster homes in Virginia far, far away from here. He wanted to put as much distance between Texas and himself as he possibly could. He wanted to run and never look back. 

He almost said as much to Zak, damn the consequences, but then he heard the distinct sound of a cue ball striking another ball as it sliced across the green felt and he looked over to where Max was playing. 

The single light framed in a green lamp hanging above the table gave Oscar a spotlight to the fading myriad of purple and yellow hues dusting the right side of Max’s face. Last week, Max had been knocked down and immediately gotten back up to stand in front of Oscar and the pool of blood starting to form below him on the ground, the TV remote debacle forgotten entirely. 

What would Max do if Oscar left? Who would Max have if Oscar never looked back? Who would stand in front of Max if Jos went too far? 

 

Oscar knew what he needed to say and his whole body felt cold as he repeated the words that months early had damned him. 

“No, sir. That all sounds good.”

 

–

 

A body shot into the water a foot from where Oscar was holding his breath. He pushed up for air to see who joined him. A mop of curly hair appeared over the waves a second later and Lando’s smile, big and bright, made Oscar smile along too. “Idiot. You almost hit me.”

“I better’ve! I was aiming for you!” Oscar laughed and almost choked on a wave coming at his face which only made Lando laugh harder. 

“Boys, I’m gonna go make breakfast. Come join me in a bit. Try not to get hurt!” Mr Vettle called already halfway up the dock. His book left forgotten on the chair beside Oscar’s. 

“That means we’ve got at least twenty minutes. Come on! I’ll race you to the floating dock over there!” Lando took off swimming. 

Oscar laughed again, but before starting to swim he sent a quick prayer into the universe that Max would be okay. That this time was different and that when he got home, everyone would be in one piece. 

He tried to catch up to Lando, but starting second usually meant finishing second where the two boys were concerned. 

 

In a town three hours away, Max was waking up to an otherwise empty house after sleeping through the night for the first time in two weeks. 

Notes:

Hi, Thomas :)
fancy meeting you here.....

Chapter 4: Whisky and Wrath (King of Pentacles reversed)

Notes:

Heyyyyy friends!

This one is a little longer than the others b/c I'm about to start my exam season and need to take a tiny little break from updates so you won't get another chapter until May 10th (May 3rd if I'm dying from studying and need a break)

Sorry - didn't mean to just get going like right as my semester was coming to an end but don't worry I have ~PLANSSSSSS~ I'll be back

Thanks for all the comments and love!

- G.

Max stared at the clock above the door and felt the tick, tick, tick of the second hand fall in line with his breathing. 60 seconds went by. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then five minutes passed and still it was only 9:04 AM.

 

When Monday morning rolled around, Max drove to school alone. Usually Oscar kept him company and they chatted or listened to music in comfortable silence. Occasionally they sang along to whatever music they were into that week and jammed out, but most mornings they were tired and it was hard enough to get to school on time for the first bell at 7:50 to spare any extra energy on singing.

Lando and Oscar were supposedly being dropped off by Mr. Vettel on their way back from the lake house this morning, so Max drove alone. Jos made sure to remind him that morning to wait after school and drive Oscar back when his practice ended at 5:00. Jos didn’t want Oscar to spend any extra time away from home this week—almost like he was grounded for leaving. For a man who only wanted to see his kids when it was convenient to him, he kept a tight leash on their movements to and from the house. 

When Max originally asked Jos if Oscar could leave for the weekend, the man had scoffed, “Again? He sees that fucking boy everyday. Now he wants to go spend time with his fruity father…” Jos paused from polishing his black truck to look at Max. “Only if he agrees to clean the bar with Daniel after practice all week.” He turned back to the truck. “And he has to check IDs with Raikkonen next weekend after Friday night’s game.”

“Do you think Kimi needs help?” Max couldn’t stop himself sometimes from asking questions, even if he knew he was more likely to see stars than an answer. 

“If I want your opinion, Max, I’ll ask for it. Now go make dinner, we have a busy night tonight.”

The rest of his weekend was uneventful. He hid upstairs during Saturday’s business hours and managed to avoid both his dad and Danny. Max didn’t want to avoid Danny, but he didn’t want to deal with the man’s disappointed eyes, or worse, find out if he was still angry. Max couldn’t deal with two angry shadows in the bar. One was enough. Plus if he gave Danny enough time to cool off, then the older man would apologize and Max wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells until he felt like the coast was clear.

Because he stayed in his room and didn’t practice either day on the tables downstairs, Jos would be looking for him to play tonight. Luckily Monday night was the only night of the week that the bar was closed so it would only be Max in the otherwise empty room. He found Monday nights particularly peaceful since no one was around to watch so it was just him and the game. This kind of practice was his favorite but it happened less and less as he got older and the stakes seemed to get higher with every wager and night spent playing pool. 

But Monday night had another benefit. 

Every other week Jos went to a weekly poker night with his friends, so Max was betting he wouldn’t even be home. And if Jos wasn’t around Max might be able to convince Oscar to play a rack with him. He wasn’t really supposed to play pool with anyone other than customers and Jos never let Oscar or Danny near him when he was practicing under watchful eyes, but without Jos around, Oscar and him could have a little fun. Maybe even try some trick shots. Oscar wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t fighting for approval either, so he didn’t really have anything to lose by making dumb decisions. It made the game more fun and happened so rarely that it was more of a special thing between them than anything else. The two year age gap between them never stopped them from hanging out and doing stuff together like brothers–it was only when Jos was around that they pretended to be more distant. 

Max was looking forward to beating Oscar at a game of pool and then maybe going out and getting ice cream. But before he could get home, he had to get through today and it was moving like quicksand in the summer heat. Max was already trying to get the clock to tick faster at 9:15 during his second period.

His English class dragged on and the teacher’s voice grew distant as Max stared out the window at the yellowing field beyond. The only green in sight was the plastic coated turf football field, and even that was covered in dust from the surrounding plains. His mind was so distant from the classroom that he missed the door opening and didn’t hear the teacher’s change of tone until a familiar voice spoke. 

“Um hello. My name is Charles Leclerc. I’m visiting from Monaco and I will be here for the rest of the school year. I am um excited to get to know you all.” Max made eye contact from the back row. Charles smiled slightly when he saw a familiar face. 

“Thank you, Charles.” Mr. Hamilton said. “Why don’t you take a seat. It looks like there’s an empty one between George and… Max.” Mr. Hamilton looked to the ceiling. “Please behave boys. Try not to scare him away.”

Charles walked through the rows and sat down in a chair in the back of the classroom. He turned to his right. “Hi, Max. Look at this, we do have a class together after all.” 

Max nodded and caught George looking at them. 

“Ugh how do you already know Verstappen? Did he bully you on your first day?” George smirked at Max. 

Max rolled his eyes, “I’m not a bully, you just can’t take a joke, Russell.”
“You dyed all my vanilla cake batter pink in Home-Ec! That’s not a joke, that’s sabotage. I got a B because of you!” 

Max couldn’t help but laugh. 

Charles looked back and forth between the two of them. “Oh. I see there was a reason no one was sitting here.”

Both Max and George sat back in their seats as Mr. Hamilton cleared his throat and side eyed them from the front of the room before continuing his lecture. George quickly began taking notes, Charles listened attentively, and Max stared back out at the green of the football turf and wondered if Oscar made it to school on time and whether or not he’d agree to a game tonight. 

 

 –

 

Max and Charles were taking almost every class together. Their morning shuffled them from English to Chemistry before sending them to the same lunch block. And tomorrow they would share a first period study hall together too. 

Max lost Charles purposefully in the crowd and went to his usual table in the back corner of the room where he could people watch and do homework without anyone bothering him. He would ditch Charles for the afternoon when he had AP Calculus and AP Statistics and then see him again in Civics and PE. It was unnerving. The kid from the bar being in five out of Max’s seven blocks and then also in the same lunch as him meant a long day of being perceived. Charles’ eyes were heavy on Max’s skin all morning and he knew that the other boy was harboring a million questions behind silent lips. Max didn’t want to answer any of them. He didn’t want to talk about the bar while he was at school and he definitely didn’t want to talk about his illegal gambling. If Charles told people about Lorenzo losing fifteen grand then word could spread in a bad way about Max’s talent and the police could come knocking more than they already were. Jos would be a nightmare and Max’s complicit action could get Oscar knocked back to foster care—something Max would never let happen. 

Speak of the devil.

From Max’s vantage point he saw Oscar as soon as he walked into the cafeteria. The boy was moving through the crowd quickly and ignoring people trying to talk to him. He walked with a purpose as his gaze sliced around the rowdy room. When his eyes locked on Max's, something seemed to settle in the other boy's face. 

Max waved and Oscar walked over and slid into the seat next to him. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

Oscar looked over Max's face searching for something. “Are you okay?” 

Max nodded “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

Oscar looked searchingly at him again but said nothing. 

“What’s wrong, Oscar? What happened at Lando’s?”

Oscar still said nothing. He looked down at Max’s arms and then at his shirt like he was trying to look through it. Max knew if he could look through the black cotton, he would find a nasty healing bruise over his lower left rib cage, but Oscar shouldn’t know that. He was asleep when Jos threatened Max on Thursday night.

Just as Max was about to ask again if the weekend was fine, a boy sat down across from them. 

“Hi, hi, Max, do you mind if I sit with you for lunch? You are the only familiar face I have so far.” Charles paused and then looked directly at where the boys’ shoulders were touching. “Who is this?” 

Oscar slid to the left, putting a foot of space between him and Max and turned toward Charles. “Hey, I’m Oscar.” He looked skeptically between Max and Charles, “Have we met? I thought I knew all of Max’s friends but I’ve never seen you before.” 

Max shook his head, “Oscar this is Charles. He…” Shit, how was he supposed to explain this ? “Well I met him the other night at… the Lion and… and his brother and I… well while you were gone over the weekend… his brother and I played a game of pool.” As Max stuttered over his words, Oscar’s eyebrow rose higher and higher in a comical replica of Jos when he knew Max was hiding something.

“Yes, the pool shark.” Charles teased. “He lost a lot of money to you.” 

Oscar whipped his head to look at Charles and Max‘s eyes stayed locked on the table. He swallowed hard. Oscar wasn’t supposed to know all of the details of Max’s hustling at the bar. That was one of the rules that Jos instilled in him early on into Oscar living with them. It was both about plausible deniability and Oscar’s age and also for some reason, Jos wanted to shield him from what happened at the bar on the nights that Max made a lot of money (or worse, lost a lot of money).

“Charles, we don’t talk about that.” Max said quietly. “You can’t… It’s…. Is he…” Too many thoughts were swirling for Max to get a grip on any of them.

“Mad? No.” Charles cut in. “He is just a sore loser and he did not expect you to be so good since you are so young. Your papa must have taught you well.” 

Max nodded slowly, “Yeah, yeah he did.” 

Oscar cleared his throat, “Taught is a strong word…” He side eyed Max again, but just as Charles was about to ask what that meant, another boy bounced over and plopped down next to him and across from Oscar. 

“Ooooo we’re sitting with Maxie today! Hi, Max.” Lando sang. 

“Hey, Lando.” Max smiled softly. 

Lando looked at Charles, “Who are you?”

“Hi, I’m Charles. This is my first day here.”

“Charles with a Shhhh?” Lando looked at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“Well you can say Charles with a harder ch sound if you want, since that is the American version, but in French it is Charles.”

All three boys just looked at him. 

“You’re in America, mate.” Lando finally said. “And you’re in fucking middle of nowhere American to boot. No one, and I mean no one is going to say it the French way.” He pulled out a sandwich and started eating and talking with his mouth full. “What brings you to our glorious stretch of earth anyway, Frenchie?”

“He is not French, Lando.” Max said at the same time Charles said, “I am not French.” 

Lando looked skeptically at both of them. “What is he then?” He asked Max, but Charles answered.

“Monegasque. I am from Monaco which is a principality near France and Italy.”

“Huh, never heard of it.” Lando said as Oscar rolled his eyes. “Ya know… Texas used to be its own country before it joined the U.S. Maybe Monaco is just waiting to join France. Have you considered that?” Lando took another bite of his sandwich ignoring the incredulous looks he was being given.

“No, Lando. I don’t think he’s considered that.” Max pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

Charles looked like he wanted to comment but Oscar said, “Did you play soccer back home?”

Charles’ face lit up. “Yes, I did.” 

“Were you good?”

“I think so.”

“Well we could always use a backup kicker on the football team if you ever want to join.”

“Backup kicker?” 

“Yeah.” Lando cut in. “It’s the guy that kicks the ball through the field goal after a touchdown or after the end of a run. Oscar is the kicker for the team right now cause Stroll got hurt and tore his ACL or something.” 

“Only one person can kick the ball? I do not understand why you call it football…” Charles made a confused face that made Max smile. There was something about Charles that made Max want to smile whenever the other boy spoke. It just flew to his face so easily and surprised him enough that he forced it away. He looked down at his math homework instead of listening further. He didn’t have time to deal with whatever that was. Math was easier than trying to explain how someone Max barely knew could make him smile almost as easily as Oscar.

Lando and Charles kept talking about sports, but Max locked into his AP Calculus homework and got lost working through one of the problems due after lunch. 

He rarely ate lunch with other people and usually just worked through homework or sat at a picnic table outside. Sometimes Oscar and Lando would join him and sometimes Stroll and his friends would join him, but usually it was just him and his homework so he had three or four problems still left to do before class in thirty minutes.

Oscar didn’t join in on the conversation and spent a minute watching Max work before an idea formed in his head. It wasn’t his best idea and would probably get him in hot water with Max, but he figured it was the quickest way to an answer. 

In what would otherwise be a sign of brotherly affection, but here was being used to answer a very pointed question, Oscar quickly reached out and jabbed Max in his left side with three fingers. Max sucked in a sharp breath and the pen flew from his hand as he quickly covered the sensitive area Oscar had irritated. 

“What the fuck!” Max bit out. 

Lando laughed across from them—his conversation with Charles forgotten, “Damn, Max, with that reaction you’d think Oscar just punched you.”

Oscar’s stare sharpened at Max’s reaction, “Yeah, or kicked…”

Max’s body suddenly tilted away from Oscar and he shook his head. “I-I need to ask Mr. Rosberg a question before class. I’ll see you later.”

“Max–” Oscar started and reached his hand out to stop him, but Max was already standing up from the table and gathering his things.

“–I’m picking you up tonight after practice. Dad wants both of us home.”

“Oh.” Charles said looking between them, “You’re brothers?” 

“Yeah,” Oscar said at the same time Max said, “Kind of.”

They looked at each other for a breath before Max said, “See ya later.” And walked quickly out of the cafeteria.

Oscar knew Max was upset and he would need to apologize later, but at least he had an answer to what happened after Jos figured out Max broke the pool stick. It was probably a nasty bruise, but Oscar knew it could’ve been worse. 

It could always be worse when Jos was involved. 

 

—

 

Max swore the clocks were broken today. Everything was moving in slow motion. 

Also he got whacked in the face with a basketball during PE so he wasn’t in a good mood when the final bell finally rang. 

He hid in the library at one of the back tables where no one bothered him and finished most of his homework for Tuesday and Wednesday when his alarm finally went off at 5:00.

He packed up his stuff, nodded at the librarian, and met Oscar at his pickup in the parking lot.

Max backed the truck out of the parking space, put it in gear and started their thirty minute drive home. Oscar was chugging water in the seat next to him and staring down at his phone as Max took the turn out of the parking lot and onto the road. 

After ten minutes of comfortable silence with low country music playing on the radio, Max took a deep breath, “So, I’m probably going to play a couple sets tonight and was wondering if maybe you wanted to play a game with me? Nothing serious, just a simple game or two? I might even let you win one…” Max asked casually. 

Oscar rolled his eyes, “You don’t need to let me win. I’ve literally beat you before.”

“I had the flu.” 

“Yeah, and I beat you.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Every game counts, especially the games where I win.” 

Max chuckled. “Alright, alright. You won once. Now do you want to play?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Good, good we can play a couple and then you can clean around the bar and then we can do homework.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“I just like to have a plan.”

“Yeah, yeah. Did you miss me over the weekend?”

Max laughed, “That’s a silly question. Of course I missed you but now you’re back. How was practice?”

“It was chill. Coach had us run a bunch because he didn’t like Friday’s game but it was fine.”

“Is the head coach still Stroll’s dad?”

“Yeah. I think his name is Lawrence…”

“Yeah. Jos and him were friends back in the day.” Oscar nodded, taking in Max’s subtle warning.

“How did he find out you broke the pool cue?” Oscar didn’t mean to ask so suddenly but it just popped out.

Max’s hands gripped the wheel a little tighter and his smile faded. If Oscar wasn’t paying close attention he would’ve missed it, but Max swallowed slowly and took a deep breath.

“He just knew.” Max’s voice was tight.

“And?”

“And what? It was an accident.”

“Yeah but–”

“–drop it, Oscar.” Max pointedly wasn’t looking at him. 

Oscar sat there for a second in silence and listened to the rattle of the engine in the old truck. 

“Max, you can’t just shut me out. We’re in this together. You know that better than anyone else.” 

Max drove in silence for a minute. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Yeah, cause you only want to talk about it when it’s me. What did he do? I was gone from Friday til this morning, which is plenty of time for him, so what did he do that left you with bruised ribs?”

“I don’t have bruised ribs and I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Max…”

Max sighed, “It’s fine, Oscar. I just played some higher stakes games than I usually do.” 

“How much?”

“Oscar…”

“How much? Is this what Charles was talking about with his brother?”

“Yeah, but Charles needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.”

“Max…”

“Yeah… it… listen you need to be chill about this okay, cause it’s fine, everything’s fine. I promise.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, “I’m literally the calmest person you know.”

Max took another deep breath and then said very quickly “Itwasfifteenthousanddollars.”

“What the fuck?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. It happened. It’s over. It’s fine. Everything is fine.” Max somehow gripped the wheel tighter and took the next left sharply.

“Max, that’s a lot of money.”

“It was fine. I had everything under control.” 

“What if you lost? You don’t have fifteen thousand dollars? Does dad even have that kind of money?”

Max sucked in a breath. Dad . Not Jos. Not your dad. Just dad.

“No, Jos does not have that kind of money.”

“So what would he have done?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Oscar.”

Oscar scoffed, “This is bullshit, Max.”

“It’s fine. Everything was fine.”
“Yeah, this time! What about next time? What happens when you lose fifteen grand on one lousy game of pool?”

He kills me . Max thought, but swallowed bile before it could ever see the light of day. 

 

In…out…one.

In…out…two.

 

“Oscar, this is why I don’t tell you these things. You don’t need to worry. I don’t lose that often and I would never say yes to Jos if I really thought I couldn’t win.”

Oscar was quiet for a minute fiddling with the strings of his shorts. “Max, I’ve lived with you for almost four years. You’ve never told him no.”

“That’s not true.”

“Well you’ve never said it to him in front of me.”

“It’s just complicated to tell him no. It involves a lot more…bargaining.”

“Uh huh.” Oscar said like he didn’t believe him.

“Anyway, how was Lando’s?”

Oscar told Max all about his weekend with Lando and his dad. The stories cut the tension and soon the two boys were laughing at all the ways Lando fell water skiing but wouldn’t give up. 

When the bar came into view and there were cars in the parking lot, Max didn’t think much of it because Oscar and him were still laughing. When Oscar saw Danny’s car, he just figured that the bartender was pulling a Monday cleaning shift. Neither of them noticed Jos’ car tucked around the back. 

Oscar cracked another joke at Lando’s expense as he held the back door open for Max and they both laughed hard before coming into the dark hallway. When the smell of cigar smoke hit Max’s nostrils he tensed suddenly and stopped moving. Oscar walked into him and grunted as the door clicked shut behind them and stole the light with it. “Hey, why’d you stop?”

“Shhh… We need to leave.” Max whispered and started backing up. 

“I thought you said everything was fine?” Oscar whispered tensely.

“Shhh… not now.”

“Boys? Is that you back there?” Jos’ voice carried from deeper inside the main room. 

“Shit.” Max mumbled under his breath. “His poker night’s here. Don’t say anything, just get upstairs as fast as possible.” Max turned quickly and walked further into the building and out of the dark hallway. Oscar pressed his lips firmly together but didn’t have a retort that would’ve been fast enough to slice at Max’s moving form. He wasn’t a child anymore , he wanted to say. He’d been here long enough to know the rules – both those expressly laid out and those learned at Jos’ hand. Oscar knew what it meant for Jos to move his game here for the week, he just hadn’t realized it in the split second Max clocked it. He shook his head and followed in Max’s wake coming out of the dimly lit hall and into the bar. 

Jos and his friends were set up at the only circular table in the room. It was off to the side and away from the pool tables and the bar. There were eight of them, but Oscar didn’t spend time looking at who was seated around the table, he only looked towards Jos. When Jos saw it was both of them something lit up in his eyes, something Oscar didn’t like. 

“Boys! I was just talking about you.” He took a sip of his whisky and Oscar felt Max stiffen beside him. They both watched the glass warily. “I was just telling everyone here about how both my sons won this weekend.” He turned to Mr. Wolff sitting next to him. “I’m so glad your football coach finally got his head out of his ass and put Oscar on the field. The boy’s right foot was made for the sport! He’s the only decent kicker in this godforsaken town.” 

Oscar smiled awkwardly and nodded as the high school principal sized him up and hummed, “Yes, yes. It took him a minute to figure out the right lineup but it seems to be working.” 

It seemed to be working because Coach couldn’t play his son with a torn ACL, Oscar thought.

“He’s practicing everyday. Sometimes twice a day. He’ll work hard at practice and then spend time afterward perfecting his kick with Vettel’s boy.” Jos looks over at him appraisingly like someone would a prize racehorse. 

“Well as long as that foot takes us to state, we’re golden.” Mr Wolff said taking a drag of a cigarette and knocking ash to the floor.

Jos’ smile was all teeth, “He will. Don’t worry.” 

Oscar swallowed hard. Not going to state meant the season ending early and if he suddenly had a lot of free time to spend at home…

“I’m um gonna put my stuff upstairs.” He gestured with the duffle bags in his hands. 

Jos nodded and looked back down at the cards in his hands. “Who’s in?”

Some of the other men grumbled halfheartedly and threw more chips in. 

Oscar moved towards the bar but Max stayed frozen. Oscar turned back to look and noticed the staring match Max seemed to be having with one of the players. Oscar squinted in the dim lighting and realized it was Danny. Since when did Danny play poker with Jos?

Jos hummed at all the chips on the table and without looking up said. “Max, get everyone another drink, four PBRs and three whiskies. Then rack a set of balls. I want them to see you play tonight. Someone thinks you’re bluffing about your moves.” Jos raised his eyes at a man in the corner. 

“I never said I didn’t believe him, I just don’t see how you can win a hand in one turn. I’ll bet you 500 bucks right now that the kid couldn’t beat me in one turn.” Oscar thought the guy’s name was Nico.

Jos laughed. It was a deep, jovial sound but Max winced anyway. “Oh you could beat him, Hulk… Just not at pool.” The men around the table chuckled and Max stayed frozen staring at Danny. “I mean on Friday night he took fifteen grand from some foreigner who didn’t even know what hit him. The man was so stumped. It was like he’d never seen a kid play pool before. Max beat him in one hand easily.”

“That’s not quite how I remember it…” Danny cut in, finally looking away from Max and down at the cards in his hand.

Jos looked over at him. “Oh, Ricciardo, how would you know? You barely even leave the bar on busy nights! And you have better things to be doing than watching Max play.” 

Danny threw some chips into the pile. “It just seemed to me like the guy won the first game when Max was pretending he didn’t know how to play and then you let him play again and actually try.”

Toto’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, are you having your son hustle for you, Jos?”

Jos sat up in his seat. “You sound bitter, Ricciardo. Seems like someone’s thinking about how he lost to Max a couple years ago when the kid was barely tall enough for a regular sized pool stick.”

“Dad…” Max whispered. 

“Drinks, Max.” Jos didn’t even look at him.

Max turned stiffly towards the bar and noticed Oscar still standing in the room. He shook his head and gestured toward the door to the apartment. 

“I’m just saying, Jos. Doesn’t seem fair that you get the kid to lose the first game just to double the bet for the second.” Danny set his cards down. 

“Fair? Those men don’t want fair. They want to play against a kid. All I do is help them to believe they’re playing a kid. That’s what you thought, isn't it, Daniel ?”

There were some nods of agreement. 

Max grabbed four beers from the fridge and went to bring them over to the table.

“Hey, let’s get out of here.” Oscar whispered to him. 

“He told me to play. You heard him.” 

“Yeah but we could leave out the back once you drop the drinks off. We’ll take your truck and drive to Lando’s.”

“No. Not worth it.” Max took a step toward the table.

“Max, please.” Oscar eyed the table and Max knew exactly what he was going to say next. “He’s drinking whisky. It’s not smart to stay down here.”

“Oscar, go upstairs and stay there. Do your homework, make dinner, do your chores. Just don’t come back down. I’ll be fine. I’ll stay an arm’s distance away. I promise.”

Max pulled away from Oscar’s hand but then turned back, “And don’t go to Lando’s tonight or later this week. If he comes looking for you and you’re not here, there’ll be hell to pay.”

He didn’t wait to see Oscar’s reaction or wait for the younger boy to go upstairs. He knew Oscar would fold eventually. Everyone had a role to play and even though Jos flipped the script and brought his poker night here, Max knew Oscar would follow any rules or directions to avoid being caught anywhere near an explosion. Max knew because he was trying to do the same thing, but if he couldn’t avoid it, he could at least keep the blast zone contained down here to the bar and not let any of the shrapnel get upstairs where Oscar was usually safe. 

Max walked over to the table and set the beers down in front of Hulk, Zak, Kimi, and Danny. Hulk and Zak ignored him but Kimi raised an eyebrow and nodded toward the back door of the bar. Max shook his head and Kimi shrugged, cracking the beer open. They didn’t need words to express the sentiments they repeatedly volleyed back and forth. 

As he set the last beer down, Danny stood up and pointed across the table at Jos, “I’ll play the kid right now. If I win then you release me from my contract and if I lose you can add another 50 grand.”

“Danny–” Max said, shock coursing through him. Apparently the bartender needed more than the weekend to dampen his anger.

“–Shut up, Max!” Jos and Daniel both snapped. 

Max’s jaw clicked together, any sentiment toward Daniel forgotten at the sudden rise in emotion from both men. Jos stood up to match Daniel’s height, although the younger man had an inch on him. “You sure you want to play this game, Ricciardo? Cause I’m always willing to take your money, but at this rate it just doesn’t seem fair anymore.”

Danny set his jaw. “What’s another 50 grand to a contract that has me here for another two fucking years?” There was something dangerous in the way Daniel was talking that made Max take a step back. The two competing shadows in the room brought his heart rate up. His breath caught in his throat and hiccuped. Kimi watched him warily as the two other men threw insults but didn’t interject any verbal commentary. 

Jos’ eyes flashed with anger but he smiled, “Fair enough. You’ve got yourself a deal.” He held his hand out and Daniel shook it without a pause.

Jos turned to his son hiding in Daniel’s shadow on the other side of the table. 

“Max, come here.” He snapped his fingers. 

Max slowly walked around the table but stayed just over an arm’s length away. He had promised Oscar after all. It didn’t matter though, because Jos stepped forward and gripped his upper arm to tug him towards the pool table in the front of the bar. 

His words sliced into Max’s ear. 

“You are going to win this game without one single mistake. I don’t want you to pussyfoot around the table and try that annoying delay runaround you do whenever you want attention. Got it? This is not the time to mess around. I want you to win in one turn and not show Ricciardo a single inch of mercy. Understand? He’s such a fucking idiot for asking for this again. That boy never learns his lesson. Well hopefully this time it’ll stick. Do. You. Understand?”

Max nodded. Jos smacked him over the back of his head. 

“Answer.”

“Yes, sir.”

“God. Talking to you sometimes is like talking to a brick wall. I’ll make it very clear so even you could understand.” Jos leaned closer and Max stiffened at the smell of whisky on his breath. Every cell in his body screamed at him to run, but he kept his feet planted. Running right now would lead to something much worse than the panic attack bubbling under his skin. “If you lose this game, if you so much as think of throwing this game to get your good friend Daniel out of his contract, I will end you. Then I will bring you back to life and end you again and make Oscar watch. Got it?”

Max couldn’t even nod if he wanted to, his body was skewered so tightly to the ground under Jos’ gaze. “Yes, sir.” He whispered. 

“Good. Now go pour me another drink and warm up. You have a game to win.”

 

–

 

The lights in the bar felt so much brighter tonight than they normally did. 

The men left the circular table to crowd around the bar, poker forgotten. From this spot they could all watch as Max and Daniel played each other and if they wanted to they were close enough to reach out and touch the table. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. 

Max warmed up as Daniel put his stick together—something Max hadn’t seen in close to three years. The bartender’s hands glinted in the overhead light as he went through the steps of assembling the stick. Max got distracted watching the silver rings on Daniel’s right hand but then remembered he was supposed to be warming up.

Someone, probably Kimi, handed Max a water and he greedily drank from the glass. The lights were too bright, his chest hurt from the shallow breaths he was taking, and every few seconds the room seemed fuzzy. He knew there was a panic attack bubbling just below the surface—maybe a little over the surface—but he couldn’t do anything about that right now. There was no walking away from this game. Oscar had been right earlier, it took a lot of courage and stupidity to stand up to Jos and Max didn’t have it in him tonight. But he did have one last thing he could try. 

He whirled around and walked over to Daniel. 

“Danny!–”

“–Don’t bother, Max.” Danny didn’t even look at him, too busy with the chalk. 

“Danny, you need to walk away from this. He’s not kidding around tonight.”

Daniel set the chalk down and leaned over the table, “Neither am I, Max.” He hit the six cleanly in the side pocket.

“Daniel, please.” There was a whispered urgency in Max’s voice that made him feel small compared to the cool demeanor of the man next to him. 

“Max, go away. I’m trying to warm up.”

“Daniel–”

Daniel’s jaw ticked. “Go beg somewhere else, kid. I’m not gonna cave just because you whip out the puppy dog eyes. You’re gonna lose and I’m finally gonna be free of this dump.”

“No matter what happens here I’m the one that loses.” Max whispered.

Daniel finally looked at him, anger evident in the white knuckle grip around the pool cue. “You lose? You? God, Max. You still don’t get it. Everyone here loses because of you.” Daniel poked him in the chest with his free hand. “We all lose because you don’t have a fucking backbone.”

Max took a step back out of his reach. “That’s not fair.”

Daniel scoffed “Oh now you want to talk about fair? Go find your leash, Rover, before he decides to pull it tight and hang you with it.” He nodded over at the bar before looking back down at the table and hitting a stripe into the corner pocket. 

Max didn’t know what to say. He looked up but Jos was still talking to Hulk. He had another minute before the man realized Max wasn’t where he was supposed to be. 

“Danny, just say the word and we can both walk out of here right now. We’ll call it a draw. You know you’re the only one that can call this off. Plus it’s only two more years for me too, then I’ll be eighteen and we can leave together.”

Daniel’s eyes went hard. “You aren’t stuck here kid. You choose to be here. You could’ve walked by now or better yet told someone a long time ago about Jos, but everytime someone tries to help you, Every. Single. Time. You make a deal with the devil and pull in another fifteen grand instead of running. Suckers like me are just collateral damage along the way.” Daniel set his stick down and turned his full attention to Max. “I’m done letting Jos or you control my life. I was better than you three years ago and I’m still better than you now. If you want to call this off go right ahead. Your call.” Daniel stuck his chin out and waited a beat.

“Daniel…” Max took a step closer. 

“No? Wow! Didn’t think so, Max.” Daniel turned, took a sip of his beer, picked back up his stick, and lined up another ball. “Go crawl back to your Daddy and let him beat you senseless — see what happens to you and Oscar without me covering for you all the time.”

Max swallowed hard. Daniel was angry. It was simmering under the surface and bubbling out in the tense of his jaw, the grip of his hands, and the bite of cruel words. Max knew the other man was scared to lose—people said all kinds of awful things when they were scared to lose, but he still couldn’t let Daniel go down without a fight. Max knew that this game didn't matter. Jos wouldn’t be satisfied even if Max played perfectly — there was no pleasing him when he got into one of his moods — and Max didn’t want Danny to be caught in the shrapnel anymore than Oscar (even if the older man was running toward the explosion head first anyway).

Daniel set his pool stick back down on the table and turned his head toward Max but his eyes strayed past him. Max decided to try one more time. 

“Danny, please we really don’t have to do this. You’re better than some cheap bet and it won’t seem worth it in an hour when you lo— ” The hand that cracked against his face caught him completely off guard and caused him to stumble into the table and drop his stick. The sound of flesh hitting flesh caused the conversations at the bar to stop. When Max opened his eyes and the stars faded, there was a drop of blood next to his hands on the wooden siding of the table. He brought his fingers shakily to his face and felt a cut along his cheekbone. Jos rarely wore rings, but something about this night had felt off since the door shut behind Oscar. Max’s head came up and his eyes met a cold blue stare.

“Don’t be a bitch, Max. The boy made his bed, let him lie in it.”

Max nodded quickly before picking up his pool cue and moving back to the other side of the table. For a second there Max had thought… but Daniel wouldn’t hurt him. Right ?

When Max looked up Daniel was holding his pool stick with hands clasped together as if in prayer. What just happened?

Max shook his head and felt his cheek again. More blood greeted him when he pulled his hand away. He turned toward the bar but Kimi was already placing a napkin in his hands. The icy bouncer looked grave but still didn’t say anything. This was Jos’ bar after all and Max belonged to him. Whatever happened inside these four walls was nobody's business but Jos’.

“Let’s get this show on the road. I have a poker game to win.” Jos barked from the bar.

Daniel racked the balls. They flipped for the break and Daniel won the coin toss. When the cue ball struck the yellow, Max felt the crack reverberate through his rib cage. 

 

–

 

As the nine ball sailed into the corner pocket, Max wished he could melt into a puddle on the floor. There was no victory in this. The lights seemed to dim around him as Jos got closer and Max ducked his head to avoid his father’s gaze as the shark-like smile took over his face.

“You really need to learn when to fold, Ricciardo. Another year will be added to your contract which makes you my shitty bartender for three more years instead of two. Congratulations on your promotion and for once again proving that you can’t beat a kid at a game of pool. Fucking pathetic.”

“Fuck you, Jos.” Daniel held up his middle finger, grabbed his stick and case, and stormed out of the bar, slamming the door behind him. Jos chuckled and turned to his friends. “Well? Who’s still in for another round? I think we left chips on the table.”

Toto clapped Max on the back as he passed but Max was too busy staring at the door to even register the touch. He watched Kimi whisper something to Jos and then the bouncer followed Danny out the front door. 

Max was alone. Well… not alone, but he had no more allies in the suddenly dark room.

“Max, rerack the balls. That game against Ricciardo was shit.” Jos said but his voice was muffled. Max didn’t move. 

He just sentenced Danny to another year here. Why didn’t Danny listen? Why did he goad Jos? Why wasn’t Max strong enough to say no? 

A hand gripped Max’s jaw and pulled the bar back into focus. 

“Hey! When I tell you to do something, you do it.” The words bit at Max’s skin.

“Yes, sir.” Max said but his voice felt distant. 

Jos let go of him and stared for a minute before shaking his head and moving toward the pool table. He grabbed the balls and placed them one-by-one in the triangle. As each solid and stripe connected in the frame, Max watched Jos’ steady hands put each ball where it was supposed to go. Max squinted to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing but for the first time tonight he was struck with complete clarity. Jos wasn’t wearing any rings on his hands. They were bare. Max sucked in a deep breath and felt his eyes water. 

Jos finished racking, pointed to the table, barked “Play!” and moved back toward the poker game. 

Max looked after him and gently touched the cut on his face again. 

 

Why didn’t Danny listen?

 

What had Danny done?

 

Notes:

hehehehe not a 20 day cliffhanger noooooooooooo

oops :)

(Hi Becca! Look chapter 4!)

Chapter 5: Honey + Hubris (The Sun reversed)

Summary:

Daniel's POV

Notes:

Hey friends!
Exams are not over (one more week to go) but somehow I still found time for this doozy of a chapter. Since I left you hanging last week it's double the length of the others - you can deduce how my studying time is going accordingly :)

Please enjoy and I promise we'll get to the comfort part of hurt/comfort reeeeeaaaaaaallllll soon (just not yet)

Since this one is so long and I still have two exams idk if I'll be able to post next Saturday but I assure you it won't be too long before the next chapter

Love + kisses,
G.

Danny got to the bar at 2:30 like he usually did on weekdays and began prepping for his Wednesday shift. He called out sick the day before and spent the night nursing his wounded ego with a bottle of tequila. Jos left a nasty voicemail on his phone so he figured it was best to show his face back in this hellish building for his Wednesday night shift even if he was slightly hungover. He unlocked the front door and turned the lights on as he moved about the familiar space. The wooden floor creaked beneath his feet in odd spots as he sauntered across, occasionally pushing chairs in here and there and letting light into the room. He opened the windows to let some fresh air flow through and grabbed the broom behind the bar to sweep. He snagged a couple quarters and threw them in the dusty jukebox to play something by The Smiths. The only song on the list was “I Know It’s Over” and Daniel sighed. He hit play anyway and began swaying and sweeping the floor. 

Daniel waltzed around the floor sweeping and singing and letting himself get lost in the guitar that lulled around the Texas bar. By the time the song ended for the fourth time he was back behind the bar emptying the dishwasher and making sure all the fridges were stocked with beer from the back. He spun around the deserted space and let the music wash out the ringing in his ears and the anger at being trapped in this shitty bar on yet another afternoon. 

He could feel the old resentment and the new infected wound curdling under his skin as he looked around the room. The more time he spent in this building, the more it stewed in his veins. It felt raw and awful and too big to keep contained. If it could paint his skin it would look like a swollen, festering wound—red and purple and black. He felt the anger in the tips of his fingers, in the space between his eyes, in the beat of his heart – it flowed through his blood. There was so much of it that he didn’t know how to let it go. It was eating him alive. It was devouring him. It was a cannibal taking a sick bite of his heart, blood dripping down his chin. But in the same breath, it cradled him and held him together when the rest of him wanted to fall apart. 

His hatred felt more like home than anything in Texas. It was the first thing he woke up to in the morning, it was the last thing he thought about when he went to sleep. He had sold his soul to the devil and thinking about being free was his only reason for breathing some days. It was getting harder and harder to hide behind his smile and his mother’s inherited optimism when everything around him was so fucking bleak.

The sound of glass shattering took him out of his head and away from the images sitting just under his eyelids. He looked down and realized a pint glass dropped from his hand and had struck the only spot behind the bar where the concrete floor wasn’t covered by rubber mats. The sound let some of the anger flow from his fingertips and brought a stupid idea to the front of his brain. He looked around the empty bar—not a soul in sight. The Lucky Lion didn’t open till 4:00 PM on weekdays. He thought back to the parking lot. Only his car and the cracked pavement. 

He was all alone. 

He picked up a glass and dropped it gently. Glass splintered on the concrete. 

He picked up another and with a little more force threw it at the ground. Glass glittered along the black rubber mats and cast light back up at him. He picked up another and threw it aggressively at the ground. This time the shards rebounded toward his legs, attempting harm but only bouncing off his jeans. He smiled. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe he could cut parts of the anger out and let them drift away like ice flows. Maybe he would make Max laugh later and remember the joy of being sixteen and not having responsibilities. Maybe he could survive another three years of this.

He picked up the last glass within arms length and as the cool crystal released from his hand he heard the door to the apartment behind the bar open softly.

He whipped his head around at the noise expecting to see Max or even, god forbid, Jos; but instead he locked eyes with Oscar. 

The boy startled as the cup shattered and he cringed and swung the door back as glass exploded around the floor. 

“Oscar, don’t – don’t move.” Danny took a careful step and heard a familiar crunch under his boots. “Let me get the broom.”

“What happened down here?” Oscar said, looking at the mess and opening the door all the way. 

Danny didn’t respond and grabbed the dustpan and broom. He carefully moved the rubber mats to either side of the concrete square and shook more shards onto the floor. The plinking sound was the only melody in the room for a minute before the jukebox started up again for the sixth time. Daniel swept large shards into the dustpan and then laid the rubber mats back down so they completely covered the floor and any remaining glass underneath. 

Oscar closed the door behind him and stood watching for a minute. When Danny emptied the dustpan into the trash and then set the broom against the back wall, Oscar tried again, “So…?”

“I knocked a rack of glasses out of the dishwasher.”

Oscar hummed in response. Daniel thought he would drop it. 

Then, “It looked like you dropped that last one on purpose.”

Daniel closed his eyes and leaned against the bar. “What are you doing here, kid? Shouldn’t you still be at school? Or practice or something?” 

Oscar worked his jaw left then right, opened his mouth and closed it. His hand found the back of his neck and he rubbed it for a second, “Yeah, no. Yeah, I should. But… um Jos wasn’t around this morning when I got up so…”

“Jos? Max always drives you to school.” 

Oscar swayed and fidgeted with his hands. “Yeah… right….yeah… ‘Cept I haven’t really seen Max since Monday and Jos forgets that I can’t drive myself so he took off sometime this morning before I got up so I’m just…here.” Oscar paused and then seemed to think of something. “And Lando offered to have his dad pick me up like he sometimes does when Max can’t drive me but I didn’t want to make Jos mad by spending more time with Mr. Vettel this week. So… no school today or yesterday I guess… but it’s kind of okay because I got the homework from Lando and this way…like… if Max needs anything I’m here.” 

Daniel’s head snapped up to look at Oscar. “What?”

Oscar squatted down and looked at the smaller shards still visible through the holes in the rubber mats. He reached out a hand but didn’t touch anything. “He hasn’t responded to any of my texts so… but it’s probably fine. This-this happens sometimes when Jos is mad, ya know. It’s just been a couple months since the last time so… I don’t know. I shouldn’t even really be worried about it, right? Max will be fine. He always is. He’ll come out of his room when he’s ready. He’s probably just moping from losing on Monday.” Oscar touched the rubber mat gently but pulled his hand back sharply when he pricked it against a small shard still embedded in the black material. He stood back up to full height. 

“What?” Danny said again. 

Oscar finally looked up and met Danny’s eyes. He looked so young that Daniel was struck with the reminder that Oscar was only fifteen. That Max would be seventeen later this month. That these boys were still just children. That on Monday he had watched Jos hit Max and done nothing to stop it. That his anger for the last couple days had swirled and spiraled around the wrong person and how Jos was the antagonist in all of their stories. That Daniel was a fucking coward for not trying to protect them (no matter how he had tried and failed a dozen times already). That Max was hurt enough to not come out of his room for two days. That Max was hurt enough to not come out of his room for two days…

Daniel quickly took stock of the younger boy and looked at every inch of skin he could see. There wasn’t a bruise or cut that stood out in the lighting of the bar and Oscar didn’t look like he was favoring one side or the other, but Danny couldn’t know for sure.  

The other night Daniel had been close enough that when Jos struck Max, he had seen the ring catch on the boy’s cheek and felt rather than seen the cut etch its way onto the boy’s skin. It had almost seemed intentional the way Jos took the ring off a second after and stowed it away in his pocket. But Daniel had been too angry at both of them to think anything of it. He had turned away from the violence and taken a step back, grabbing his stick and sending a quick prayer to anyone who would listen that he had to get out of here and so did Max. 

But fate conceived other plans. Daniel lost badly. Max beat him in only three turns. It wasn’t in one turn like Jos promised the other men at the poker night, but it was still way too good for Daniel to keep up. 

Before the game, Daniel had let his temper get the better of him and took it out on Max. He had been riled up since he watched Max lie and cheat on Friday night and the hate festering inside him had bitten at the younger boy when Max tried to convince him to quit. Now five days after the initial game and two after he yelled at Max, he finally realized his mistake. He had ignited something in Jos that didn’t extinguish itself, and now Daniel knew that the simple game of pool and Daniel’s anger were the least of Max’s problems. 

“Why do you think I won, Oscar?”

Oscar looked uncomfortable but spoke anyway, “When they came up from the bar on Monday night, they woke me up. There was yelling and I heard Jos say that Max played like shit. I don’t know what time it was but they were both yelling and then a door slammed and then…”

“And then?” Daniel took a step towards him. 

Oscar’s eyes were clear when he looked up. “Since when do you play poker with Jos, Danny?”

Daniel took a step back immediately as if flames licked between them. “I–He–he asked me to join last week.” 

“And you said yes?”

Daniel swallowed hard. He was running low on cash these days. Jos forbade him from playing pool at the bar and there weren't a lot of other jobs in this town that didn’t interrupt his work schedule. And he couldn’t ask his parents for help—they would just tell him to come home and he didn’t have the heart to tell them why he’d really been out here for this long. His visits these past few years were short and only near holidays and were sprinkled with little lies about different jobs. He couldn’t go home with his tail between his legs and the sick truth on his lips. He couldn’t bear the disappointment in his mother’s eyes. 

But Oscar didn’t need to know all of that — he was just a kid, afterall. 

“What happened next, Oscar? After they came in yelling?” Daniel didn’t really believe that Max was yelling back at Jos since he’d never seen it, but maybe the kid had more fire in him after the game. 

Oscar tucked his chin and locked his hands behind his back. He whispered softly when he said, “Then Max screamed.” 

Daniel's brain felt like it was short circuiting. He couldn’t have heard Oscar say what he thought he said. But Oscar kept going, getting faster with each new detail, “Then Jos yelled about how he raised winners .” A grimace, “Then I-I put my earplugs in because that’s what Max tells me to do whenever Jos is yelling and I should be asleep.”

Daniel didn’t think he was breathing. He forgot how to make his lungs take in air.

“And I know that’s bad like I know I should’ve gone to check on him but I-I was scared and Max never wants me to do that so I pulled the comforter over my head and I must’ve fallen back asleep and when I woke up yesterday morning Jos was gone and Max wouldn’t come out of his room. Every time I knocked he told me to go away. So…so…” The boy petered off into silence.

Daniel’s skin was tingling. The room felt too hot. The fire between them was blazing. It felt like it came straight from the depths of hell. 

“And I warned him, ya know. I told him Jos was drinking whisky Monday night. I told him not to stay down here. I even told him we could sneak off to Landos, but he wouldn’t listen. He just had to play a game of pool against you and show off to those guys and to Jos. He just wouldn’t listen. And he told me to go upstairs and I’m not supposed to be down here when Max is playing pool anyway so—”

“—Oscar!” Daniel interrupted, suddenly holding the younger boy by the shoulders crossing the flames and standing safely on the other side. There were tears in his brown eyes. 

“Oscar, he’s in his room, right? He spoke to you from behind the door?”

“Y-yeah. He told me to go away. He locked the door.” 

Daniel thought for a minute. “Did he lock both doors?”

Oscar looked at him with confusion for a minute before recognition flitted across. “No, he only locked the door to the hallway.”

“Okay. Stay down here and don’t let anyone in.” Daniel looked at the clock, 3:30. “We still have a half-hour until opening. I’ll handle it.”

Oscar nodded quickly. “Okay.”

Daniel walked over to the door that led upstairs but turned back, “If Jos comes in, you need to call me immediately. Cause you’re not supposed to be down here and I’m not supposed to be upstairs, so you need to call me, promise?”

Oscar nodded, “Yeah. I promise.”

Daniel nodded and then left the bar in the hands of a fifteen-year-old kid. 

 

—

 

He made his way upstairs and through the apartment. He had only been here a handful of times but it looked the same as every other time. Nothing on the walls and nothing out of place—it felt sterile. If he didn’t know two teenage boys lived here, he would never guess it. There was nothing to show that any kind of kid lived here. No random shoes, no sports equipment, no drawings or pictures. Nothing. Just white walls, a spotless kitchen, and a clean living room. 

He walked down the hallway and opened Oscar’s door. He didn’t want to invade the kid’s privacy and he had a job to do and not a lot of time to do it so he tiptoed through to the bathroom without looking around too much. When he got to the adjoining door to Max’s room he paused and listened for a minute. Not a single sound emanated from behind the closed door. He knocked softly and still didn’t hear anything in response.

Daniel grabbed the cold metal handle and turned softly. It wasn’t locked. The door clicked when it opened and Daniel saw the prone body on the opposite side of the room stir at the sound, but the boy didn’t turn to look at the door. “Oscar, go away.” Max said softly, speaking into the comforter wrapped around him. 

Daniel stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind him. 

“Hey, Maxie. How ya doing?” He said gently.

Daniel didn’t think he’d ever seen Max move so fast. Within a blink, the soft form of blankets wrenched itself from the bed and shot over the other side toward the far wall. The comforter and top sheet were left crumpled behind and Daniel was left staring at Max’s empty bed. 

It was dark in the room with the shades drawn, but there was enough light to make out Max’s wild eyes and bare chest. Daniel wasn’t sure what was shadow and what was bruise but there were definitely sections infected by darkness. 

“Get out.” Max huffed. It looked like he was hyperventilating, but Daniel was too far away to make it out clearly. 

“Oscar’s worried about you.”

“Oscar’s fine. Get out.” Max’s voice was scratchy and unused.

“Max—”

“Get out, Daniel!” He practically snarled and then brought his hands up to his throat as if the yell physically hurt him. The sound pierced the otherwise quiet space. Max was definitely hyperventilating; he sucked in air like it wasn’t reaching his lungs. 

Daniel took a step forward and Max backed up further pressing himself against the wall. Daniel saw the younger boy wince and wondered briefly how much damage Jos could do before Max would actually tell someone. He could hear the quick breathing now. It was catching in his throat like a scratching record.

Daniel took another step and Max’s eyes widened even further, “Stop.” He tried again, but Daniel didn’t listen and instead took another step forward into the room. 

Max had nowhere to go. He was cornered even though Daniel didn't intend to go any further; he just needed to be close enough to the lightswitch to turn the overhead light on. The older man reached the nightstand and leaned slightly to the right where he knew there was a switch on the wall. 

Max set his jaw and seemed to settle his breathing but his voice still came out strained. “Daniel, don’t.”

Daniel flicked the switch on the wall and the dark room flooded with light. Max winced against the bright intrusion and tried to shrink further into the wall, but the damage was done. 

Daniel’s breathing hitched as he took in the sight of the boy in front of him. 

Black and blue and purple and red and blood. Blood . There was crusted blood on Max’s face under his nose and around his lips and then more over his right shoulder in a thick line, but Daniel couldn’t focus on that. Somehow there was something even more striking that drew Daniel’s eye. 

Purple bruises wrapped around Max’s neck in the shape of a handprint with cascading lines painted against pale flesh. It was grotesque that he could make out each individual finger and where it had been placed as it grasped the thin sensitive skin. 

Daniel sucked in a deep breath at the memory that flashed across his eyes. 

Not again…

 

~2012~

 

As the first verse of “Angel Eyes” played on the radio, Danny belted the song out the open windows to bare fields and an open sky.

“She likes whisky with her water / she starts dancin’ when the stars come out / she ain’t your typical preacher’s daughter / she’ll leave you dreamin’ yeah there ain’t no doubt…”

He’d been on a country kick for the better part of his week-long drive through the southern half of the U.S. and by day three he could sing almost all the songs on the radio. 

After finishing college in Tennessee in May, Danny started driving and hadn’t stopped. He rode all up and down the East Coast and was now slowly making his way to California via the southern states. By August he was rolling through Texas as slowly as possible and stopping at dive bars to shoot the shit and show country folks up at games of pool. 

His dad had taught him and his sister how to play in their basement on a beat up old red table. It was mostly just for fun and Michelle and him spent most of the time laughing at each other’s poor shots rather than playing. But before they moved to the U.S., he started to actually work at it and suddenly he was able to play against his dad with a real shot at winning. His dad competed occasionally at events around Perth when Danny was a kid but it was mostly just for fun. Still, he was damn good at pool and Daniel had to be on his toes to keep up. When they moved across the globe to Virginia, the pool table stayed in Australia but Danny found a bar down the street from his new house that let him and Michelle play on slow nights before 10 pm. So they continued their tradition of playing when there was nothing better than homework to do. 

When Danny went off to college he realized he could make money on the side if he played people who thought they were good but didn’t actually know the rules or the tricks. It was (once again) just for fun and also a little gas money here and there. 

After graduation while he road tripped and figured out what he wanted to do with his degree in mechanical engineering, he figured he could play pool to pay for any road expenses like food, gas, and the occasional hotel. So far it was working in his favor and he only got kicked out of one bar in New Orleans when things got a little too rowdy and a brawl broke out when someone found out he was faking his accent. He still had a faint Australian curl to his words but the time he spent in Virginia and Tennessee helped him pick up the Southern tilt to words. As he got further South on his trip he realized that his patchwork accent wouldn’t cut it. Texas had a much stronger accent than Tennessee, so he tried to really put on the charm and dig into his accent. He wanted to pass as a red-blooded American when he needed a good ole boy to pay up on the money he was owed—it was a safety thing, that’s all, but also it was fucking fun. 

When his drive sent him west of Dallas and towards a billiards bar just south of Abilene, he was sure the night would be just like any other—he’d win a couple games, buy a couple drinks, sleep it off in the back of his car and then get back on the road in the morning. Little did he know that fate had other plans for this particular August night. 

–

He parked under the neon sign for The Lucky Lion and, with a swagger only a man with his face and charm could pull off, he walked up to the front door wearing a pair of black cowboy boots and a big smile. 

The bouncer side eyed him with a look that could cut glass, but didn’t say a word as he let the freshly 23-year-old into the bar. 

Daniel loved the energy immediately. There were string lights looped through the wooden beams of the ceiling, a myriad of old bar stools, high top tables, red leather booths, and over 15 pool tables. It was the perfect place to spend a humid darkening summer night.

Daniel ordered a beer and picked a table to warm up at. He hadn’t even made it three practice shots before a townie asked to play him in a game. Danny was all over it. Within 30 minutes he was $100 bucks richer and was on his second beer. The bartender watched him set up to play another round but didn’t say anything. Another guy approached him for a game and he was back on the grind. $200 later, Daniel was back at the bar and ordering a third beer. The bartender placed the glass down in front of him and then leaned in, “Hey, kid, just a warning. You can’t hustle people in here without asking the owner. He’ll have your head.”

Daniel took a sip, “Oh yeah? Who’s the owner?”

The bartender grimaced, “You should just stop. Trust me. You don’t wanna meet him.”

“What? Is he a mobster or something? He got a monopoly on gambling?”

The guy looked at Danny like he was stupid, “The state’s got a monopoly on gambling, son. Jos… Jos’ got a deal with the devil and the sheriff to keep the money he makes in everyone else’s hands but the state.” 

Daniel nodded in an overexaggerated way. “Gotcha. So he doesn’t care who gambles as long as he gets to keep the winnings. I can work with that.” He did a little spin and looked at the crowds in the Lucky Lion. “So which one of these bastards is he?” He pointed towards a man in all leather in the back, “That guy?” he spun again and pointed at a man in a large black cowboy hat, “That guy?” He spun again and saw a guy making out with a woman in fishnets, “Ooo I bet it’s that guy.” He turned back to the bartender, “Am I right? Am I right? Come on, you can tell me.” Daniel laughed and took another sip of his beer. 

The bartender sighed and turned back to the drafts, “Don’t tell ‘im, I didn’t warn ya.”

Daniel went back to the table and shot a game of nine ball by himself. Once the nine had swiftly found itself in the pocket, he looked around and noticed a father and son duo at the corner table. The kid couldn’t have been more than twelve and Daniel shook his head. Who brings a kid to a bar? But just as he was thinking that, the boy knocked the five in effortlessly and nodded at his dad before moving around to the other side of the table. He knocked another ball in clean, bouncing it off the side before it sailed into the corner pocket. Now Daniel was intrigued. He recognized some of his own ability in the kid standing in front of him. He moved closer to the table and took a seat at the bar where he could watch without taking up space. The bartender saw him and placed a fourth beer down but Daniel didn’t touch it—he was too preoccupied with the duo in the corner. 

He watched as another man walked up to the pair and shook the dad’s hand. The boy turned into the cascading light and Daniel noticed his lip was split and slightly swollen on the right side. He noticed Daneil staring and they made eye contact but the kid quickly turned away and back to the game. The blue eyes cut through Daniel and judged him in one glance and he couldn’t quite tell whether he was deemed worthy or not. 

The first man clapped the kid on the shoulder and pulled him close. He whispered something that Daniel couldn’t hear from this far away but whatever it was made the boy take a quick step away from his father and start reracking the balls in the middle of his game. 

The guy who had walked up to shake the dad’s hand pulled out a pool cue and started setting up.  

Daniel turned to the bartender and arched an eyebrow, “So that’s the owner?” He cocked his head back toward the boy’s father. 

The bartender nodded and wiped down a pint glass. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay far away from him.” 

Daniel heard the familiar sound of balls breaking and turned to watch. A small chuckle escaped his lips, “He’s letting his kid play?” Another laugh. “Shit I thought you were warning me cause there was real money to be had, not because it was some joke just so the kid could think he was good.” He took a sip of his beer and ignored the tell-tale signs of the game going on behind him. 

The guy across from him sighed. “If you’re foolish enough to play the kid, there’s real money to be had.” He looked up at Daniel, “But seriously, son, I wouldn’t if I were you. You’re playing for chump change over here—$100 or $200 bucks—Jos usually requires a buy-in of at least $2000 or more to play the kid.”

Danny laughed again. This guy had to be joking. He turned back around and watched as the kid sank the eight ball. The little fucker won and Daniel missed it. 

Daniel wanted in. 

So in he got. 

—

Within the hour he swirled his way toward the owner of the bar and was watching another game between the kid and a man twice his age. Daniel stood with his back against the wall and watched as the kid sunk shot after shot. There were mistakes, but not nearly enough for the other man to win. When he lost, the guy slammed his beer down and stuck his finger in the owner’s face, but the man just laughed and whistled once. The bouncer from earlier stepped toward the guy and hauled him out before a fight could start. 

Daniel was impressed. This guy seemed to run a tight ship and, based on what the bartender said, seemed to be easily skirting laws to do it. He wanted to play the kid and see the owner’s face when his little shark lost. Then he would know whether it was all a facade. 

He walked up and stuck out his hand. “Howdy. I’m Daniel. I’d like to take a crack against your kid.”

The man shook Daniel’s hand, “Jos.” He looked Daniel up and down. “You sure? He’s quite the firecracker.” 

“I’m sure.”

The man nodded. “Alright, buy in is ten-grand. You got that, kid?” 

Daniel nodded back, “Yeah. I think I'll manage.” 

Jos smirked, “Good.” He turned to the kid. “Max, come here.” Max stood up quickly from where he was reracking and took a step towards the two men. “This is Daniel. He wants to try his hand. Give him your best. Got it?”

Max nodded, “Yes, sir.” He looked at Daniel again and Daniel swore those blue eyes could cut glass. He didn’t know if his heart weighed up against the feather, but Max looked down towards the floor again quickly as if the scales behind his eyes had seen enough. Up close the split lip looked painful, but Daniel didn’t stare for too long.

“You wanna break, kid?” Daniel asked. 

Max looked up at his dad for confirmation and Jos nodded before pulling him close by the arm and whispering in his ear. 

Daniel couldn’t hear what was said as he moved to the other side of the table, but whatever it was made the kid stiffen, close his eyes, and then nod slowly. 

When the kid lined up to break, he took one deep breath, then another, then finally pulled his hand back to strike the triangle of colors. 

–

It was a short game. Daniel won within fifteen minutes and spun back around the table with a grin on his face and an outstretched hand. Jos’ eyes looked sharply at him but he handed over $100 bills like he always carried that much cash. 

“Where ya from, kid?” Jos asked him. 

“Tennessee.” Daniel lied. Technically, it was where he was traveling from. 

Max walked over slowly, his face completely blank as if neutral was its own feeling. Daniel scrutinized Max’s face for any sign that he was upset but there was nothing to find. The boy’s eyes were locked somewhere over his dad’s shoulder so Daniel couldn’t even get a read through those. 

Jos hummed. “You got some talent there. How about we go again? Raise the stakes a little bit? Give my boy another chance to show you his talent?” Jos raised an eyebrow at Max who looked down at his shoes. 

Daniel nodded slowly, “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

“$25,000.”

Danny whistled, “Damn. You sure?” He looked over at the kid who was still looking at the ground. 

Jos smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Yeah. I’m sure. You good for it?”

Danny nodded. “Yeah, I’m good for it.” He had about 300K in his savings from college jobs, his parent’s help, and an inheritance he got from his late great-uncle. 

“Good. Let’s see it, Max.” Jos snapped his fingers and pointed at the table. “Daniel, why don’t you break.” Danny nodded and moved back around the table. The energy felt weird here but he couldn’t figure out why. He shook it off. He was just being paranoid, everything would be fine. He leaned over the table, pulled the cue back, and broke the racked balls. 

–

Max won in a close 30 minute game that had Daniel trying most of his trick shots against the kid. 

He felt frazzled when he returned the ten-grand and added another fifteen on top; but Jos wasn’t done with him yet. “Daniel, that was amateur hour. Come on, don’t leave on a low note, let’s double it and bet $50,000—that’ll be quite the game.”

Daniel looked at the man in front of him and then over to the kid reracking the balls. He could do this . He beat the kid in the first game so all he needed to do was concentrate and give it his all. Plus he couldn’t leave the bar on a loss—that would be bad for morale (and for his wallet).

Daniel smiled wide. “Sure, but only if you buy me a drink.”

–

Daniel won twice more at the $50,000 bet. He was over the fucking moon about it. Max definitely put up more of a fight now that he had a win under his belt but the kid was making sloppy mistakes and Daniel was taking advantage of it every chance he got. Daniel hadn’t seen him do this in the previous two games, but also it was definitely possible the kid was just getting tired. Max’s face remained set in that weird neutral position—almost as if it was painted on—but his jaw tightened every time he flubbed a shot and by the end of the second game he couldn’t keep his eyes off the corner of the bar his father was sitting in. Daniel could feel the tension radiating from there and didn’t quite know what to make of the owner or his son, but he also didn’t really care since he was up $100,000 on the night. Jos bought him two different drinks with top shelf whisky and Danny was loving every minute of it. He was riding high and letting everyone know. 

“Ooof, Maxie, is that the shot you’re going for? Come on…seems a little tricky doesn’t it?” The boy didn’t take up his teasing and just smiled softly whenever a comment was thrown his way—tugging gently at his swollen lip. 

“Max! Nooo! How could you do this to me??” When Max made a double shot even made the boy stifle a giggle. Daniel couldn’t stop his teasing no matter how sharp Jos’ eyes got as the fourth game of the night lasted well past 45 minutes.

The bartender, who Daniel learned was named David, brought him a new drink at the start of each game and avoided Jos both times. Somewhere in the middle of the second game Jos called the guy over, “Coulthard! Bring me a whisky on the rocks!” The bartender nodded and shuffled over a few minutes later. He left the drink at the table and spun around Max to whisper something in the boy’s direction that Daniel didn’t catch. Jos snarled from the corner in response, “David, let the kid play! Don’t distract him!” The bartender disappeared shortly after and didn’t return. 

When Daniel put the eight ball in the final pocket a second time, Max stiffened and stood up to his full height which was practically Daniel’s shoulder. 

Danny gave Jos his best smile and shook the kid’s hand. “Nice game, Maxie! I think that’s all for me tonight. It was a pleasure to meet you. Keep this up and you’ll be hustling people left and right.” He tousled the kid’s hair.

Daniel walked up to Jos with a raised eyebrow and once again was given a wad of $100s to count. This time the older man looked slightly perturbed but he didn’t say anything, just stared at his son for a breath. 

When Daniel was done counting to $100,000 he said “This is a great place you got here, Jos. I’ve been travelling for a bit and this is one of the best billiards bars I’ve seen. If you ever sell it let me know.” He laughed and tipped an imaginary hat at Jos. 

Jos looked over at him and his lips lifted slightly at the corners, “Thank you, Daniel, I’ve put a lot of time and effort into this so I’m glad it meets your standards.” He turned back to his son. “I’m glad at least one person can recognize it for the gift it is.” Max didn’t move or respond, just looked somewhere to the left of his dad. 

Daniel could practically taste the tension between them and he really didn’t want to engage anymore. “Alright, well thanks for the game. I’m gonna head out.” Neither of them spoke so Daniel nodded and walked over to the bar, “Hey, David, can I close out my tab.” 

The bartender looked over at him and then beyond him to Jos and Max. “How much did you lose?” 

Daniel felt the insult sting and let it roll off him, “Actually I won.” Coulthard took a double take and then worked his jaw, “Damn.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah, you can close out.” Daniel paid the tab for the beers and stood up to leave when he felt a presence next to his left shoulder. He turned and then looked down at the kid. 

“Hi.” Max said. 

“Hey, kid.” Daniel said. “What’s up?”

“He… um… he wants to talk to you about another game.” The boy talked quickly and when he finished his cheeks grew red as if he was embarrassed to be asking. As if he was asking for a favor instead of gambling.

Daniel’s eyebrows crinkled together in confusion but when he looked beyond the kid’s shoulder he saw Jos watching them and waving them back over to the corner of the bar. 

Daniel moseyed over slowly, wading into the older man’s sharp gaze. “Jos, look, I think I’m done for the night. It’s been fun, really, and your bar is great and all but I need to get on the road tomorrow.”

“Daniel, I have a proposition for you. I know you’ve only been here for a few hours but I am actually looking to sell this place and move on. This may sound a bit odd but I want you to play the kid tomorrow in a final game for all the marbles. If you win, I’ll give you enough money to buy the bar.”

Daniel’s eyebrows practically shot up to his hairline. “You’re gonna bet the bar? How much is that worth?”

Jos smiled in a knowing way, “About $500,000.”

Daniel was overwhelmed with the idea of winning a fucking building in a simple game of pool. What the fuck was this guy thinking? This bet was crazy. Daniel had already won three games tonight against the kid. Maybe Jos just wanted to get rid of the building and make it someone else’s problem. Maybe he just wanted to see if Daniel would take the bait. Maybe he was bluffing and hoping Daniel would fall for it. Maybe he was being hustled. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But Daniel couldn’t think straight – he was seven drinks in and riding high from winning 100 grand. Suddenly he was over the fucking moon on the idea of moving to Texas, running a billiards bar, and getting to play pool everyday like it was a fucking job. He wouldn’t have to spend time trying to find a job in mechanical engineering or figure out where he wanted to end up or even have to try that hard. He was already really good at pool. This would be easy for him. It was practically a steal. Plus he didn’t have to buy the bar. He could get the 500 grand and then leave town and be much richer for it. 

And if he lost… nah … he would just keep playing until he won. Easy. 

All of his thoughts whirred in the split second it took him to say, “$500,000 dollars! Hell yeah.” And reach his hand out to shake Jos’s. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He turned to Max. “You and me, Maxie. Tomorrow night. 10:00 PM sharp. It’s a date.” Daniel didn’t think his smile could get any wider but when he saw Max’s soft smile, he swore his lips rose even further. The kid nodded his head once. 

“Good. good. See you then, Daniel.” Jos replied. 

Daniel sauntered out like he already owned the place and missed the way Max’s smile faded as Jos turned a glare towards him. 

When the door to the bar closed behind the Australian, Jos grabbed his son’s arm and dragged him through the room and up the stairs into the apartment. Apologies quickly met disinterested ears and the sound of a belt whistling through the air replaced any meager excuses the boy could’ve made on his behalf. 

 

—

 

Daniel woke up Saturday to sunlight streaming through the windows of his car. He groaned, rolled over, and tried to stretch but kicked at the latch of his trunk instead. Right—sleeping in his makeshift bed in the backseat and trunk of his car. 

He grabbed his phone and searched for the nearest gym. Thirty minutes away. He rolled his eyes and pulled himself up and into the driver’s seat—time to get started on his day. 

After a workout, a shower, and a fresh set of clothes he found a coffee shop with wifi to look at his trip itinerary and also research owning a bar in Texas. Honestly he spent most of the day doing the latter. When 5:00 PM rolled around, he figured it was time to head back to The Lucky Lion and get his head back in the game for the round tonight. 

When he pulled into the parking lot, there were already plenty of cars and people waiting outside.

The bouncer eyed him, “You were here yesterday.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yeah, I sure was.” Daniel said in his usually chipper voice. 

“You played Max.” The bouncer said. 

“Yup.” Daniel was still holding out his ID, but the guy didn’t take it. 

“You shouldn’t have done that.” The bouncer’s face didn’t change and there was no judgement. He just said the sentence matter-of-factly like there was no alternative. 

“And why’s that?”

“You should not play him tonight. You should leave.” 

“I have a game scheduled for 10:00.”

“If you were smart you would get in your car and never look back.”

“Why’s that?” Daniel was getting annoyed. 

“Max is a kid. He shouldn’t be involved in all of this. You people come here and fuck with his life. It isn’t right.” There still wasn’t judgement in the man’s voice. He said all of it in the same monotone way.

“Don’t you think you should say all of this to his dad, maybe?”

The bouncer shook his head. “You are all the same. You don’t care about the people who deal with the consequences, you only care about the money.” The bouncer opened the door before Danny could respond, “I hope you lose.” He spit at Daniel’s feet. “I hope you learn the consequences.”

Daniel was speechless at this display from the guy who yesterday hadn’t said a single word to him. He couldn’t figure out what he was missing but it must be important for this man to get involved. He walked through the door anyway and it almost hit him in the back as the bouncer swung it closed. 

Daniel stood there for a moment stunned, but then shook his head to knock that conversation away—he wasn’t going to let some random guy ruin his night. 

He checked the clock. 7:30. He’d get a few drinks and be able to play a few rounds before Max and Jos showed up. Just the way Daniel liked it. He waved at David who nodded and poured him a beer as Daniel claimed a table in the front of the bar. 

When he lined up to hit the cue ball he felt electric. This was going to be an incredible night—he could tell. 

 

—

 

At 9:00 Daniel started a game of nineball. He was starting to feel slightly nervous at the anticipation but the alcohol in his system was numbing most of the feeling. David kept the drinks flowing and Daniel was at five beers by the time he finished his game at 9:30. He went over to sit at the bar and chat with the bartender. 

“So, how long have you worked here?” Daniel asked as he took a sip of drink number six. 

“A couple years.” The man wiped at the bar top. “But I’m leaving next week. My family is all in England so I’m going over there and leaving this hot and sunny dump.” He paused and then looked up at Daniel. “What about you, kid? Are you traveling anywhere specific or just moving through?”

Daniel nodded. “Ah, the Brits…” he paused while debating whether to tell the truth. “Most of my family is still in Australia but my parents and sister are here in the states, so right now I’m just moving through while I look for a job, and I’ll probably eventually end up on the East Coast somewhere closer to the fam.”

David nodded. “An Aussie then? Huh, I thought I heard you tell Jos you were from Tennessee?”

Daniel put his hand on his chest and smiled proudly, “In my heart I’m from Tennessee, but yeah I was born in Perth. You know how it is…”

David nodded and started to respond but the door behind the bar swung open slowly and Max tentatively stepped out with a hood up over his head.

David smiled in his direction, “Hey kid. Want something to drink?”

Max shook his head. 

David poured him a water anyway. “Here, bud, you might want it later.” 

Max reached for the cup and the black hood fell back revealing his face. David gasped and pulled his hand away, spilling the water. “Ah, shit. Sorry, sorry, Max.” He thrust the mostly empty cup into Max’s outstretched hand and reached for the rag on the table. 

Max tried to whip the hood back up quickly but not before Daniel got a clear view of the right side of his face. There was purple bruising around his neck and his lip somehow looked more swollen than it did yesterday when Daniel met him. 

The Aussie’s eyebrows crinkled and he stood up. “Max, what happened? Who did that to you?”

The boy didn’t say anything in response, he just walked away from the bar and over to his father’s table. The water was left forgotten on the counter beside Daniel. 

David stood completely still for a moment and then swore, throwing the rag in the sink. 

“That man is an ungrateful bastard the way he treats that boy. It’s not right. It’s just not right.” He placed both hands on the counter and hung his head low to stare at the floor. “He deserves better.”

The gears in Daniel’s mind were turning so slowly. Had Jos…? But…But why?

“Did—”

David shot up, “No, Daniel! Don’t ask any questions. Just play your game and get as far away from here as possible. Don’t get in between them, trust me. It’s not worth it and you can’t win. This isn’t Perth. This is a small town in Texas and here I promise you’ll lose.”

Daniel was speechless. He tried to get his mouth to move but it wouldn’t. He turned around and saw Jos sling an arm around Max’s shoulders and whisper in his ear. 

The clock above the bar struck 10:00. 

He didn’t have time to think. This was it. 

 

–

 

He didn’t stand a chance. From the first shot Max took, Daniel knew this game was about to look very different. The kid didn’t make a single sloppy mistake. He swirled around the table confidently and hit ball after ball in the pockets. Sure he’d miss one every once in a while but the game was a quick 30 minutes and Daniel knew he was screwed from the start. It didn’t help that Daniel was trying to look beneath the boy’s sweatshirt hood every chance he got, but Max kept it firmly up the entire game as if that would erase the nasty marks hiding underneath the black fabric. When Max sank the eight ball in the pocket and Danny still had four balls on the table, he knew he’d been played. 

Jos came over with a shark smile, “That’s my boy. Pay up, Ricciardo”

“I-I… no way. Let’s go again.”

Jos shook his head, “No. I don’t think so. Max is done for the night.” He held his hand out and Danny slowly put the $100,000 from the night before into it.

Jos laughed once—a hard humorless sound. “You’re looking a bit short on cash, son.”

“I…”

Jos laughed again in the same way. “Oh no.” He mocked. “Don’t tell me you don’t have it?” 

“I can give you $200,000 more but after that…” Danny got quiet. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of losing. It really hadn’t even crossed his mind. He turned to look at Max but the boy was busy reracking the balls and trying to seem like he wasn’t paying attention. 

“You would still owe me 200 grand. I mean, that was the bet wasn’t it?” Jos threw his hands in the air and got louder, “You agreed to 500K, Daniel, or did you forget?” 

Daniel saw Max take a step away from the table in his peripheral vision and he turned to the kid, “Max, come on. Let’s play one more?”

Max’s eyes widened like a deer in headlights and Max shook his head quickly. The hood fell back again and Daniel got a perfect view of the bruising pattern around Max’s throat. From the side it just looked like a mess of colors, but from head on, Daniel could tell it was a hand. Max snatched his hood and pulled it back up as he backed further away from the table.

Jos interrupted whatever moment they were having as the gears in Daniel’s head tried to formulate the amount of violence the man in front of him was capable of. “You don’t negotiate with him, Daniel. You only talk to me. And I’m telling you No. More. Games. That’s it.” Jos sounded deadly serious. His voice dropped from boisterous shouting to almost a whisper.

Daniel sputtered and tried to think of something but nothing came to mind. 

“But I can’t give you the money. I don’t have it.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to work for it.”

“What? No. Just let me play some other people here and I’ll win it for you.”

Jos laughed, “No. You’re not allowed to gamble in here without my permission and I’m saying no. End of discussion.”

Daniel’s heart was racing. His breathing was picking up. He was out of his element all of a sudden. “But how am I supposed to get you the money?”

 “Well I’m sure we can work something out. I always need a good bartender.” Jos grinned like a shark. 

“I— I want a rematch!” Daniel yelled. 

“No.” Jos said evenly. Daniel looked over at Max but the boy was shrinking further into the corner as if to hide from both of them without leaving the room. 

“This is fucking illegal.”

“It was illegal yesterday when you won, son. It doesn’t suddenly become legal just because you lost. Suck it up.” 

“You fucking—”

“—Eh eh eh, is that anyway to talk to your new boss?” Jos smirked. “I’d be careful if I were you, Daniel. I have plenty of people on my side in this town that would throw you in jail for less.” Jos nodded to the two uniformed officers sitting and drinking at the bar. “I own you, kid. Not much else to say.” He paused and let that sink in. “Your move.” 

“I–I…” Daniel. 

“You… what?” Jos crossed his arms. 

Daniel stuttered. His brain wouldn’t work. He couldn’t connect the spiraling thoughts to his mouth. He—what—but—and—but—Max—Max!

Daniel grabbed his hair and pulled, trying to let the pain orient him. “I–this-this isn’t fair! You can’t do this!”

“Actually, you’ll find that I can. And I did. You agreed to this. We shook on it and now…” Jos pulled out the word, “you owe me $500,000 and if you don’t have $500,000 then you owe me shifts at this bar until you can pay it off. That’s how life works, Daniel. Welcome to the real world. Sorry mommy and daddy never told you that.” 

Daniel was stunned. He couldn’t believe Jos wouldn’t let him play again. He couldn’t believe he had played himself into a corner. He couldn’t believe he was stuck. He wasn’t processing. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream.

“Ahhhhh!” Daniel swung his arm out and knocked the glass of beer off the pool table and onto the ground. It thunked loudly and rolled under the table—liquid spilling everywhere. Max shrunk more into the corner. 

“You fucking tricked me! He hustled me!” He pointed at Max. “This is fucking bullshit.” Daniel picked up the six and threw it against the wall. Max moved suddenly to hide under the table but Daniel didn’t notice—his skin was vibrating with frustration. 

Jos just kept smiling. “I’ve done nothing. If you got hustled it’s because you weren’t smart enough to think of the possibility you would lose .”

Daniel practically growled and he raised his hand but it never found its mark. Hands grabbed Daniel’s shoulders and pulled him back. “Easy now, easy. Everyone take a breath.” The cops from the bar were behind him. 

“He’s hustling people! He’s running an illegal gambling ring!”

“Just come down, son. Relax.” Daniel pulled at his arms but he couldn’t get them free from the two men behind him. 

“He fucking hit his kid! Look at him!”

“Son, if you don’t calm down we’re gonna have to bring you in for drunk and disorderly.”

“He’s a fucking cheater!” He pulled against them again. 

“That’s it!” Daniel felt cuffs slap down on his wrists.

“He’s a liar and a thief!”

They pulled him out of the bar and shoved him in the squad car. As the door slammed behind him, he looked out the window and locked eyes with the bouncer. The man looked grimly at Daniel and shook his head slowly before turning and walking back inside the bar. 

 

Daniel may have just found the consequences after all.

 

—

 

~ The Present ~

 

Max closed his eyes and leaned back slowly against the wall. He knew everything was on full display and there was nothing he could do about it. Daniel didn’t move any closer, but Max could feel his eyes rove over every inch of skin that wasn’t covered by sweatpants. Max knew it was bad. It felt bad. It was by far one of the worst displays Jos had done in a while. 

His throat hadn’t hurt like this since the last time he lost to Daniel in 2012. Max knew Jos definitely didn’t remember that, but it still felt intentional. 

On Monday, Jos told Max to beat Daniel so badly that the older man would remember why he was stuck there in the first place, and Max hadn’t performed. Sure, he won, but he hadn’t performed . So now Max was left with a painful reminder of what happened the last time he lost to Daniel and what would happen if he lost again. 

In 2012, Jos told Max to win and Max couldn’t. Daniel was too good. It only seemed fair that the punishment would be the same. 

Max tried to swallow but the saliva grated against his damaged muscles and blood vessels all the way down his throat. He winced and opened his eyes to look at Danny again.

The Australian was crying. There were fat tears falling down his cheeks as he stared at Max.

“Maxie…what did he do to you?” Daniel whispered.

Max didn’t respond. He really shouldn’t be talking.

“Is he gonna make you play like that?” Daniel bit out, anger lacing its way through the hurt.

Max still didn’t say anything, just moved his hand to cover his throat so Daniel didn’t have to look at it anymore.

“Is he gonna make you go down there around all of those people looking like that and play?” Daniel pointed to the bedroom door when he spit the words. The again was left unsaid but they both heard it anyway. 

“No.” Max finally said softly. “He told me I’m not allowed to go downstairs. But… Someone should drive Oscar to school tomorrow. I still can’t go.” He tried to swallow again and the scratch tasted like blood. “Too many questions.”

Daniel’s eyes widened and more tears fell. “Are you fucking kidding me? Max, this is not the time to be thinking about Oscar getting to his English class. Look at what he did to you!” Daniel was practically shaking with all the emotions coursing through him. “You need to get out of here. You need to see a doctor. You—”

They both heard the door to the apartment shut. Not loudly, but with enough force to alert anyone in the vicinity. Daniel turned to stare at the door as heavy set footsteps slowly approached the bedroom door. The boots could’ve belonged to anyone, but only so many people would come up those stairs. 

Two knocks on the bedroom door and then a voice, “Daniel, we need to open.” It was Kimi Raikkonen. 

Daniel released a breath and took a step toward the door, but Max stayed where he was. “I’ll be down in a sec, Kimi.” 

“Open the door, Daniel.”

Danny looked back at Max who remained against the far wall. “Kimi, we just need a sec.” 

“Bwoah. Daniel, you need to open the bar. I can take care of the kid.”

Danny watched as Max slowly nodded, keeping his hand on his neck as if trying to hide the patchwork bruising there more than anywhere else. 

Daniel walked slowly to the bedroom door to give Max enough time to change his mind, but the boy remained silent. He unlocked the door and Kimi stepped inside. 

“We have customers waiting outside, Daniel, and Oscar is down there looking like a lost puppy.”

“Yeah, I was just—” 

“—No, I will handle it.” The bouncer left no room for argument. Daniel nodded and turned back to look at Max but the boy was staring down at the floor in front of him. It was obvious to Daniel that the conversation was over and Max was done talking. He swallowed everything else he wanted to say and all of the apologies that came to his lips, before nodding again to no one and leaving the room. As he got to the end of the hallway he paused to listen. 

“Come on, Max. Let’s wash this blood off and see what needs antiseptic.” Kimi said.

“It’s… It’s bad.” Max’s voice was strained. 

“I can see that. You want to turn around so I can see what else we’re dealing with here.”

Silence. Daniel strained his ears to listen, but Max didn’t respond.

Kimi sighed. “Just get it over with, kid. Let me get you cleaned up so it doesn’t get infected.”

No response from Max but then Daniel heard Kimi click his tongue and spit, “ Bastard. ” 

“He—” Max started.

“—Don’t you dare make excuses for him . He’s a sorry excuse of a man.” Kimi’s tone left no room for argument. Daniel had heard enough. 

As he was leaving he heard Kimi ask, “Where’s the first aid kit I gave you last time?” and then the door slammed behind him and he shuffled downstairs to relieve Oscar of his position at the bar. 

 

He didn’t want to think about the games that brought him to this moment or the life Max hid in that apartment. He wanted to go home and hug his parents and his sister. He wanted to take back the last three years and never step foot in this bar in 2012. He wanted to put Max and Oscar in a car and drive to the closest state border.

But he couldn’t do any of that right now.

So instead he told Oscar to wipe down the tables as he unlocked the heavy front door and got ready for another shift at The Lucky Lion. 

Instead, he ignored how Kimi had said last time.

Instead, he told Oscar he would drive him to school in the morning.

 

This was his life and being angry wouldn’t help him. 

It wouldn’t help anyone. 

Least of all Max.

Notes:

Also in case you're wondering, all the chapters get their own tarot card so feel free to look into those before or after you finish if you want a little feel for the ~vibes~

Chapter 6: Footballs & Catching Feelings (Three of Cups)

Summary:

Football game anyone?

Notes:

Friends,

We are back to our regularly scheduled programming! Freedom from EXAMS!!!! I came out spectacularly average which is really all we can ever hope for :)

That means that for at least the next three weeks there will be updates posted on either Saturday or Sunday. After that I start my summer job, so who's to say what the future holds; but I'm loving this fic so there will be many an update (just not necessarily like clockwork).

Best,
G.

P.S.
I had to get lots of help and needed many corrections on terminology for this one, so kudos go out to Thomas for knowing American football.

Friday night football was practically a religious event in a town this small on a September night. The stadium lights were lit and the nighttime air was just on the side of cold with a slight breeze snaking its way through the crowd. Max was sitting on the hard metal bleachers next to his father and watching the cheerleaders down below try to hit their marks as the teams took a time out. They were playing some school from an hour away that Max couldn’t remember the name of but the uniform was green and their mascot was some kind of bird. The other side of the stands was half-filled with visitors and other students from the opposing school. 

He watched Oscar on the sidelines taking practice kicks into a small net. Another boy, maybe Pierre, was handing him football after football as he tried to stay ready for when he needed to take a kick. A swarm of green and orange players made their way back onto the field as the teams got ready to go again. 

“Go get me some popcorn, would ya?” Jos handed him a ten dollar bill without looking.

“Yeah, can I–”

“–Yuh.” Jos grunted in response. 

Max stood up and walked down the stairs listening to the metal creak with each step. The crowd cheered as the ball was snapped to Alex and he lobbed it to Pierre twenty yards away but Max was busy making sure he didn’t miss a step. When he got to the base of the bleachers and turned to walk toward the concession, a familiar face came into view. 

“Max!” The Frenchman said warmly.

Max smiled. “Hi, Jules.” He was sitting on the first row of bleachers holding a bag of popcorn in one hand and a coffee in the other. 

Next to Jules, Charles turned and his eyes grew wide. “Max, hi!”

“Hi, Charles.” Max waved and tried to keep walking before someone noticed he was standing in the way. 

“You should join us!” Charles gestured to the empty seat next to him with his own cup of steaming liquid.

“Um…” Max looked back up to where his father was sitting, but with all the people in the stands, Jos was out of his line of sight. 

He turned back to them, “I’m actually here with my dad. He wanted to watch Oscar play tonight.” 

“Oh.” Charles’ lips turned downward for a moment but then sprung back up. “Well you should both join us. Lando told me these were good seats for our first in-person game. We are happy to share, especially with you.”

“Yes, we are happy to share with you , Max.” Jules laughed but turned it into a cough when Charles quickly side-eyed him.  

Max shook his head, “No, no. He likes to sit further up and wouldn’t want to sit this close, but I can probably sit for a minute. Then I have to get him popcorn from the concession stand.” 

Max sat down on the other side of Charles and looked out at the field. There was a metal bar in his line of sight from the railing further in front of them, but just below Max saw what Lando was referring to. 

“You know it’s not really a good view of the field but it’s definitely a good view of the cheerleaders.” Max chuckled and eyed Lando as he hoisted a petite blonde into the air. 

Charles nodded eagerly, “Yes, yes. We don’t have cheerleaders in Monaco so this was new to me. But he is good, no?”

“He’s definitely something.” Lando caught the girl as she came gracefully back down to earth. He jumped away and clasped his hands together, smiling with his whole face. He waved as the crowd cheered and then noticed Max. Somehow Lando’s smile got larger as he waved at Charles and Max. Charles waved eagerly back but Max just shook his head. As he looked back up at the game, he watched the ball soar into Pierre’s hands in the end zone—scoring a touchdown and immediately running across the field to hug Alex. 

Max stood up with the rest of the crowd to cheer. Charles and Jules followed suit a second later and joined in loudly. “Woooooo hooooo” hooted Charles. “ Allez, les oranges! ”

Max turned to laugh at him and so did Jules, “Charles, I am sure they have a mascot and are not just called les oranges .” 

Max nodded, “Yeah, we’re the Eagles.”

“Oh, les aigles like your national bird. That is weird. You should have a different mascot. Something more fierce. Like… well… I don’t know… but something better.”

Max shook his head and looked back out at the field. “Now it’s Oscar’s turn.” He nodded at the field for Charles to look.

As Oscar ran out onto the field, Max could see the younger boy cracking his knuckles and stretching his neck. Max didn’t realize he was copying the behavior until the sound reached his ears and he quickly held his hands behind his back to quiet his own nerves. 

“That is Max’s younger brother, Jules.” Charles pointed toward Oscar. 

Jules looked around Charles toward Max, “Ah, you have a younger brother! How fun. Was he at the bar the other night? Or was he hiding?”

Max nodded absentmindedly but all his attention was on Oscar. 

Oscar knew Jos was here tonight and Max knew firsthand what that feeling could do to someone’s focus.

Oscar set his feet, dropped his hands to his sides, and gave a small nod to signal for the snap. The ball flew backward from the line and Oscar ran forward to strike it, watching as it flew gracefully between the reaching arms of the goalpost. The cheers from the crowd erupted around them again as the home team went up 7-0 against their foes. Max couldn’t join in. He simply watched the way Oscar’s body relaxed back into the ground—his shoulders falling to their normal place, his hands calmly dropping by his sides. He nodded once at Alex and then made his way back to the bench to get some water and rest for a bit before he was needed again.  

“Max?” Jules asked again. 

Max turned to look and noticed them both watching him. “Hmm?”

“Was he at the bar when you beat Lorenzo?”

Max swallowed hard, “No.” He said firmly. “Oscar isn’t allowed in the bar. He’s too young.”

“Ahh he is not that young,” Charles rolled his eyes, “He is fifteen—the same as Arthur, my younger brother. Arthur is allowed in bars.”

Jules smiled, “We live in a different place, Charles. Maybe fifteen is too young here.” 

Still the Montagasque wouldn’t let up, “Come on, Max. You are telling me your father owns a bar and doesn’t let your brother in the building? Doesn’t he ever help? Or play billard américain and hustle like you?” Charles was teasing but it cut through Max. 

“Shhh, Charles, I already told you. We don’t talk about that in public.” He looked around but no one was listening to them. “Oscar doesn’t play pool and fifteen is too young in America to be in a bar so no, my dad doesn’t just let him in like he’s special or something. He’s not allowed to be in the building during working hours. So. He’s. Not. Got it?” Max needed Charles to understand but the other boy was stubborn. 

“I don’t know if I believe you—he lives there!”

“I’m telling the truth, Charles. Just drop it.”

Charles rolled his eyes again and put his hands up, “Fine, fine, if you say so.” He clicked his tongue and pointed out at the field. “At least he is good at this kicker position.”

“Yeah he is good at it.” Max nodded and gestured to the field with his own hand. “He comes out here four times a week and practices with Lando. It’s really important to him. I think he’s trying to get a scholarship to college.” Max looked out at the field proudly. If anyone could get out of this town with a football scholarship it was Oscar. Not only could he leave with a good kicking record behind him, but he also had the grades to go to a good school. Max made sure of that. 

“Charles, you should ask him for pointers before you try out next week.” Jules said as the other team set up to snap the ball to their quarterback. 

“He told me he would help me this weekend if I met him at the field.” Charles looked wistfully at the goalpost lost in his own thoughts.

Max whipped his head to look at the two of them.“What tryout?”

Charles looked at him like he was silly, “Max, the tryout. For football. To be the backup kicker. Come on, you know this?”

Max shook his head, “No I don’t. When did you decide you wanted to try out for football?”

Charles hummed as they both ignored the raucous cheers of the fans and the game in front of them. “I think I talked to the coach about it last week while you were out for a few days. Maybe Wednesday or Thursday?” He paused. “Yes. Yes, I think it was Wednesday.” Charles nodded. “He told me to practice for a week and then try out on Monday the–uh–the 22nd.” Charles swallowed hard and ducked his head grabbing his neck. 

“Why were you out, Max? Were you sick?” Jules interjected smoothly, ignoring Charles’ odd reaction. 

Now it was Max’s turn to duck his head. “No, I was visiting some colleges. We went down to Austin, San Antonio, Houston, just to look around and stuff.”

“Oh yes. Now is the time to think about university. Which one was your favorite?”

“My favorite?” Max hummed and picked at his nails

“Yes… where would you like to go?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. They were all fine I guess.” 

“Just you and your dad went?”

“Uh, yeah. Just me and my dad cause Oscar had practice.”

Jules nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “Do you know what you want to study?”

Max looked out at the field as Oscar set up to already take another kick. “No. I really haven’t thought too much about it. College is just one of those things, ya know? Something that other people tell you you should do.” 

Charles raised an eyebrow as he finally came back into their conversation. “But, Max, you are so good at math. You always have the right answers on all the homework. I thought you wanted to do engineering?”

Oscar ran forward and the ball sailed in a beautiful arc across the sky and through the welcoming arms of the goal post. Alex ran over and hugged him—practically picking him up off the ground in the process. 14-0.  

“No, that’s just what Oscar always tells me I should do. His mom was an engineer before she died.” Max said softly, feeling far, far away from the conversation taking place. He pointed to where Oscar stood for the kick. “Charles, it will feel different kicking a football than kicking a soccer ball. The angle is different where it hits your foot. When you meet up with Oscar, have him explain it to you. There is a learning curve but I think you are probably athletic enough to get it.” 

There is no response and when he finally looks over, they are watching him with sad eyes, “I’m so sorry, Max. When did you lose your mom?” Jules asked gently.

Max shook his head and looked back out at the field as the teams ran off for halftime. “No, not my mom. Oscar’s mom. She died in 2011. I never knew her. He–he doesn’t really talk about her that often. 

Jules nods, “You know Charles’—”

“—Look Lando is doing the halftime show!” Charles interrupted and pointed to the field. 

The cheerleaders made their way out to the center of the field and started a routine. Charles, Max, and Jules watched as Lando threw flyer after flyer into the air and caught them to the droll sound of techno pop in the background. Max stifled a giggle as Lando ran forward and did a round-off before their photo finish involving girls hoisted in the air at different intervals and the shaking of pompoms. 

Charles looked out in awe at the field, “It is just so… wow.” 

“Yeah, like I said. It sure is something.” Max slowly sat back down and then realized how much time he had spent there. He stood up suddenly. 

“I–”

But Jules interrupted, “—What did you do to your hand, Max?” Pointing at the finger brace wrapped around the pointer and middle fingers on his left hand.

Max pulled his hand close to his chest. “Oh nothing, it was an accident.” 

“What happened?” Charles said looking pointedly at the brace like it would start talking to him.

“Nothing really. It’s okay.”

“But it’s in a brace?”

“I just… I think I fractured them, but it’s okay. It just needs a brace for a week or two and it should heal on its own.”

“When did you do that?” Charles squinted at him, “I saw you at school today and you were fine.” 

“After school when I was making dinner I slipped in the kitchen and my fingers just kind of… broke my fall. It was an accident.”

“Where did you get the brace?” Jules asked. “Did you already see a doctor?”

Max shook his head, “No, no. I had it from the last time I fractured my fingers. Like I told you—I just need to pay more attention and try to be less clumsy.” He took a step away from them eager to stop explaining the injury. “Anyway, it was good to see you but my dad will probably be wondering where I am. I should grab him the stuff he wanted from the concession stand. See you later.” 

“Goodbye, Max” Jules nudged Charles with his shoulder and Charles jumped up. “Oh, Max, I will come with you. I’m out of hot cocoa and want another.” He gestured with his apparently empty cup and then set it next to Jules on the bleachers. 

Max couldn’t think of a way to say no to Charles so he just nodded slowly and looked up at the higher rows of bleachers but his view of Jos was still blocked. Charles matched his step as they began to walk the length of the platform and then down the second set of stairs. When Max’s feet hit the yellow grass he focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not the loud presence of the boy next to him. 

Everything about Charles demanded attention. First, he smelled like some kind of citrus fruit. Max couldn’t figure out if it was his deodorant or a cologne but during school Max could tell when Charles walked by in the hallway and standing next to him as they made their way to the concession line and patiently waited was practically like being spritzed by the scent. Second, Charles stuck out like a sore thumb among the rural crowd in Abilene. The boy wore a loose linen button down and baggy ripped jeans with bright white sneakers. He was practically a neon sign screaming TOURIST in big blazing letters. It was impossible for Max to fade into the background when he was next to Charles—something he managed to do just fine when he was on his own. Third, he had these bright green eyes that Max swore sparkled under certain lighting. He could feel them brush against his skin and when he looked up Charles’ smile was wide enough to create a mirror image on Max’s own face. 

“What?” Max asked. 

“Nothing,” Charles kept smiling. “This is just so fun.” 

Max looked at him in disbelief. It was just a Friday night football game. They were practically a dime a dozen all across America and Max couldn’t understand why Charles was so happy to be here under the bright lights, with the bugs and the screaming fans constantly buzzing around them. It was just another night for Max, but Charles had this look in his eyes like it was the first time he was tasting candy. He watched Charles watch the game and saw excitement and fascination that he was used to seeing in the eyes of children and not boys his own age. It made Max’s smile grow even wider. Charles gasped as the home defense stole the ball from the opposing players. “Ahh, look, Max, look. It is our turn again! It is like magic!”

 Max shook his head and moved a spot forward in line. “Charlie, it’s just a game. There’s no magic.” 

“ Non , Max there is magic. The players move like they were crafted for the sport. You have seen it too many times in-person to appreciate the beauty.”

“I… yeah… you’re probably right.” Max didn’t think he had ever met anyone quite like Charles and it kept surprising him.

 

When they got to the front of the line Max noticed George was the one working at the concession stand and groaned audibly. 

“Well, well, well, Verstappen has money to buy something? That’s a first.”

Max rolled his eyes, “Yeah, popcorn and a Kinder chocolate bar, Russell.” He turned to Charles, “You said you wanted hot chocolate right?” Charles nodded. “And a hot chocolate.” 

“Non. Max, you don’t have to buy anything for me. I have money.”

“It’s—”

“—Charles, just let him. He never buys anything with his own money.” George took the cash and grabbed a bag to fill with popcorn.

“Why are you even doing this, Russell? You hate football.”

“If you must know, Verstappen, it’s for student council and as President I’m supposed to work at least two shifts at sporting events. Other members are supposed to work with me, but everyone seemed to be unavailable tonight.” George said disdainfully as he handed Max the popcorn and spun around toward the hot water dispenser. “We’re raising money for a reusable water fountain in the gym since the old one is rusty. We’re almost at our goal if you want to donate more of your hard earned gambling money.” George raised an eyebrow and handed over the hot chocolate.

Charles clicked his tongue as he took the cup, “George, we don’t talk about that.” 

George pursed his lips in reply, “Oh? We ? Who knew there was a we regarding the two of you .” He looked between them and seemed to be calculating something. 

“I don’t gamble, Russell. I’m just better at pool than you. And I asked for a Kinder bar.” Max interrupted.

George glared at Max and didn’t move. “You’re just better because you cheat.” 

“I do not cheat.” Max took a step closer and tried to reach to grab a chocolate bar himself but Charles put a hand on his shoulder and he stopped. The citrus scent enveloped both of them and Max took a deep breath before slowly releasing the tension from his shoulders.

“Come on, George. We’ll get out of your way. Just let Max have the chocolate.” 

George glared, “Fine.” He tossed the candy at him. “But I’m keeping the change as a donation and as a comeuppance for your rudeness.”

“ My rudeness? I—” 

“—Okay, have a nice night, George.” Charles steered Max away from the concession stand and back over across the grass before stopping at the first set of stairs to look out at the game in front of them. 

“He’s such a condescending ass.” Max took a bite of his chocolate bar. 

“He really is not that bad. You just let him get under your skin. His insults are barely barbed; they are usually just facts that you don’t like.”

Max sighed as he stared out at the field. “You just got here, Charlie. Trust me, there are barbs beneath his words. You just don’t understand it yet.”

Charles raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. The other team scored a touchdown and the visitor section of the stands cheered. 14-7.

Max finally turned from the field to look at Charles again.

“I should get back to my dad. He’ll be wondering where I went.”

“Right. Yeah. That makes sense.” The light seemed to dim in his green eyes. 

“But I’ll see you Monday right?” Max tried quickly to get it back. 

“Maybe you could come this weekend when Oscar helps me with my kick? To help with the… angle of my foot?”

Max worked his jaw. He didn’t know if Jos would let him leave this weekend. “I can try. I have to ask my dad and make sure all my chores are done and stuff.”

“Right, right.”
“Yeah.”

“But you will try?”

Max nodded. “Yeah. I can try.”

Charles nodded in response. “Good.”

Max turned to walk up the first set of stairs and along the platform. He heard Charles’ steps not far behind. When he passed their seats he quickly said, “See ya later, Jules,” and kept walking.  He swung up the stairs and made it two rows in front of Jos before he heard Charles yell his name. He turned and saw the boy a couple steps down holding Max’s phone. 

“Hey, you left this on the seat down there.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Max walked down the few steps to grab it back from him.

“Of course.”

They stared at each other for one second longer than necessary and then Max blushed and pulled the phone from Charles’ hand. “See you this weekend.”

Charles’ face lit up, “Yeah. I can’t wait to see you kick like Oscar.”

Max shook his head to explain that there wasn’t an athletic bone in his body not related to pool but Charles had already turned to walk back down the stairs. Max stood there for another beat—popcorn in one hand and his phone in the other before turning slowly to walk up the rest of the stairs. 

As he sat down, Jos side-eyed him.

“Who was that?” Jos took the bag of popcorn from his hands..

“No one. Just a kid in my English class.”

“He looks familiar.”

Max just shrugged in response. Charles was a good thing. His good thing. He wasn’t going to let Jos take that away from him. 

“Oscar’s doing well tonight.”

“Yeah, he is.” 

“Maybe if you hadn’t spent so long talking to that boy and not watching the game you would know he scored three of his kicks.”

Max knew he shouldn’t respond. He knew talking back just made it worse, but he could never bite his tongue when given the opportunity to correct someone. 

“I wasn’t talking to him the whole time. I was watching Oscar while I was in line for your popcorn.” 

Jos raised an eyebrow but kept his focus on the game as he took a bite.

Max waited for the response but it never came. Technically he did miss one of the kicks but Jos didn’t need to know that. 

They zeroed back in on the game for five minutes. Silence coasted between them and Max put feelers out for any kind of charge or sign that Jos was going to blow, but nothing happened. The team tried the first down, then the second, then the third, and finally the fourth was next. Just as Max settled back into his seat thinking Jos was too focused on the game—it happened. Alex scored a touchdown by running past the defense on the fourth down and the crowd stood up to cheer. There was a roar from the bleachers as the home team pushed their lead to 27-7. 

At the same time everyone stood up, Jos turned the bag of popcorn upside down, dumped the rest of it in on the bleachers in front of Max, and scoffed loudly, “God, you’re so fucking clumsy, Max. Can’t even hold a bag of popcorn without making a mess.”

“I–”

“—Well?” Jos raised both hands and gestured at the yellow buttery mess. “Pick it up.” Jos raised his eyebrows and sat back down slowly as the people around them turned to look for the angry voice. There had been a roar of excited noise a second ago but now all Max could hear was the blood pumping in his ears. He felt goosebumps raise up along his bare arms as if his body could sense the change in the air. He froze for only a moment, but it felt longer than the time he had been away.

Slowly the crowd sat back down and people turned their heads to watch as Max took the empty bag and picked up the popcorn scattered all across the metal bleachers. Jos shook his head, “If you don’t make them clean up their messes, how will they ever learn?” He asked no one in particular. Max could feel his cheeks growing red and he hoped no one sitting around them actually knew him, but it didn’t matter. Jos found an audience wherever he went. People either turned to look back at the game or nodded along to his vitriol and stared hard at Max.   

When Max finished, he set the bag down on the other side of him and slowly took a seat. 

“You missed your brother score again while you were messing around. He’s hitting every mark tonight and what are you doing?” Jos leaned in close so only Max could hear, “I’m so glad everyday that he hasn’t turned out like you. I must be doing something right with that boy. He understands hard work. He doesn’t talk back. He knows when to shut his mouth and do as he’s told.” Jos shook his head again and said loudly. “Go throw that away. I don’t want to see you again tonight.” He turned back to look at the field and Max knew he had been dismissed. 

He walked back down the bleachers and took a sharp right turn to avoid being seen by Jules and Charles. He swung down the other side of the platform and walked further down the second set of stairs until he was back at the yellow, dying grass. He tossed the popcorn into a trashcan nearby and looked out at the unnatural green of the turf. 

Oscar was doing really well tonight. Hitting four kicks and not showing an ounce of nerves. The kid had definitely found his place here in Texas and it was on a football field. Max watched as the other team tried to get the ball past the defense. The tight-end got tackled and Max winced as both boys hit the unforgiving ground.

 

In…out…one

In…out…two

 

He looked over at the bench but from here he couldn’t make out which player was Oscar. They all looked the same in their orange jerseys and white helmets. Just a sea of high school boys and the glare from the stadium lights shining down from above. Max took another deep breath and tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling Jos had left him with. He looked up to see who was around and locked eyes with yet another familiar face. 

“Hey, Maxie.” Danny smiled when Max finally noticed him.

“Danny? What are you doing here?”

“Jos told me I was picking you and Oscar up tonight after the game. He said he had plans so I was your ride home.”

“He’s got you chauffeuring us around now?”

“Guess so…”
“I would’ve just driven if I’d have known he wasn’t taking us home.” 

Danny just shook his head. “It’s fine. We’ll get back to the bar before it gets too crazy for Carlos to handle anyway. Plus he has to pay me to watch Oscar play, so it’s kind of a win-win for me.”

Max laughed, “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Danny’s eyes raked once over the younger boy and sharpened when he saw the brace. “What happened?”

Max tensed and put his hand behind him “I fell. It’s fine.” 

“Are they broken?”

“Fractured. Probably. It should heal in a couple weeks.”

Danny hummed, “So that’s why you’re not playing tonight.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yeah, but I’ll try a game or two tomorrow. It’s my left hand so it should be fine.”

“It’ll fuck up your balance.”

“Maybe, or maybe not.”

“It will.” 

“Well then I’ll adjust.” 

Danny stared out at the field. There was only three minutes left in the game but in reality that was at least ten. 

“What happened?” 

“I fell. It was an accident.”

“Don’t lie, Max.” Daniel’s words were clipped but he tried to keep his tone even. 

“Are we going to do this every time now, Daniel? Because that’ll get old, fast.” 

“Yeah, Max, we are going to do it every time. Unless you want to speed up the process and just tell me what happened.” 

“I liked this better when you ignored it.” 

Daniel’s gaze sliced toward the younger boy. “I didn’t ignore it. I just didn’t think I could help. Now I know I can help.”

Max sighed and watched the ball get tossed from the referee to a player on the other team. “I told you it was an accident.”

Daniel scoffed, “And I told you I don’t believe you.” 

Max turned and clenched his jaw. “He just startled me, okay? I wasn’t expecting him to be home and I stumbled and I landed on my fucking hand. I’m just clumsy as shit. Not everything is his fault.”

“Max—”

“—Daniel!” Jules called excitedly from the top of the stairs. 

Danny looked over and smiled. “Ah, if it isn’t my favorite Frenchie.” Jules jogged over and hugged Daniel effectively ending the previous conversation.

“How are you? What are you doing here?” Jules asked.

Daniel’s smile took over his entire face as he nodded at Max, “Oh just picking up the kids. I’m on babysitting duty until I get back to the bar. What are you doing here? American football doesn’t really seem like your scene.”

Jules laughed, “Ah Lorenzo’s little brother wants to play for the school team so we are here to watch the boys play.” 

Daniel looked over and saw Max and Charles laughing at something the brunette said. He was struck with how different the Max from a moment ago was compared to this one talking to Charles. How relaxed and soft Max looked when Charles was talking and how animated the boy looked when he responded. It was a totally different kid.

“Are they doing another try out just for him?” Daniel asked half in a daze.

“Yeah, Charles said the coach needs a backup kicker since his son is injured.” 

Daniel hummed. “Be careful. You don’t want him to be too good and take Oscar’s spot.” 

Jules laughed again, “ Non , Charles will not be able to take Max’s little brother’s spot. Don’t worry. Plus it is only for one season since he will go back to Monaco next summer.”

Daniel nodded, “I’m sure Lorenzo is happy to have the company.” 

“ Oui , he misses Charles dearly, so having him in America has been a breath of fresh air for both of us.” 

“Where is he?”

Jules sighed. “Working as always. He is so busy. He has no sense of leisure time.”

Daniel laughed, “Sounds about right.”

The sound of the buzzer broke through the cheers of the crowd and finally the game was over. 

Max and Charles clapped as the home team ran sideline to sideline to celebrate their win. 

Jules turned to the two boys, “Charles, do you still want to get food?” 

Charles nodded, “Yes, someone told me to go to the burger place… um… ‘something burger.’”

Max laughed, “Whataburger?”

“Yes, yes that one!” Charles said enthusiastically.

Max rolled his eyes, “That’s just a fast-food place, Charles.”

“An American fast-food place I have never been to, Max. And I want to go.”

“We can go, just don’t tell your Maman .” Jules teased. “She would kill me if she knew you were eating junk.” 

Charles nodded, “She would kill me too. It’s a deal.”

Oscar walked over from the bench with his duffle bag over one shoulder and his cleats in hand. 

Max smiled, “There’s the champ! Nice job out there, Osc!” He ruffled Oscar's sweaty hair as the younger boy ducked away.   

“Thanks. Ya know, just doing what they tell me.” 

“Oscar, you made every kick go through the goalposts! It was so fun to watch!”

“Thanks, Charles.”

“Oscar, you did so well!” Jules said. 

“Thanks. Um, sorry, do I know you?” Oscar looked at Jules with his face pinched in confusion.

Danny laughed, “Oscar, this is Charles’ godfather and a friend of mine. He lives with Charles’ older brother, Lorenzo, and came to watch today.”

“Oh. Nice to meet you. Thanks.” Oscar turned to Max, “Did dad come?”

A muscle twitched in Max’s jaw, but he simply said, “Yeah, Jos is here.” He turned to look up at the bleachers and stiffened immediately. Daniel’s eyes followed and he saw Jos standing at the top of the stairs looking down at all of them. Daniel could see the gears turning behind the older man’s eyes as he looked at Charles standing next to his son. “Charles, come here.” Daniel said quietly under his breath. 

“What? What did you say?” Charles smiled in confusion at Daniel. 

“Just come over here, please.” Daniel and Jules were standing six or seven feet away from the bleachers which was further than Max, Oscar, and Charles. It wasn’t much but it would be enough space to keep Charles away from Jos. 

Charles looked to Max for guidance or maybe a semblance of understanding but Max was watching his father slowly walk down the stairs and towards them. Charles shook his head and walked toward the other pair until he was next to Jules and out of the way of whatever tension had pulled taut between Max and his father. 

“I told you I didn’t want to see you again tonight.” Jos raised an eyebrow.

“I-I’m leaving. I just wanted to congratulate Oscar.” Max stared over Jos’ left shoulder. He could feel green eyes attached to the back of his neck and knew Charles would ask him about this later. 

“Well?” Jos crossed his arms.

Max turned to Oscar who looked uncomfortable, “Congrats on the win, Oscar. You played really well tonight.” 

Oscar nodded once, “Thanks.”

Jos glared, “There, you’ve congratulated him. Now go.”

“Da–”

“–Go.” There was no room for argument.

“Yup. See ya later, Oscar.” Max turned and walked quickly past Danny who handed him the keys as he went by. Max kept his focus on the ground as he put one foot in front of the other and didn’t look back at the green eyes that followed him until he turned the corner toward the parking lot. 

Danny watched as Jos pulled Oscar in for a hug and congratulated him on the win. He ruffled his hair and called Coach Stroll over to talk about Oscar’s ability all with a smile on his face. Oscar matched the look with a tight smile of his own and Danny knew the younger boy’s win was soured by the exaggerated anger directed at Max. He kept looking back at the three of them as if hoping to be saved, but there was nothing any of them could do with Jos’ focus directed at Oscar and his football prowess. The only person that could save him was just effectively banished from the field.

When Danny finally turned back to the people around him, Jules and Charles were whispering tursely in French. 

He interrupted, “—Hey, did y’all still want to go to Whataburger?”

Charles looked surprised by the sudden English directed at him. 

“Oh, um, yes? Probably.” 

Danny smiled softly, “I just think Max will want to grab dinner if you want to meet us at the one on Main?”

Jules nodded, “Yes, Daniel. I think we would love that.”

They started walking slowly toward the parking lot when Daniel suddenly remembered he was supposed to take Oscar home, but when he turned to look again Jos was nowhere to be seen and Oscar was standing with Mr. Vettel and Lando. Oscar waved and Danny waved back before turning once again back towards the parking lot. Oscar would have more fun at Lando’s anyway.

“Is Max okay?” Charles asked softly as they started walking again. 

Daniel looked down into the worried face of yet another young boy and was yet again met with the wide ranging impact of Jos’ anger. “Yeah. He’ll be okay. His dad can just be intense.”

“Why was he so mad? What did Max do?”

Daniel’s smile grew tight and didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s a question as old as time, Charlie. You’d have to ask Max.”

Charles furrowed his brow in response. 

Daniel veered off from them towards his pick-up, “See you in a minute.” 

They nodded and waved before picking back up in quick French.

Daniel walked quickly to his truck and saw Max sitting with his head against the passenger door window. When he opened the driver’s side door and hopped in, the boy didn’t turn his head to look. 

Daniel started the car, “Put your seatbelt on, sport .” He accented the end, hoping to make Max smile, but the younger boy just did as he was told and kept his head against the cool glass of the window. 

Daniel started the quick five minute drive down the road and after a minute of silence said, “It’s not your fault.”

Max didn’t respond. 

“I mean it. It’s not your fault he’s a bully and an ass and… and gets his rocks off being mean to his kids.” 

“His kid.” Max mumbled. 

“What was that?” Danny said, leaning closer to him and stopping at the stoplight in front of them.

“His kid .” Max turned to look at him, anger blazing in his words. “He’s only like that with me . Did you see how he congratulated Oscar? Did you see the praise he leveled his way after I left? I don’t even need to be there to know it happened because it always happens! I could have a perfect day at the bar, make all kinds of money, and I would still be a fuckup; but Oscar? Oscar’s foot was kissed by God! He can’t do anything wrong. I can’t even talk to fucking Charles without getting kicked out of a football game.”

“He was mad at you for talking to Charles?”

“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” Max began to deflate. “He just wanted to know who Charles was and I wouldn’t tell him.”

Daniel parked the car in the Whataburger parking lot and they stared through the glass windows into the brightly lit haven beyond.

“Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

“Because Charles is my friend! He’s mine . And Jos doesn’t get to take that away from me.”

A lightbulb went off in Danny’s head suddenly. Something he’d been considering for a while but only now found the words for. 

“Do you…Max…do you like Charles?”

“He’s my friend. Of course I like him.”

Daniel closed his eyes briefly. “I mean do you—”

“—Daniel, can we just go in? I’m hungry and I want to see the look on Charles’ face when he tries the burger. It is the only thing that can salvage this night.”

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Mas sighed and thumped his head once against the glass. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s not Oscar’s fault that his foot is holy and shit. It’s just Jos being Jos.” Max paused and then turned to smirk at the older man. “Besides, I’d rather be a fuckup than have to hang out with Lawrence Stroll all day anyway.”

Danny laughed, “Sure, Max. Whatever you say. Let’s go in.” 

The smell of french fries hit them as soon as they stepped out of the truck. Jules and Charles were inside ordering and Max pulled Danny’s wrist to hurry him toward the building like a small child would. 

Daniel smiled at his new realization and the idea of someone like Charles in Max’s life. 

Maybe Max would be okay after all.

Notes:

ooooooooooo ;)

Chapter 7: Tryouts & Tribulations (The Star)

Summary:

Charles' POV

 

“Those who are dead are not dead / They’re just livin’ in my head”

-42, Coldplay

 

Charles awoke to the soft song of hummingbirds as the first rays of morning light broke through the blinds of his small bedroom. For a fleeting moment as his soul stirred back toward consciousness, he thought that he heard the bustle of a city clashing against the lapping waves of a sea against the shore. Monaco was such a beautiful place.

He wasn’t home, however, and the thin, dry Texas air that flew into his lungs with each breath reminded him of such.

Charles couldn’t remember when he fell asleep, but after a moment he rolled over to grab his phone from his nightstand. A bright picture of a large, smiling family assaulted his eyes and washed away a haggard reflection.  September 22, 05:37 .

September 22

That meant Charles had probably gotten three hours of sleep? Maybe four? It was a rough night last night. He had stayed late at school to attend some extra tutoring so that he didn’t fall behind so soon into the semester, and then after that he decided to go for a long walk before settling down to knock out the mountain of assignments that had assembled into a giant wave that threatened to swallow him whole. Even before he started work last night, he knew he wouldn’t sleep. Not last night, and certainly not tonight with the tryout and all, but that was a problem for later.

Still lying in bed, Charles unlocked his cellphone and tapped his phone app. He saw a number of missed calls from last night when he had been on Do Not Disturb. One of them looked like a spam call, another was from Arthur. He also saw one from his mom that came through at midnight his time.

His eyes strayed to the bottom right portion of the screen where the button for voicemails was. There were no new voicemails, but as his thumb moved to tap, he realized what he was doing and instinctively shut the phone off. Charles dropped it onto the bed next to him and rolled over to grab a shirt from the floor.

He climbed out of bed and threw on some shorts before venturing out of his room and into the hallway of Lorenzo and Jules’ house. Jules sat at the end of a long black sectional sofa.  The man who was practically Charles’ third brother held the morning paper in one hand and a large cup of coffee in the other. A lithe orange tabby rested in his lap. Charles could hear the sounds of rushing water from his brother’s bathroom as he poured his own small cup of coffee and walked toward the living room window. Jules said nothing as the younger Leclerc walked past him, too engrossed in the tales of whatever riveting events had occurred in their sleepy town between sunset and sunrise.

Charles could feel eyes on the back of his neck. Julles was watching him, waiting perhaps for Charles to speak. Normally, Charles would. 

Maybe it’s just Tigrou . I don’t want to talk to anyone. Not today… Jules must know this, no? 

If I can just make it through today.

Charles hadn’t even noticed the shower stop when his brother’s cheerful voice broke the uneasy silence he had so carefully maintained.

“Ah, Charles, good morning! I have to rush off to get an early start at work, but I made some lunch for you since I had the time this morning. It’s already in your lunch box in the fridge.”

Charles still stood with his face toward the window, his back toward his brother.

“Uhm… thanks, Lorenzo…” 

“It’s your favorite, Croque Monsieur on wheat with plenty of Dijon—just like you had it back home when Maman or Papa would make it for you.”

An old familiar feeling began to fill Charles’ stomach, but its creeping growth up his throat was temporarily paused by the clap of warm hands on his shoulders.

“I know you have a lot going on today, but I hope you know that I—we—are both here for you. And you should call home at some point. I’ll probably do a FaceTime or something tonight after work if you’d like to join. I know everyone would love to hear from you.”

“We’ll see, Lorenzo. I’ll be at school late again tonight, but maybe I’ll get home in time. Thanks.” Charles looked down at his empty mug and walked toward the dishwasher. After putting the mug away, he started to walk back toward his room.

“Well, we’ll see you whenever you get back tonight, Charles. Have a good day at school, ok? Don’t work too hard!” The eldest Leclerc chuckled to himself as he slipped on his shoes and walked out the front door. Charles remained quiet and slunk back into his room to take his own shower and get ready for school. 

Jules still sat on the couch, but now he was staring out the window, newspaper to the side. Tigrou leaped off the sofa and prowled over to the sunnier part of the room by the patio door. Silence again filled the house.

 

—

 

“Charles? Charles? Are you listening to me?”

The back of the boy’s mind filled with visions of flashing lights and sounds of distant shouts as he felt a small, sharp pain along his back. He jolted awake and realized that he had fallen asleep during Chemistry. 

“Ah, Mr. Leclerc has risen from the dead.” Mr. Grosjean, Charles’ Chemistry teacher, held the boy’s gaze, waiting for his response to an unknown question. 

Charles looked around the room, hoping in vain that some recess of his brain heard what had been asked, but it was hopeless. Max, who Charles sat next to in this class as well, looked at him half-expectantly. Charles knew not to expect any help from his new friend. He probably didn’t know the answer either, and he certainly wouldn’t willingly share it with the class even if he did. 

As Charles continued to scan the room, he saw that George’s hand was up. The boy was practically shaking in his seat at the opportunity to prove his knowledge.

Not ready to give up, Charles tried to stall by asking Mr. Grosjean a question.

“I’m sorry, sir, what was the question again?”

Mr. Grosjean sighed, “We’re discussing last night’s homework—read me the naming convention that you found for the fifth formula: Ag2SO3.”

Charles fumbled around with his binder and finally pulled out the crumbled mess that was his homework worksheet from the previous night. He scanned down to number five.

“Ehh, silver sulfate?”

Mr. Grosjean shook his head. “No, Charles, that is Ag2SO4. We covered the basic compounds last week. This should be a simple review.” The teacher scanned the room, “Can anyone else help me with this question?”

Before the words were out of Mr. Grosjean’s mouth, the answer was already flying from George’s lips: “Silver sulfite, sir! SO3 is sulfite, SO4 is sulfate!”

“Good job, George. Let’s have you do the next one.”

The teacher and his pet continued on with the homework review as Charles looked out the classroom window. He saw a group of younger students from the elementary school next door playing out in a field. Groundskeepers were out on their lawnmowers, cutting down the grass for what would be one of the last times until spring. In the distance, over the short rows of portable classrooms that facilitated the high school’s burgeoning student population, Charles could see the tips of the football field’s yellow uprights. He started to lose himself in the past.

–

“Charles, come in here, son! I’ve found a football américain match for us to watch! Washington versus Dallas—a fierce rivalry!”

Charles, a few days removed from his eighth birthday, followed the calls of his father from the hallway into the family’s living room. The room was expertly furnished and was connected to the kitchen and dining room in an open concept. Shelves that lined the large room held various keepsakes and memories from the family’s many international adventures as well as countless family photos. Lorenzo stood a few feet away making lunch, but he had his headphones in and was bobbing his head about.

The boy sat down next to his father who was already knee-deep into an explanation of the teams’ histories. Charles was kind of listening—he loved spending time with his father—but he liked watching the athletes at work more. Charles watched the opening kickoff with awe as the ball sailed from one end of the field all the way to the other.

“... and then after the Washington team was bought by a new owner in the nineties, they’ve been pretty bad. But Dallas has also really struggled in the previous years. The two teams are fallen giants vying for their glory days.” Herve paused his monologue for a moment to watch the action.

“Ahh, son. I’ve always wanted to watch a football américan game in person. The spectacle, the spectators. Their biggest games draw four or five times as many fans as fit in le Stade Louis II ! Imagine that.”

“But, dad, I still don’t understand why they call it football if they barely ever really kick the ball. And isn’t our football the better sport? If American Football is so good, why do they play both sports, but we only play the one?”

“Both questions are good questions, mon fils . But as to your first one, the game used to look a lot more like our football—ah, their soccer—but eventually it took on a greater influence from rugby and the running and throwing, became a greater part of the game. But, take a look at the huddle there, son.” Herve pointed to the television as the players from Washington gathered around their quarterback.

“The quarterback is relaying tons of information in less than ten seconds with as few words as possible. He’s telling all of the receivers where and how to run, he’s telling the linemen how to block and where, he’s telling everyone what order he’s going to look for a pass in, and he’s telling the running backs what to do too. Teams have hundreds of plays and every player has to memorize all of them every week in order to run them to perfection at a moment’s notice. It presents a different kind of beauty.”

Charles looked up at his dad, whose eyes were alight with passion. Herve had been to America a few times before, but mainly only for short business trips or for family vacations that made making other excursions difficult.

Father and son continued this back and forth for nearly two hours as the push and pull affair of the game began to reach a climax. Washington was driving down the field, down two but with a few minutes left on the clock. Everything seemed to be going their way to retake the lead until the quarterback missed a wide open pass on third and long. Herve exclaimed out, “ Puta— ! Ahh, apologies son. You shouldn’t have to hear that from me, but sadly it looks like Washington’s drive has stalled. But that means it’s time for your favorite part!”

Charles whipped his head back to the television as the camera focused on Washington’s kicker as he trotted out onto the field.

“It’s a fifty-five yard kick. That’s around 50 meters, very far from a layup.”

“That’s so far, Dad. Has this kicker ever made it from there before?”
“I’m not sure, Charles, but he’s definitely kicked them in practice. Remember, just like with our football, always practice harder than you need to play!”

Charles nodded toward his father but his eyes remained trained on the kicker as he took steps back from the holder and turned to face his target. The weight of an entire game—the weight of his teammates’ and the fans’ hopes—rested on his shoulders. Even to Charles who was thousands of miles away from the stadium where this man now stood, time seemed to slow down. Herve and his son both fell silent and the commentators were the only voices filling the room.

“Clean snap… clean hold… the kick is away… aaaaaand… OFF THE UPRIGHT? AND IN! WASHINGTON WINS!”

Herve pumped his fist in the air. He hadn’t yet picked an American team to root for, but he was ecstatic to see such an exciting end to the game. Charles was glued to the screen, however, as he watched the Washington players lift the kicker onto their shoulders and carry him back to the sidelines.

Charles sat there with his father throughout the post-game commentary. Herve lectured his son on the history of kickers in the league, and how Washington is the only team to have a kicker named the league-wide most valuable player, all the way back in 1982. The boy eventually started to nod off and felt a pair of firm hands wrap themselves around him and lift him off of the couch. The last thing Charles heard as he was carried down the hall and placed into his bed was the humming of a French lullaby.

–

Charles held that memory for as long as he could. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there staring out the window, but no one bothered him for the remainder of the period until he felt a soft touch on his right shoulder accompanied only by a whisper. The voice shocked him back to the present and the brush of a hand on his shoulder sent a jolt of electricity down his spine.

Max .

“Charles, the bell rang a minute ago. It’s time for lunch. Let’s get out of here before Mr. Grosjean asks to hold you back for… whatever that was earlier.” Max pulled his hand away and turned around to grab his backpack.

Charles threw his books and binder into his backpack as quickly as he could, but Max was already halfway out the door by the time that he was ready to leave. As Charles approached the front of the room, he locked eyes with his teacher who ever so slightly shook his head. Mr. Grosjean let him pass, however, and a breath of relief escaped from Charles’ chest as he crossed the threshold of the classroom into the hallway. 

A cacophony of chaos assaulted the young man’s ears: some of the seniors on the football team—potentially Charles’ soon-to-be teammates—strode down the hallway in their letter jackets, playfully shoving one another as they wandered toward the cafeteria. A group of freshmen bobbed and weaved around the clusters of students like skiers on a slalom course. Charles looked around the hallway but Max was nowhere in sight. He turned right out of the classroom and charted a path toward the cafeteria.

A voice directed toward Charles broke through the bedlam. It was not one Charles was excited to hear.

“Charles, what was that earlier today? I know you’re new here, but you’ve been really good so far with answering questions in class. And that was an easy one! What got into you?”

Charles turned to his left to find the tall, ever-confident figure of George striding down the hall in lockstep with him.

He paused for a moment, trying to think of a response that was at least somewhat civil. After a few moments, he replied, “Eh, I was up late last night finishing that homework. I must have just tripped up on that one by accident.” Charles paused for a brief moment before continuing in a more pointed tone, “Thanks for covering for me though. I don’t know what I would have done without your assistance.”

George walked right into the small trap that Charles had laid. “Yeah, it’s no big deal. I was happy to help you and Mr. Grosjean out. This unit’s been such a tough one for most of the students, but my tutor and I covered all the compounds over the summer, so this is honestly more of a review for me.”

Charles pursed his lips, his head still trained forward. George didn’t even notice, either because his eyes were also trained on their path forward or because he was too lost in his own high.

“The compounds really are a tricky thing, but they’re the building block for all of the work that will follow in Mr. Grosjean’s class—he told me so! If you need any extra help, be sure to let me know, Charles!”

Charles was about to offer a half-hearted reply as the pair walked through the cafeteria doors. The willpower to do so left him as he merely replied, “Yeah, well, I’ll see you next class, mate,” as he walked off toward his new-found group of lunch buddies.

Max, Lando, and Lance were already eating when Charles plopped his lunch box down onto the table. The trio had been talking about something as Charles approached, but their conversation ended with a harsh shushing by Max as Charles sat down. Lance broke the brief silence, turning his head toward Charles.

“Sorry about poking you so hard today in class, dude, but Mr. Grosjean was getting a little tense and you weren’t reacting, so it was the only thing that I could think of. For all of our sakes.”

Charles replied as he began to unzip his lunchbox, “That’s alright. Thank you for alerting me. I have not been here too long, obviously, but I fear that it could have gotten much worse in there than the slight humiliation I faced at getting the answer wrong.”

Lance nodded and turned back toward Max and Lando. His leg stuck out to the side of their lunch table: it was immobilized in a hard brace that practically kept his leg at a 180 degree angle. 

Charles still wasn’t sure what the trio had been talking about a few moments ago, but he had his thoughts. He put them to the side and asked the table a question, “Lance, I am so sorry about your injury, but your father has asked me to come to a tryout today to be the backup kicker for Oscar. Before this weekend, I have never really kicked anything but a soccer ball before. Is there anything that I should know if I want to make the team?”

Max turned his head toward Charles as Lance responded, “Well, I don’t know much about soccer honestly, but I think things are kinda similar? You’ll get more than a couple chances today—Dad, er… I mean my dad… UGH! Sorry. Coach, just wants to see what you’ve got and if you can be a serviceable backup to Oscar for the rest of the season. There’s really no pressure at all.”

Charles still felt a little uneasy despite Lance’s attempt at offering some reassuring words. Lando, perhaps sensing this, joined in.

“Yeah, Frenchie, you’ll be fine. They just need someone who looks like they can kind of kick the ball in case Oscar goes down or something. You’ll probably never even see the field.”

Charles saw Max shoot Lando an icy stare, but the look lasted only a moment before he went back to picking at his lunch as Lando continued droning on.

“Look, all I’m saying is that everything’s chill. No one else is trying out right?”

Lance shook his head in reply.

“Ok, good, you’ll go out there, kick the ball a few times, and then you’ll be on the team for the year.”

The lunch table fell silent as the group began to eat in earnest. Charles pulled Lorenzo’s Croque Monsieur out of his lunchbox and began to unwrap it. Although it had been sitting in his cold lunch box for a few hours, cheese and mustard oozed out of the sides of the sandwich. Charles could smell the salted ham as its aroma surrounded him and he could feel the crunch of the toasted bread flake against his fingernails. It was just like Lorenzo said: exactly like his parents used to make for him. 

He began to lift the sandwich to his mouth to take the first savory bite, but before he could, he looked up and saw that the seat opposite his had been filled. Seeing its new occupant caused all of the nerves about this afternoon to bubble back to the surface of his mind.

Oscar.

“Hey, Charles! Good job this weekend. I know learning to kick is pretty hard, but you’ve got a knack for it. Sorry that our lesson got cut a little short but you’re going to crush it today, and I’ll be out there holding the place kicks for you, so I can give you some last minute pointers as things come up!”

Charles put his sandwich back into its container and offered an uneasy reply, “Thank you, Oscar. We will see how it goes. Maybe your football is just not for me? The team deserves to have someone reliable supporting you, no?”

The handful of football players at the table chuckled at that as Oscar locked eyes with Charles.

“Look, you’re only going to be here for a year, yeah? Why not just go full American while you’re here? We’ve got a couple more months of the season left. That’s plenty of time to make some friends on the team, go to a few post-game parties now and then… and… well… I’m not going to finish that thought, but the plan is for you to not even have to step on the field during a game, right? Not to be rude, but you’re just there to smile and look good: you’re like the backup quarterback and that’s all they do. You’re gonna do great at that, Charles.”

Charles paused for a moment, digesting all that Max’s younger brother had just offered. As he sat there, Charles sensed that everyone else at the table was now focused on him, waiting to see how he would react. He felt like each pair of eyes were boring criss-crossing tunnels through his skull.

A year ago, everyone looked at me, waited for me, and sat there silently staring before I finally cracked. There was no running then, there is no running now. I’m going to crack again and fail and humiliate myself all because this stupid tryout had to be today of all days.

Charles’ heart started to race and his vision started to narrow. His hands gripped the edges of the lunch table as he felt them grow damp with sweat.

“Mon fils, respire…”

And why does he have to be here to witness this? Why does he have to be around today? 

Why do I care?

The thump of his heartbeat filled his ears, blocking out the din of the cafeteria. He felt his legs, hidden from everyone else at the table, bouncing against the floor in a chaotic rhythm. A ball of energy came free from the ever-present pit in his stomach and crawled its way up his esophagus. The crescendo was about to arrive. Whether it would come with tears or screams would be for everyone around him to witness. For Max to witness.

“Respire…”

It took all of his willpower, but Charles shut his eyes closed. He took one breath, and then he took a second. He thought of his mother, Arthur, and Lorenzo. He took a third, and then a fourth, as he remembered the warmth of their embrace under a lit Christmas tree. 

I will not drown.

The white-hot lump in his throat receded as the world around him returned to normal. Charles opened his eyes. His unwrapped but untouched Croque Monsieur sat on the table in front of him. Charles’ new friends and classmates were still focused on him.

“Thank you, Oscar. I will try my best, and we will see what happens. That’s all that I can do, no?”

Charles quickly picked his sandwich up and started eating it. He did not look for a response from Oscar, verbal or otherwise. Instead, he ate his food as fast as he could and hurriedly packed his things despite the fact that the next bell was still a half hour away.

He rose from the table. “I will see you all later, maybe in the next class, maybe tomorrow. Bye.”

There were replies of various enthusiasm, but Charles did not pause to process them. Well, one reply that part of him had hoped to hear was missing, but Charles shooed the thought from his mind and walked out of the cafeteria. 

His legs took him through the English hallway toward the main entrance from the school. There, he felt a pull that would have led him out of the front doors and into the world beyond.

But where would I even go? The only place that I want to be is a thousand miles away and a year in the past. 

No… I will stay. It is what he would have wanted me to do.

Charles turned left, away from the school doors, and walked down the long hallway toward the gymnasium. He walked past the auditorium and the fine arts wing before reaching a side door that opened onto a pathway toward the school’s contingent of portable classrooms and to the athletic complex. Charles had Algebra class next, but that was twenty-five minutes away, and all he needed right now was some fresh air. 

The rest of today will pass. I will go to class and meet with Coach Stroll. I will go home and then I will sleep. I will wake up tomorrow and can put today behind me.

He pushed the door open and walked down the path until he reached the curb of the bus loop. Charles placed his backpack onto the ground and sat on the curb, laying back with his head falling onto his backpack and his face turned toward the sky above. 

No one bothered the strange foreign exchange student as the hot Texas sun bore down on him, just as it would have on a summer day back home.

 

— 

 

Charles felt more than a little silly as he walked out of the boys locker room wearing shoulder pads that were a size too big and a helmet that was half a size too small. The pads bounced up and down with every step as his cleats clacked against the concrete pathway that led from the locker room to the field and his head felt like it was being squished. It was all the team had, however, and the equipment manager promised that Charles would get his own set of well-fitting gear once he officially made the team.

The broiling afternoon sun bore down on his high school’s football field. Earlier it had felt nice, but now it felt like a heat lamp. The rest of the team had started practice about an hour ago over on the practice field, but Coach Stroll had somehow managed to reserve the stadium for an hour or so just for Charles. 

Coach Stroll stood near one of the benches, his back turned away from the approaching boy. An orange water cooler rested on the bench next to him, and there was a large drawstring bag on the ground that was overflowing with footballs. As Charles approached, he could tell that Coach Stroll was talking to someone—probably Oscar—but they were eclipsed by Coach Stroll’s imposing figure.

Charles took a deep breath, approached, and called out with as much confidence as he could muster.

“Coach? It is me, Charles Leclerc, I am here for the tryout.”

The elder Stroll turned toward Charles and clasped his hands together as Oscar took a step to the side out of the coach’s shadow.

Coach Stroll moved toward Charles, covering the gap between him and the bench. He was tall, an inch or two over six feet, and wore a light-orange checkered button down, khaki pants, sunglasses, and an orange ball cap with the school’s name and mascot across the front.

“Hey, kid! You’re a couple minutes early, but that’s perfect. This won’t take too long and then Oscar and I can head over to the main practice. You’ll join the team tomorrow afternoon, but let’s get to it, alright?”

“Uhh, yes, sure, sounds good, Coach.”

“Oscar, you worked with Charles over the weekend, right?”

Oscar smiled and nodded in reply before turning to grab the ball bag.

“Well, let’s do some short kicks with Oscar holding to start, then we’ll do some extra points, both just to see where your accuracy’s at right now. Then we’ll do some kickoffs for your power, and we’ll end with some long field goals to combine it all, ok?”

Charles nodded and turned toward the field. Oscar was already halfway out to the middle of the field, but turned, stopped, and waited for Charles to catch up to him. Coach Stroll was about twenty yards away so Oscar spoke in a whisper as Charles approached.

“I know you struggled with some of the longer kicks over the weekend, but if you can tuck in some of the closer ones and show some power on the kickoffs, then you’re a lock. I mean, you basically already are, but this’ll put a bow on it, yeah?

“We’ll do kicks from the ten, fifteen, and twenty yard lines to start. Remember that those distances are just where the ball would be when it’s snapped. Because we as kickers line up about 7 yards back, and because the endzone is about 10 yards deep, the real distances will be 27, 32, and 37, okay? You’ve already hit some forties and I told Coach Stroll about it, so you got this!”

Charles nodded and saw that one of his cleats had come untied. He knelt down to correct the error as Oscar finished getting set up.

 

What followed over the next fifteen minutes was the worst athletic performance of Charles Leclerc’s life. He hit two out of the nine “easy” kicks before the pervading silence of the football field was broken by the loud ringing of Coach Stroll’s phone.

“Yeah, Adrian, what is it?

There was a pause as the team’s head coach awaited a response from his chief assistant.

“Damn, okay, I’ll head over. Be there in a sec.

“Okay, boys, they need me over at the practice field. You’re doing great, Charles. I know you’re probably super nervous, but you two keep at it until I get back, okay?”

Charles gave a slight nod, his head trained toward the ground. Oscar replied.

“We’ll keep working, Coach!”
Coach Stroll nodded and turned toward a golf cart that was parked behind the bench.

Oscar looked over to Charles.

“Charles, come on now, what’s gotten into you? You weren’t perfect this weekend, but you did really well! Now you’re shanking these left and right. I don’t want to be mean, but it’s like you haven’t kicked anything before!”

Charles lifted his head slightly. The old familiar feeling began to bubble in his stomach. 

“I don’t know, Oscar. I… I didn’t sleep well last night. And I think that I’ve overthought this tryout, made it into something bigger than it might be. I’m just in my own head, you know.”

Oscar stood there for a moment but eventually replied, “I know we’re not super close right now, but you’re one of Max’s friends, which means that you’re one of my friends. If there’s anything going on that you want to talk about, you can talk to me. I know what it’s like to be the fish out of water, to feel like you have no one you can turn to.”

Charles’ eyes met Oscar’s. In them, Charles saw a steadfastness that he could only wish to have. After what Max said at the football game, Charles knew those eyes had to harbor pain, but he wouldn’t know it just by looking.

“How do you do it Oscar? Max told me about your mother… I am so sorry. But how are you so happy? So positive? So kind to the world around you?”

Oscar, stunned for a moment, took a half-step closer to Charles and put his hand onto Charles’ shoulder.

“It’s hard, it’s still hard… I was younger when it happened, and it took years for me to start to accept it. But life keeps going and all we can do is keep moving and try to keep their memories alive however we can.

“Have you… have you lost someone close to you, Charles?”

A lump filled his throat.

“My… a year ago today… my father died. It’s why I’m here, I had to get out of Monaco. I followed my brother all the way to Texas. And today, three hundred and sixty five days ago, is the day I lost him.”

Charles immediately pulled away and took a step back.

“No, no. I shouldn’t be putting this on you, Oscar. I shouldn’t have said that. I can… I can handle this myself. I’m sorry.”

He began to unbuckle his helmet as he turned toward the sideline.

“Tell Coach Stroll whatever you want, tell him that I left or that I quit. I don’t care. I can’t… I can’t be here right now. Thank you for trying to help me, Oscar, I’m sorry.”

Oscar stood silently as Charles continued to walk away toward the locker room. He walked around the field picking up errant footballs and putting them back into the bag as Charles disappeared into the distance.

 

— 

 

Charles could have tried to get an Uber. He could have called Lorenzo, or Jules, or… well, not him after what Oscar saw today. But instead of calling anyone, Charles decided to walk home. It was maybe three or four miles, but he didn’t want to be around anyone right now. So he set off from school and wandered. He didn’t chart a path on his phone, he didn’t write down any directions. He just walked in whatever direction his feet took him.

Charles had been walking for at least a couple of hours—and for certainly more than four miles—before he stumbled upon a church with a small graveyard attached to it. He found a bench on the edge of the graves, sat down to rest his feet, and placed his phone next to him on the bench.

I shouldn’t have done that, said those things to Oscar. He’s so young, and I wasn’t thinking. He’s Max’s brother for crying out loud.

Charles took a moment to look around the cemetery. It was small, maybe fifty headstones or so, and there wasn’t another living soul in sight.

Part of me feels selfish because it felt good to let that out, but I shouldn’t have done that.

Charles sat there for several minutes just staring around the graveyard. He thought about the lives of the people who were buried here and if there was anyone still alive today who remembered any of them. If there was anyone alive who still carried the grief of their loss with them.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. 

Someone was calling Charles. His phone was turned face down, so he couldn’t even see who was calling him. There was no one alive who he, in this moment, wanted to—could even—talk to in his present state. So, he let the call go to voicemail.

Charles turned away from his phone and back toward the graves. Oscar’s short but profound words echoed in his ears.

“All we can do is keep going…”

There’s nothing I can do that can ever bring him back. I know that. I’ve known that from the beginning. But that knowledge is not enough for me…

“...while trying to keep their memories alive.”

Charles sat with that for a moment. 

Eventually, he stood up and began walking toward the graveyard gate. As he crossed the threshold, he looked at his phone to see who the missed call was from. It was an unsaved number. He unlocked his phone and went to the unheard voicemail.

“Hey, Charles. It’s Coach. Oscar told me that you had a family emergency. I wish I could tell you this in person, but the job’s yours if you want it. I know it was a little rough out there today, but you’ve got potential, kid. We’ll make sure you get up to speed. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow, okay? No need to call back—and if you can’t make it tomorrow because of your emergency, try to text me if you can. Hope everything’s okay and looking forward to seeing you out there.”

Charles stood, facing west toward the setting sun. He was stunned. 

What did Oscar do to pull this?

Charles stared down at his phone at the transcription of the voicemail. It was real. Coach Stroll’s words shone back at him beat for beat. Below the transcription, in the nearly-empty voicemail box, something else stared back at him: a message he had wanted to listen to since the moment his eyes opened this morning.

I can’t… I shouldn’t… Not in public, not here.

Charles looked around. There was still not a living soul in sight.

He closed the voicemail from Coach Stroll and tapped the only other one in his inbox. He took a single deep breath as he placed his phone to his ear to hear his father’s voice.

“Charles, mon fils, I’m sorry that I missed you this morning. I know that the first day of lycée can be stressful, but I know that you will do so well!” 

Charles pressed his phone closer to his ear. He hadn’t heard his father’s voice in exactly a year, and he hadn’t listened to this voicemail since he got it in early September of last year. He remembered what it said, however, and knew that he had to listen, no matter what the bubbling, bottomless pit in his stomach begged him to do.

“If things get hard, remember to just slow down and breathe, okay? Maman and I are your two biggest fans in the world, and we both know that there’s nothing on this planet that you cannot do if you try your hardest and leave it all out on the pitch. You are going to do amazing things in this life, son, and I am excited to witness all that you achieve.”

Charles knew what was coming next: the only remnant of his father that he had. The only remaining vestige of the greatest man he had ever known.

“ I have to head into a work meeting, but I will see you tonight at home and you can tell me everything that happened today.”

The world slowed around Charles as the Texas sun began to set over the horizon and illuminated the sky and clouds in a brillant swath of blues, pinks, and oranges. A few drops of water began to fall on the hot asphalt beneath Charles, but there was not a rain cloud in sight.

Charles took another deep breath.

But it’s not all that remains of him, is it? That’s what Oscar meant.

“I’ll pick something up from the market on my way home, and Maman and I will cook up a nice dinner for all of us. Maybe I’ll try to grill something like the Americans do, like some… ah, what do they say? Barbeque! I must go, though, little Charlie.”

There was a pause in the voicemail. Charles took another breath.

He lives on in me. His memory, his heart. I will be the man—the person—he knew I could be. 

The voicemail concluded as Charles looked off into the sunset.

“Je t'aime, mon fils.”

Charles let his father’s last recorded words, spoken just weeks before his death, wash over him. 

He will be with me for the rest of my life.

Chapter 8: Birthdays & Battlefields (Knight of Wands reversed)

Summary:

Max's Birthday

Notes:

Hi friends!

Sorry, I know I promised some of you a last weekend update -- life got away from me and in return this update is a little longer than usual :)

This one has lots of feelings in it. Remember that boyo is human and also (in this one) a teenager. He deserves grace and the ability to learn from his mistakes.

Next chapter will be a Lando POV - get excited!

Enjoy!
-G.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP

Max’s alarm blared through the dream. The sound cut straight through the rushing wind, the smell of diesel, and the rev of an engine. He rolled over in bed and tapped his phone for ten more minutes. When the next alarm cut through the remnants of another dream, it was time to be done. He slapped at the sound, pushed off the covers sadly, and stood up from the bed wobbling slightly. Oscar was in the shower, so Max slowly got dressed and packed his bag with only one eye fully open. He tripped over shoes and knocked his knee against his desk. He swore softly and rubbed his face. It was just another day. A normal day. Nothing special. Just a fucking Tuesday. He swallowed that feeling and tried to absorb it but the normalcy didn’t last long.

He heard grumbling in the kitchen and his body froze. He hadn’t even really been moving, but at the sound he felt frozen as if attempting to hide in plain sight. Just like a deer or gazelle, there was something about not moving that made the prey seem further away from the predator. As if by standing completely still and forgetting how to breathe, they would get out unscathed, would somehow avoid the bloodshed. Avoid the danger across the forest, the savannah, the small house. But unlike the other prey, Max had nowhere to run when the first option inevitably didn’t work. The only way out of the house was through the kitchen, then down through the bar, and then out to the pickup Jos owned. There was nowhere to run but through.

Max listened carefully and took a tip-toe step toward his bedroom door, but there wasn’t another sound from the kitchen except the rustle of a newspaper. He took a deep breath.

Some days Jos left early and some days he slept in late, but rarely was he awake at the same time as Oscar and Max when they went to school. It wouldn't normally be a big deal. Max would just avoid breakfast, leave at the last second possible, and get food at school. But Max hadn’t packed any lunch, he was out of cash, and his stomach was growling. Plus, there was also the larger complication of the date.

Max slowly looked over toward the calendar above his desk and the word “birthday” written haphazardly in the corner of the box for September 30th. He swallowed hard. Any extra time spent with Jos today would only lead to the inevitable and Max wasn’t interested in spending his birthday finding ice packs in the freezer or hiding in his room. He wanted the day to go by as quickly as possible with as little contact with his father as possible. He was hoping that wasn’t too much to ask for

Maybe Oscar would give him a gift. Maybe he would grab a Redbull from the vending machine at school. Maybe Jos would forget. That was all he really hoped for the day. He had few expectations and tried very hard not to set his hopes high that his father would celebrate or even mention his birthday. Max knew better than to think Jos would go easy on him on this particular day of the year. If anything, September 30th brought its own set of complications to the elder Verstappen with the reminder of Max’s mom and the inevitable phone call and voicemail that made its way to the answering machine in the kitchen. Max had years of experience learning how best to avoid Jos today, but for some reason the elder Verstappen was putting himself directly in his path this morning. 

It boded about as well as red skies after first light. And like all sailors staring at the deep, dangerous, never ending ocean, Max would be stupid not to heed the warning.

 

When Max heard Oscar turn the water off and leave the bathroom, his body moved again on instinct. Tiptoeing feet carried him forward toward the bathroom and he brushed his teeth and washed his face. He wiped the foggy mirror and made sure his hair spiked up at the right angle. He thought of what Charles would think only once and shook the thought from his head. But still, one more touch of gel to the front of his hair just in case. 

When the clock on the counter told him he only had ten minutes left before they needed to leave, he swept out of the bathroom and practically spun around his room. He made his bed with tight corners and threw all the clothes on the floor into his laundry basket. He rearranged his desk and made sure his shoes were lined up on the rack. Then he paused for one second to look around the room, found nothing else to fault, and nodded his head.

He grabbed his bag and moved silently through the hallway and into the kitchen. Jos didn’t look up from the newspaper so Max puttered around the coffee machine and put bread in the toaster. He made a peanut butter jelly sandwich and threw it in a brown paper bag. 

The newspaper crinkled and folded quietly and Max pretended not to notice. Jos yawned loudly and Max’s eyes crossed in the direction of the toaster. Five more minutes and he was home free. Five more minutes.

The coffee machine spluttered to life and started dribbling into Max’s to-go thermos. He glared at the black device as the smell reached his nose. He hated coffee but Jos didn’t allow energy drinks in the house so this would have to do for now. Just to keep his sleep at bay until he could get something at school.

Four more minutes. 

Max could hear Oscar moving stuff in his room and a loud thud came from down the hall. Max wasn’t surprised by the sound. It was probably Oscar’s duffel bag for football practice falling from his bed—a daily occurrence.

Max tapped his finger against the counter, but stopped when the clicking of the brace against the granite reached his ears. He didn’t need to do anything to draw attention, least of all make annoying noises. 

Three more minutes. 

Just as the coffee stopped dripping into the cup, the newspaper smacked its way down on the table and Max jumped as he turned to face the man behind him. 

Jos wasn’t looking at him. “Your brother’s in the paper.” A slight pause as Jos unfolded the newspaper again. “There’s a picture of him on the front page of the sports section.” He pointed down at the table. “Would you look at that?” Max didn’t reply and didn’t move forward to look. 

Two more minutes. 

Jos hummed, “It’s a whole article about how the team is doing this season. Seems very impressive.” He drew out the word. 

The coffee machine stopped buzzing, the toaster dinged, but Max did not turn back around. He couldn't take his eyes off the storm on the horizon.

Jos stood up from the table and took a step toward him. Max braced himself against the countertop, his fingers in the brace felt clunky against the cold stone. “I want four games tonight.”

Max swallowed hard. “It’s a Tuesday.” The words came out in a whisper. 

Jos clicked his tongue, “And? I want four games tonight.” 

Max stared into the storm and the darkness overwhelmed him. He couldn’t say no. He couldn’t say anything. He had ignored the warnings of the red sky and now his bow was going to break under the weight of the wind and the rain. He should've just gone to school hungry. It was hubris to think he could get out of the house unscathed. The deer knows better. The sailor knows better. Everyone knows better. Everyone except Max.

Max swallowed but didn’t respond. Maybe Jos would let him get away with silence today. Maybe silence was the best option after reminding Jos of the day. 

They stared at each other for a beat too long and Max opened his mouth to respond—he didn’t know what was going to come out but he had to say something.

“Well?” Jos tapped his foot. 

“I–”

“It’s not like you have anything else going on today. Right?”

“…right.” Max barely moved his mouth to agree. “Okay.” 

“If your moth—”

Oscar’s door opened suddenly and he walked quietly out into the kitchen, hair still damp from the shower. Max turned to look at him. Oscar noticed the two of them standing at odds in the alley between the island and the adjacent countertop and his eyes widened. Then he noticed the newspaper on the kitchen table and he grimaced. 

“Good morning.” Oscar mumbled as he put stuff down on top of the newspaper. 

“Good morning.” Jos replied without taking his eyes off Max. He didn’t like being interrupted, but since it was Oscar it would probably slide. 

Oscar dropped his bag on the table and walked over to the fridge. “We should go in a minute, Max.” 

Jos turned, Max forgotten, and raised an eyebrow at him. “ You want to get to school early? What’s the rush?”

“Oh, I have a study group this morning for my chemistry class.” He pulled a packed lunch out of the fridge and moved back to the table.

“You—” Max tried to interject but Jos cut him off.

“—Hmph,” he crossed his arms, “fine, but both of you need to come home directly after school today. I need help in the bar before opening.”

Oscar looked between Jos and Max and noted their proximity with a raised eyebrow. He seemed to come to some kind of conclusion because instead of reminding Jos that he had practice tonight, he just shrugged and said “Okay, Dad.” Then turned to grab his backpack. “Ready, Max?”

Max nodded slowly and grabbed his toast from the toaster. Before he could snag the coffee Jos reached around him to take the mug. “I’ll see you both at 3:30 sharp.” 

Max nodded again and then quickly moved away from his father and followed Oscar down the stairs and out the door towards the parking lot.

As he was turning the key in the truck’s ignition a moment later, he shook his head at Oscar, “You don’t take chemistry. That class is only for juniors and seniors.”

Oscar laughed, “Yeah, but Jos doesn’t know that.” 

Max closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, “You can’t just do that. One of these days he’s gonna catch you in a lie and it’s not going to be worth it.” 

“Better me than you. And my lies are stupid. Even if he does figure it out, it’s not like they’re a big deal. Instead of a chem study group, we’re hanging out with our friends outside the gym to celebrate your birthday. Which by the way is today.” Oscar pulled out a wrapped present from his backpack and shook it aggressively. “I wonder if I got you a puppy.” 

Max laughed and shook his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Oscar smiled, “Yeah, but I’m also hilarious.” 

“Promise me you won’t do that again.”

Oscar shook the present again, “Man, if it’s a puppy, I definitely forgot air holes.” 

Max laughed and pulled out onto the road toward Abilene.

–

Charles was waiting for them with Lando and Lance outside the gym when Max parked the truck. “Did you tell Charles it was my birthday?” 

“Of course. You only have like three friends.” 

“Lando is your friend, Oscar.” 

“Well yeah but he’s just here to hang out with me.” 

Max rolled his eyes. “You didn’t need to tell him it was my birthday.”

“Well everyone else knows so then he would be the only person who didn’t know. That would be weirder, wouldn’t it?”

Max just sighed and got out. The gravel crunched under his boots as he walked up the slightly sloped path toward the gym.

“Ah, there he is! The birthday boy!” Lance called with a wide grin.

Charles and Lando turned to look down at them. 

Lando fumbled with something quickly in his hands and then a sound like a goose honking came from near his mouth as a blue party kazoo unfurled. 

Lance laughed loudly and held his stomach and Charles put another one to his mouth and blew it softly. Max saw those bright green eyes crinkle with mirth as the sound duplicated Lando’s and he couldn’t help but smile in return. 

“Happy birthday!” Lando yelled and ran forward to hug Max. 

Max caught him and let the younger boy hug him with a laugh. “Thanks, Lando.”

“Shall we sing?” Charles suggested softly. 

“No, no, please don’t.” Max shook his head, let go of Lando, and looked around. There were a few students milling around outside but most of them had made their way into the building in preparation for the first bell. 

“He’s practically an adult.” Oscar shook his head. “What are we going to do next year when he can vote and shit?”

“Probably run for the hills. Oh, and ask him to buy us cigs.” Lando held up finger guns at Max. 

“Gross.” Oscar rolled his eyes. “You don’t even smoke, Lando.”

“I could start. Max’s birthday is as good a reason as any other.” 

Charles stepped closer to Max and batted his eyes in a way Max could only describe as bashful while the three other boys talked about buying cigarettes.

Max swallowed and grew hot suddenly. He could feel a blush spread over his cheeks and even though Charles’ mouth was open and he was obviously speaking, Max didn’t hear anything. He could only look into those emerald eyes and wonder whether the sun was changing their color or if they were always this bright.

Charles snapped his fingers in front of Max’s face.

“Max? Max?”

“Oh, sorry.” Max stumbled back a step.

“Did you hear what I said?” Charles laughed.

“No, sorry.” He ducked his head and put a hand on the back of his neck. 

“I said it’s so funny how our birthdays are so close together. Mine is on October 16th which is just two weeks away.”

“Your birthday? It’s two weeks after mine?”

“Yes.” Charles looked at him with a laugh and a little worry, “Are you okay? You seem flushed?” Charles reached a hand out and felt Max’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “You’re a little warm.”

Max would be lying if he said he didn’t lean into the touch for just a fraction of a second. “No, no I’m fine.” He took a step back and Charles slowly lowered his hand. “Just excited for today and a little tired. I haven’t had any caffeine yet.” 

“Oh,” Charles smiled, “Well let me hopefully be the first to give you a birthday present.” Charles reached down into his backpack and came back with an original flavor Red Bull and a dragon fruit Red Bull. “I swear this tastes like battery acid and I would never consume more than one sip ever again, but I know you seem to enjoy them. So… happy birthday.” He thrust the drinks in front of Max who stood shocked for a moment before slowly reaching out and taking the cans. 

He quirked his mouth left and then right as he tried not to smile with his whole face. Then he looked back up at Charles with a slight adoration behind his usual cloudy eyes, “Thanks, Charlie. This is… perfect. It’s like all I wanted.” 

He leaned forward and pulled Charles in for a hug. 

Oscar made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a choke. 

Max quickly ended the hug and stepped back. He locked eyes with Oscar and then looked away quickly. It was rare for him to initiate contact with anyone and Oscar knew it. 

The first bell rang—saving him from any awkward exchange with the rest of the boys. 

“Shit,” Lance said, “There’s no way I can make it to class on time with this fucking thing.” He pointed to the cast and started toward the door, “See ya guys at lunch.” He hobbled awkwardly away on his crutches 

“When does he get that thing off?” Lando asked.

Oscar hummed, “I don’t know. They think the surgery is coming up in a couple weeks. There was some weird delay that Coach was upset about but Lance hasn’t talked about it much.”

“Huh.” Lando replied. “Well we should go or Hamilon will kick our asses to detention.”

“Yeah, facts.” He turned to Max, “See ya later.”

Max and Charles waved as Oscar and Lando walked off toward the front entrance. 

Charles picked up his backpack, “Want to do study hall in the library today? I need to do some work for Civics and may need to ask you some questions about American history.”

Max nodded. “Sure, sure. I have some Chem problems I still need to do for today and I need to study for the practice test tomorrow.” 

They bumped into each other immediately as they started down the sidewalk toward the gym entrance. Charles laughed and gestured forward, “Age before beauty.” 

Max scoffed, “You’ve been dying to use that one.”

Charles laughed lightly and his eyes crinkled, “Maybe so… maybe so, but it is true, no?”

Max rolled his eyes and bumped back into him before taking the position in front of him and leading the way toward the doors. “Whatever you say, beauty.”

He didn’t need to turn around to know Charles was blushing. 

–

Max pulled into the Lucky Lion parking lot just as the sky grew dark with clouds.

Oscar looked up as they got out of the truck, “Looks like it’s gonna rain.” 

“Yeah I think there was supposed to be a crazy thunderstorm or something tonight.”

“Hmm, seems fitting for your birthday.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Max held the door open for Oscar and they made their way through the dark hallway. When they got into the bar, Daniel was wiping down a table in the back. 

“Hey, buckos! What’s crackalackin’?”

“Max is officially almost an adult.” Oscar said as he threw his backpack down behind the bar and picked up a dish towel to wipe down the high tops. 

Max rolled his eyes, “I’m not officially anything. I’m just seventeen.” 

“Ahh yes, the big birthday extravaganza I’ve been hearing about. You throwing a party? A rave even? Gonna go all out and invite the entire town? Now that sounds like the makings of a seventeen-year-old birthday party.”

Max set his backpack down and looked around for something to do. He noticed the dishwasher steaming and moved to unload the clean glasses and silverware. “Not this year, Danny, but next year maybe I’ll let you throw me a party. It could be a big going away event.” Max chuckled softly to himself but when he looked up both Daniel and Oscar were just watching him. “What?”

“Nothing. Nothing.” Daniel said and went back to cleaning. 

Oscar wasn’t as subtle. “You’re leaving next year?”

Max nodded slowly as he racked the glasses. “Yeah, of course I am. Once I’m eighteen I can take you and get outta dodge. Why would I stay?”

Oscar was quiet for a moment. “What if I don’t want to leave? I’m doing well here. What if I don’t want to leave but I don’t want you to leave either?” He paused and rubbed at a stain on the glossy surface. “Where would you even go?”

Max paused in his stacking of silverware. “I don’t know. I’d probably go try to live with my mom for a bit and see Victoria.” Oscar stopped wiping. They didn’t talk about Max’s mom that often. It was a sore subject for both of them and it could also be a dangerous subject if Jos was in earshot. 

Jos refused to mention Sophie and wouldn’t answer her calls on the few days a year she wanted to talk to Max. It never ended well when one of her voicemails was left on the receiver to be found later, so Max tried to be aware of the days that a phone call was coming and intercept it at just the right time. She always called after school got out and before dinner. So between 3:30 and 6:00. As long as he could keep Jos distracted, he could steal a few minutes to talk to her without getting caught. 

Jos pushed the door to the stairs open and stalked into the space. His eyes snapped to Max first who suddenly found the dishwasher very interesting, then to Daniel who moved to rerack balls at a further table, and finally on Oscar who started wiping down the tables again. 

“Didn’t you have practice today? 

Oscar shrugged, “You told me to come home, so I told Coach I needed a day to rest my foot.” He didn’t even look up. Max could tell the nonchalance was forced, but Jos didn’t seem to notice or care. Oscar wasn’t his concern this time of year.

“Huh. Fair enough. Just don’t let me catch you down here after the bar opens.”

“Yes, Sir.” Oscar moved onto the next table. 

Jos turned to look at his son next. Max was quickly placing dishes back where they came from and trying to be as gentle with the glass as possible. There was barely a sound of clinking plates or the clicking of the dishwasher trays as they rolled in and out. He had mastered the art of silence after the first few times Jos had harped over noises and he tried to move inside a silent bubble as often as possible. He knew which steps and floorboards in their home creaked, which hinges needed to be WD40ed every couple of months, and sometimes he could even find the perfect shadow to hide in when he didn’t want people to notice him in the bar. With a quick step and a forgettable face, Max could move through crowds without being noticed or remembered. Of course, all these talents never did him any good. They just added to the hyper vigilance of trying (and failing) to stay safe from the monster lurking in the shadows with him.

Jos’ eyes raked over Max and the stare shook his confidence in being able to do the simple task of moving dishes from the dishwashers. Max’s hands shook and he grabbed a rag to have something to clench tightly in his fist as he pretended to dry a sparkling glass.

Finally Jos spoke, but it wasn’t to him. “Ricciardo, why is Max behind the bar?” He turned, raising his voice. Danny looked over and stopped setting up the pool tables.

“He’s just putting stuff away. Not really a twenty-one plus activity.”

“So if the Sheriff walks in off the street and sees a minor behind the bar, I’m just supposed to explain to him that ‘not everything is what it looks like, Officer?’” Jos mocked Daniel’s accent and Max winced. Oscar seemed content to wash tables and moved further into the room as he cleaned. 

“No, I didn’t say that. I just meant that it’s only 3:55, we open in five minutes, and no one is here but the four of us so I don’t see a problem with him being back there.”

“Oh, you don’t see a problem with it? If I let everyone do whatever they wanted just because you didn’t have a problem with it, I wouldn’t be running a very successful business, would I?”

Daniel rolled his eyes, “Nope. Guess not.”

“Great, glad we agreed. So what do you say?” Jos crossed his arms and waited. 

Danny sighed and then put on a sarcastic smile as he over-enunciated every word, “Hey, Max! Don’t worry about the dishes! I’ll do that! Can you re rack the balls please?” Daniel fluttered his lashes and then dropped his smile as he walked over and tried to trade places with the younger boy but Jos stepped between them. “Whatever the fuck that was, I never want to see it again. Got it?”

Daniel rolled his eyes again, “Man, what do you want?” He pointed at Max. “He’s seventeen, he can put fucking dishes away.”

“Danny, it’s fine.” Max said and moved to step out from behind the bar. 

Jos put up his arm barring Max from moving forward. 

“When he breaks rules I want you to yell at him. He knows better.” Jos turned to glare at him. “Don’t you?” 

Max nodded.
“Being seventeen doesn’t mean shit if you’re not gonna follow the rules. You’re not an adult, Max, I don't care what number you throw around. If you act like a kid, people will treat you like a kid.” 

Max could feel Danny rolling his eyes, but he just stared at Jos’s stormy eyes and nodded slowly. 

“Well then get the fuck away from the bar.” Jos moved his arm and gestured toward the pool tables, “And rack a set to practice. Let’s open.” He slammed his hand down on the bar and the sound echoed in Max’s ears as he grabbed a random pool cue and moved toward a table as far from the bar as possible. As he lined up to break, he heard the door to the stairs open and shut and knew Oscar was making himself scarce for the night. 

Good. The further he was from here the better. 

Max let out a deep breath and pulled the stick back as Danny unlocked the door. 

–

Two games later, Max was up $2500 and sure that he had missed the phone call from his mother. Jos was knocking back beers and smoking cigars from his usual table and Max couldn’t find a moment to step away with the watchful eyes following him after every round and during every practice. When Jos and the second guy were talking money, Max stepped quickly over to the bar and waved to get Daniel’s attention.

“Can you distract him for just a couple minutes, please?” Max pleaded. 

“Why? What’re you up to?” Danny had mischief in his eyes. 

“I need to check the answering machine upstairs.”

Danny nodded knowingly and threw a towel over his right shoulder. He steadied himself and wiggled his upper body as if he could stand taller. “Yo, Mr. V!” Daniel called as Max snuck to the door and slowly opened it. “One of the kegs won’t tap, can I get a hand?”

As Max started up the stairs to the apartment he heard Jos yell, “Are you fucking stupid, Ricciardo? How many people does it take to tap a keg?”

When Max got into the kitchen he noticed a message on the answering machine. He pressed play and only got a quick second of the phone saying “Hi Max, it’s me m–” before the message cut out. Someone—probably Jos—must have picked up the phone to talk to her and it cut the message off. 

Max grabbed the handheld landline in the kitchen and moved quickly to the living room. He dialed the star key and then 6-9 and put the phone up to his ear to listen to the even tone. On the third ring a woman’s voice answered, “Hallo?”

“Mama?”

“Max!”

“Mama!”

“Ah, your father said you were gone all day today and didn’t want to speak to me. I was so worried… Are you upset with me?”

Max felt his eyes well up with tears, “No, no, never. I… I was busy earlier and he must have thought… I don’t know… I’m never too busy for you.” 

She laughed softly, “Oh, Max Emilian, it is so nice to hear your voice. How long has it been? A couple months? More? I think you called in May?”

“Yes, for Mother’s Day.”

“Yes, I remember now. And before that it was for mine and Victoria’s birthdays in October, right?”

“Yes, Mama.” 

“Oh you are getting so much older, you call so much less than you used to. But I suppose you are a busy teenage boy. My goodness and only one more year to go before you will be eighteen. I can’t believe my baby is seventeen!” She laughed wistfully. “It feels like just yesterday I was bringing you home from the hospital.” She sighed. “You were so cute. So tiny. You were always going to be great of course but when you were born you were so small, we didn’t know how you’d manage it.” She laughs again lost in memories and Max joins in as a tear falls gently down his right cheek. “I will make myself feel old if I think of how small you used to be. And now you and your father are practically the same height Christian says. Goodness.”

“I miss you, Mama.”

“Oh, darling, I miss you too. You should come visit Victoria and I. I know she would love to see you and it’s only a short plane ride away.” 

“Is she home?”

Sophie hummed sadly, “No, baby, I’m sorry. She’s at cheer practice right now, but maybe if you call again later this week? I know she’ll be sad she missed your call. Do you have a cell phone yet? I know your father didn’t want you to have one so you wouldn’t be distracted from your school work but it would be so much easier to talk to you if you didn’t have to use the silly landline he keeps in the house.” 

Max stared down at the cellphone sitting squarely in the middle of the table. “No,” the lie dripped like honey off his lips, “I don’t have one yet. Maybe next year.”

“Ah, he is so serious. I should just buy one for you but I know he wouldn’t give it to you, he would just send it back to me.” She hummed thoughtfully, “I hope you are having fun there, though. You are young. It is supposed to be fun when you are young and not all business. Tell me you are having fun? Not that there is much to do in that town for fun.” 

Max closed his eyes and curled his fingers tightly in the hem of his cotton t-shirt. “I’m having fun, Mama, I promise. There…” Max took a deep breath, “There is a new boy in my class this year from Monaco. His name is Charles. He is a new friend.” Max let the air from his lungs. He finally got to say that out loud and tell someone who he knew would always love him unconditionally. 

Max could hear the smile on his mother’s face from the sound she made, “Ah, Max, that is wonderful. Is he nice? Does he speak French? Have you introduced him to the other boys? What does Oscar think of him?” 

“Oscar likes him. I’ve introduced him to all of our friends. I think you would really like him, Mama. He is nice and he is kind and he is very smart. I think he speaks French. I don’t know. I don’t speak French very well anymore.”

“Ah, I can hear you like him very much! This is unlike you, darling, to have such a fast friend. He must really be something special, yes?”

Was Charles something special? Max seemed to think so, but he didn’t quite know what that meant yet and wasn’t really ready to admit that out loud. “He is just… Charles, Mom. But…” Max paused, he needed to be careful in this next part, “but don’t tell Papa, okay? He… he… well…” Max didn’t know how to explain.

His mother’s voice changed immediately from loving to worrying, “Is everything okay, Max? Your father, he isn’t… he can be so serious. Are you well? Is he being kind to you?” 

Max knew immediately he had messed up. He wasn’t trying to imply what she was thinking, but before Max knew this version of his father, his mother was intimately aware of her ex-husband’s proclivity to violence. Max didn’t want to bring her back into his orbit—even to save himself. She had been through so much already. Her and Victoria were states away for a reason—restraining orders can only do so much when the police are on your payroll.

“No, no, Mama, I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’m fine.” Max’s finger brace tapped against the countertop and the melodic sound soothed his nervous energy. “He is just strict about my friends is all and Charles is so… European.” Max didn’t know how to say anything else but a geographic descriptor didn’t really do Charles justice. 

“Ah. Yes. Strict. That is a good word for it. But… you are safe, schatje ? He hasn’t…. He isn’t…” Max and her both struggled with what exactly they wanted to say about Jos and so both of them effectively said nothing.

“Yes, Mama. I promise. I am safe.” 

It wasn’t that they were hiding exactly, but Max knew once he spoke words into existence about living with Jos that she would have to do something about it and he couldn't have that. It was safer this way. For her. And Max would do anything to keep her far away from him. His touch poisoned everything and she had sacrificed so much already. She had sacrificed…

Max was suddenly pulled deep into a memory that was more feeling than anything else. The feeling of clinging to Victoria when she was small and trying to quiet her crying as glass flew and crashed in the kitchen and his parents screamed at each other. He shook his head quickly and listened to his mother again. He didn’t have time for those memories. They usually stayed locked in the vault.

“...Good. Good. Because you know I worry. But every once in a while I hear from Christian that you are doing well or see that Oscar is in the paper so I am normally content even if you and I don’t really discuss it.” 

Max grimaced. He tried to forget that the Sheriff and his mother were old friends from their glory days, but she often brought it up in these calls that people in town were looking out for him and updated her on his adventures. Christian was one thing. Max could easily keep out of sight of the Sheriff. Sebastian… Sebastian was another thing altogether.

“Max!” Yelled a voice from the bottom of the stairs. “Get your ass down here!”

“Mama, I have to go.”

“Oh, baby, already? We just started talking. I haven’t even heard about school yet. Are your classes going okay?”

“Yeah, they are. I’m in three AP courses and so far they aren’t too difficult. I’ve also been helping Oscar with his work so he can keep his grades up and apply for college. My grades will be good this semester.”

“Oh good. And you, darling? Are you looking at colleges? You would be the first person in the family to go. That would be something.” 

“I—”

“Max! Don’t make me come up there!”

“I don’t know, Mama. But I really have to go now. Papa is calling for me.”

“Ah, your father. Yes, yes. I see. Well I love you, little one. Try to have some fun every now and again please. Oh and call me, baby, please! I miss you. Victoria misses you. We are not too far. I will pay for you to visit if you are ever free for a week or two.”

“I love you too, Mama. I will try to call more, I promise. Bye.” 

He heard heavy steps on the stairs. 

“Bye, darling.” 

The phone cut to the dial tone and Max moved swiftly to place the landline back in its holder in the kitchen and grab his pool cue off the kitchen table. He opened the door just as Jos moved through it. His father took a deep breath after the flight of stairs and huffed out air through his nose, “I yelled for you.” 

“Sorry. I couldn’t find it.” He gestured at the stick.

“You couldn’t find it?” His father looked skeptical. “Didn’t you just have it?”

“No, I wanted the new one, but I’m all set now, so… I’ll go practice.” Max raced by him and down the stairs, almost tripping on the last two as he quickly shut the second door behind him without waiting to see if he was followed. That would grant him a couple seconds or maybe even minutes depending on Jos’ mood. Usually Max would never run away but since he was running down to the bar to play pool, it wasn’t like he could go very far. 

Daniel smiled at him as he sped past the bar and over to a table no one was using. 

“You’re welcome.” The Aussie called out.

“I owe you.” Max threw back. 

“Yeah, you do. He tapped it wrong so now there’s just a shit ton of foam.” Daniel laughed.

Max rolled his eyes, “Next time have a better excuse. This one made you look dumb.”

Daniel held up both middle fingers and then turned immediately in the same breath to ask a blonde girl if she wanted a foamy beer. 

Max sighed—business as usual. 

–

After another game, Jos went into his office to talk to the woman Max played for $5000. An hour long game with a lot of one-sided smack talk that set Max’s teeth on edge, but now it was over and he had a few moments to himself.

Max set his stick down, stretched his neck and arms, and then moseyed over to his usual seat at the bar. 

“One of your best, kind sir.”

Daniel poured half a sprite and half a Red Bull into a glass and slid it over to him. “Your drink, my liege.” 

Max held it up, “Cheers to seventeen years of fucking up and one more to go.” 

Daniel grimaced but ducked his head so Max wouldn’t see. 

Both of them turned as the door to the stairs creaked open and Oscar tried to slip out unnoticed. 

“Ah the little man has appeared.” Daniel swung a towel over his left shoulder, “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

Oscar stared like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His eyes grew abnormally wide on his usually calm face. “Shit.” he whispered. 

Max laughed, “Did you think no one would notice you?” 

Oscar shrugged as his face went blank again, “I don’t know. I just thought you’d be playing and everyone would be too distracted to notice.” 

Max raised an eyebrow, “Too distracted to notice what?”

Oscar looked at Danny and then back at Max and then back at Danny, “I was just gonna go to Lando’s for a bit.”

Max looked sharply at the clock. “It’s 10 pm, Oscar.”

“I know that.” 

“You’re gonna go to Lando’s at 10 pm on a school night? When were you gonna come home?”

Oscar worked his jaw and stuck his hands in his pockets. He rocked forward onto his toes and then back onto his heels, “I don’t know… later… Maybe… tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Max raised his voice.

“Shhh.” Danny gestured for Max to lower his voice and looked around the bar to see if anyone was peering toward the two underage boys. Max looked around and noticed a couple of the regulars nodding their heads toward Oscar and gesturing about football. 

“You need to go back upstairs, Oscar.” 

Oscar took a step away from the door to the apartment and toward the exit of the bar. “No. Mr. Vettel is already coming to pick me up.” 

“Lando’s dad is coming here?”

“Yeah. You know Lando can’t drive yet.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Oscar?” Max got down off the bar stool and walked closer to the younger boy. “You thought it would be a good idea for Seb to come here today of all days?” Max’s voice was tinged with frustration but underneath there was a very clear warning. 

Oscar either purposefully or thoughtlessly ignored it. “What does your fucking birthday have to do with me hanging out with Lando?”

Daniel watched the volley between the two boys but said nothing. 

“My birthday? My birthday! Oscar, you’ve got to be kidding me. Are you really that stupid or are you just blind?”

Oscar’s eyes grew wide again and for a brief moment Max could see the hurt in them, but then just as quickly they hardened and Oscar lashed out. “Fuck you, Max. Not everything is about you.” He shoulder checked the older boy and made his way out from behind the bar and towards the exit of the bar. 

Max turned and ran after him. He grabbed his shoulder and spun him so they were facing each other. “I said no, you can’t go. Go back upstairs. Stop being an idiot.” 

“You not my fucking dad.” 

“Yeah, and neither is Jos.” 

Oscar’s teeth clacked together and he glared at Max. “Oh, is that what this is about?” Oscar shook his head. “I knew there was something going on with the way you’ve been acting. You’re just jealous about the football game.”

“I am not jealous! You’re just too stupid to understand what’s going on.” Max scoffed. “That or you’re blind!”

“I’m not stupid and I’m not blind. Stop saying that! You’re just mad that he likes me better than you! Once again, Max, not everything is about you ! Can’t you just let me have this?”

Max could feel the anger coursing through his body and threatening to spill out through his locked lips. What the fuck was wrong with Oscar? If Jos saw Seb here… Max didn’t even want to think about it. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. Oscar needed to listen. 

Danny, who had followed them closer to the door, finally said, “Hey guys, maybe we should do this somewhere else. People are staring.” 

“Let them stare.” Oscar said suddenly, deadly calm. “He loves the attention. Maybe some of these fools will play him in pool next and he can show Dad just how much better he is than everyone else. How much better he is than me?” Oscar laughed meanly, “That’s what you want, right? For Dad to be just as happy about your stupid games of pool as he is at my football games?”

“ Stop calling him that.”

“What? Dad? He literally adopted me, Max. That’s what you call people who adopt you.” 

“He’s not your dad! You’re nothing like him. You’re nothing like either of us.” Max pointed to his chest and then gestured toward Jos’ office. 

Danny looked over following Max’s hand and his eyes widened, “Max…”

Oscar rolled his eyes, “Great. Yeah. This is how we’re gonna play this. You get to have everything. You want Jos to be only your dad. Fine. He’s all yours, Max. I don’t have parents because they’re literally dead, but yeah take this one away from me too.” 

“He’s not your fucking dad, he’s a fucking asshole and you’re gonna leave me alone with him on my birthday because you’re a selfish child who can’t think about anyone else!”

“ I’m the selfish child? I’m the selfish child? I’m not the one fighting over calling someone dad right now? Don’t you think you’re one to talk about being selfish today?”

“It’s my fucking birthday, Oscar. If anyone gets to be selfish, it’s me.”

“Max…” Danny said again. 

“Shut up, Danny!” Max said sharply. “Oscar’s just being a little bitch. He didn’t get to see his little friends enough at school today so now he gets to sneak out because he’s selfish.” Max pokes Oscar in the chest. “And stupid.” Another poke, “And blind!” Max shoved Oscar’s shoulder. “And he gets to ruin my fucking birthday just like he’s done every year since he fucking came to live with us!” Max slices the words directly into Oscar’s face. 

The younger boy holds his jaw steady and swallows tightly without backing away from the fight. He looks like he’s gonna respond but then his eyes widen. 

Heavy hands grabbed Max’s shoulders and spun him around so Oscar and him were standing shoulder to shoulder. 

“What did you just say?” Jos’ snarling face was suddenly inches from Max’s.

“Shit.” Max clamped a hand over his mouth.

Jos backed up a step and stood tall over both of them. His shadow seemed to dim the lights in the room. 

When he speaks it sends chills through Max’s spine.

“Say you’re sorry, Max Emilian.”

Max stared at him, his jaw set. Alarm bells in his head were screaming at him to apologize to Oscar, to humble himself and take the humiliation Jos wanted to dole out; but his chest was full to the brim of anger and jealousy. Everything that Max did warranted correction. Everything screamed for punishment. But Oscar? Oscar hung the fucking moon. Oscar could win or lose and Jos would smile. Oscar walked himself and Max into this situation and only Max would suffer the consequences. Max couldn’t apologize for that. He wouldn’t. 

It didn’t matter how much it was going to hurt.

“ Say it .” Jos spit out.

“No.” Max’s voice was firm.

The slap landed heavy across his cheek and he recoiled from the impact. He heard a sound involuntarily leave Oscar’s lip somewhere between a gasp and a choke. It was a fitting reminder of earlier in the day when things were going well. 

When Max looked back up, Jos’ eyes were steel. Max didn’t bother looking at Oscar—the younger boy had wanted this. Had practically asked Jos for whatever was about to happen. It was Oscar’s fault Max was about to be knocked down a peg back to where he belonged. It was Oscar’s fault that the leash was being pulled tight across Max’s throat. And it would be Oscar’s fault when the noose eventually left Max unable to bear the brunt of Jos’ rage. Then Oscar would see what it looked it to really call Jos dad . Then Oscar would understand. Good luck doing this without me , Max wanted to scream.

Jos pointed at Oscar, “You! Go back upstairs and stay there! We’ll discuss your behavior later.” He grabbed Max’s arm, “You! Come with me. It’s high time someone taught you some fucking manners.”

Jos tugged him through the room, down the dark hallway, and out the back door of the bar. The rain came down in sheets and soaked the back dirk parking lot. Puddles filled the array of potholes and rivulets ran down the length of the lot trying in earnest to push water toward the storm drain on the other side of the building. Jos pushed Max forward sharply and sent him stumbling to the wet earth. Rocks and loose gravel pressed sharply into his hands as he hit the ground and his jeans soaked through with water where his knees genuflected towards the earth. He twisted around, expecting Jos to be behind him ready to strike, but his father waited in the doorway. “Maybe a few hours in the rain will fix your attitude. You’re not allowed back inside until the bar closes. When that happens, you will apologize.” Jos shook his head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but don’t think I won’t beat it out of you if it becomes a regular occurance.” Jos paused and looked up at the rain. When he looked back down there was nothing left in his eyes but disgust, “If I catch you under the awning with Kimi, I’ll make you sleep outside. End of discussion.” The red metal door slammed shut and Max shuddered in a breath. 

He was still crouched low to the ground, knees digging into the earth. His hands began to sink into the mud beneath him as water rushed by from the flash flood. He stood up slowly and looked up towards the sky and the single light illuminating the back lot as the rain pelted his face and soaked through his thin black t-shirt. Water drenched his hair and rained down his face like tears. 

There was nothing for him to learn out here in the elements. This was punishment for punishment’s sake. His anger wouldn’t fizzle, it wouldn’t be smothered. It would grow like a weed out here in the rain. It would fester. 

He took one deep breath and choked on everything he was feeling in his body. Rage at his father’s indifference. Sadness at yet another birthday where he wasn’t allowed to see his mother. And finally…regret. 

Regret for everything he said and thought about Oscar. 

None of this was Oscar’s fault.

None of it. 

But fear had a funny way of making people angry, and Max was no exception.

He tried another breath and it stuttered on his lips. His body bent forward involuntarily and dry heaved. Once, twice, a third time. Maybe he could throw up all of these feelings that didn’t belong to him. All the rage that looked just like Jos when Max saw it in the light.

But there was nothing in his stomach to throw up —he hadn’t eaten since lunch. 

He fell back to his knees and his hands squelched in the mud as he bent his head to the ground. His forehead touched the water and as he brought it back up and water sprayed everywhere he felt baptized in the new feeling of relief. 

This anger didn’t belong to him. 

It wasn’t about Oscar. 

It was always about Jos. 

Fucking Jos.

 

When he could finally breathe and he stood up his eyes focused on his feet and he choked out half a laugh. He was still wearing his boots. His feet wouldn’t get soaked. Of all the tiny miracles, this one made him giggle and then chuckle and then a laugh ripped through him until he was sure the whole world was laughing with him and this was all some big fucked up joke. 

His seventeenth birthday spent outside soaked to the bone because his father didn’t want a son, he wanted a dog or a trick pony—something easily beaten into submission, something easily broken, an empty vessel to mold entirely to his will—not a son with a wit and a mind and a fucking attitude towards a man who refused him even the smallest crumb of happiness on a day supposed to be all about him. Not even a speck of light in the darkness. Not even the glimmer of hope. Jos had taken everything from him and yet he was supposed to beg forgiveness and pretend he was grateful for playing second fiddle. 

It wasn’t Oscar’s fault, no, but Oscar needed to help him or Max wouldn’t be able to go on. 

There was too much at stake for Oscar to keep pretending to not know anything. 

Better yet, there was too much at stake for Max to keep pretending that Oscar wasn’t asking and asking and asking to be let in. 

Max sighed and noticed some of the rain on his face was warm. 

It was only fitting that he cry on his birthday. 

It was practically a ritual year after year.

But at least he was wearing boots.

 

–

 

A car pulled up slowly into the spot in front of the picnic table where Max was sitting around the right side of the bar. The lights blinded him for a second as the spotlight shone directly on him, but then it went dark again as they were switched off. Max saw spots in his vision where the bright beams battered his eyes and he blinked a few times to get the rain and darkness out of his vision. The window rolled down on the driver’s side door of the still running car and a man’s voice called out, “Is that you, Max?”

Seb?

Max looked at the car and again the same voice said, “Max? Are you okay?” Max stood up from his spot on top of the picnic table and moved slowly toward the car. He saw in the faint lights from the parking lot that it was Sebastian Vettle. The man waved his arm, “Get in the car, kid. What are you doing in the rain, anyway? You’re going to catch your death out here. What would your mother say?” There was a smile in his tone but worry in his eyes.

Max stared at him for a moment and didn’t move, the rain continued to beat down around them and Seb’s windshield wipers were on a fast setting. Max looked toward the entranceway and saw Kimi nod once as his eyes roved between the parking lot and Max. 

Max knew that if Jos called out for him, Kimi would make sure it was handled. He moved slowly toward the passenger side door, jeans and shirt sticking to his skin. He had long ago lost feeling in his fingers and toes and he walked straight through the puddles. His boots were full of water anyway. No need to pretend as he let the rain wash over him. 

When he opened the passenger door of the car, he looked at Sebastian for a minute. “I’m gonna get your seats all wet.” He said as rain snuck in through the crack in the door. 

The man laughed outright at him, “Get in the car, Max.”

Max shut the door behind him and Sebastian rolled up the window on his side and cranked the heat. Max quickly put his numb fingers against the blasting air and felt pain at the tips of the appendages. He winced as feeling slowly returned back to his body and noticed Sebastian looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Max’s teeth began to chatter at the sudden change in temperature and Seb moved suddenly causing Max to flinch away out of instinct. The prey doesn’t know which predator will strike, only that there will be pain.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, bud, I just wanna get you a blanket.” Seb reached into the backseat and pulled out a gray blanket which he handed to Max. 

Max looked sheepishly at the blanket, suddenly embarrassed by his reaction. “Sorry.” 

“You don’t need to apologize, kid. . .” Max pulled the blanket around him and hugged his knees to his chest. He pulled his boots off and left them on the floor, puddles forming on the rubber mats as Max’s socks left wet imprints against the black leather of the seats. 

“Why are you outside? Why is Kimi calling me to come get you on your birthday? What’s going on?” Seb looked at him with worry written all across his face but Max shook his head

“He sh-shouldn’t have called you.” Max’s teeth clacked together. “He knows better than that. D-Dad… J-Jos… He… it’s complicated.” Seb reached over and rubbed Max’s arms to try and help him retain heat.

“Make it simple for me.” He whispered as he moved to turn all the vents in the car toward Max.

“I said some mean…awful, awful things to Oscar when you were coming to pick him up earlier and I didn’t mean them or I thought I meant them… I don’t know. It just… it just came out and Dad… he heard everything so he kicked me out.”

“He kicked you out?” Sebastian gently prodded

“He sent me outside to cool off.”

“He sent you outside during a monsoon to cool off?”

Max nodded slowly. 

“How long did he tell you you had to stay outside?”

“Until the bar closed.” Max whispered and hugged the blanket tightly around his stomach. 

Seb looked at the clock on the dashboard, “You still have an hour, Max. It’s a school night. You shouldn’t even be awake this late on a school night.”

“I'm seventeen, Seb. I can stay up until 1 AM.”

“Ah yeah,” Seb’s face pulled taut, “Happy Birthday, kid,” He said wryly. 

“Thanks,” Max said, nuzzling the blanket. His feet and fingers hurt and he was suddenly very tired. He just wanted to sleep.

“I can take you back to my place, Max.” 

Max sighed, “I know you worry, Seb, and I’m sure my mom called you today too, but it’s fine. I’m fine. Mom shouldn’t have called you, Kimi shouldn’t have called you. If he…. if he sees you here…”

“He won’t.” Seb said firmly.

Max shook his head. “I can’t go home with you. He’d…” Max shook his head harder. “She called me today.” He said suddenly, 

“I know.” Sebastian ignored the first part of the response. “She called me too.”

“Of course.” 

“She worries, Max, and so do I. Lando tells me things.”

“Lando doesn’t know shit.” Max said sharply. 

A vein ticked in Seb’s jaw. “Don’t be mean, Max, that isn’t fair.”

Max deflated instantly. “He just… doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m fine.”

“You’re soaked to the bone on your birthday. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get pneumonia.” 

“I needed it. I needed to cool off. I didn’t realize how mad I was until…”

“No,” Seb grabbed his hand and held it tight, “No, Max. You didn’t need it.”

Max looked up into Seb’s eyes and felt the tears fall against his cheeks unwillingly. “You didn’t hear what I said, Seb. It was awful. I sounded just like him . I’m… just… like… him .

“Oh, baby, no you’re not. Come here.” Seb pulled Max awkwardly into a hug across the console of the car and held him as sobs racked through his sopping frame. 

“Se–Seb, it–it w–was so–so bad. He’ll n-never f-forgive me!” 

“Shhh, shhhh. He’ll forgive you, little lion. I promise. He’s just… gonna need some time.” 

Max tucked his head into Seb’s shoulder and let gut-wrenching sounds fill the small space.

“Shhhh… Oscar loves you, Maxie. He’ll forgive you. He just needs time.” Seb rubbed circles across his back trying to calm the shaking and heaving of the child, but the birthday boy was far from done for the night.

 

The rain pelted against the car and when thunder struck a moment later it shook the car. The two figures inside barely noticed.

Kimi watched from under the awning of the bar and hoped his husband would be able to calm the crying child within. As soon as Danny told him to look out for the boy in the rain, he made the call. Seb was always the more comforting parent of the pair and Lando would be fine for a few hours alone. 

Kimi looked up and noticed movement as another boy watched the scene out of a slit in the upstairs curtain. Oscar had been banished back to his tower and Max exiled in the storm. Some family this was , Kimi thought. He shook his head and lit a cigarette. Seb would yell at him later, but after working here for ten years he deserved it. 

 

The rain didn’t show any signs of letting up and Max’s birthday was officially over. 

He took a slow drag and let the smoke waft up somewhere far, far away.

Notes:

Share allllll your thoughts pleaseeeeeee
I struggled with sections of this and would love some feedback

kisses,
G

Chapter 9: Façades & First Aid Kits (King of Cups)

Summary:

Lando / Seb POV

Notes:

Friends, Comrades,

I’m just a girl.

My job is very much in swing for the summer and after working 9-6 M-F I am sooooo tiredddd.
I promise you I come home every day and write this and poke and pull and prod until the monster comes to life and I’m satisfied with another chapter
But sometimes the words don’t come and sometimes the sleep finds me in the middle of a thought and I lose the flow and then when I look at it again I realize it’s all background info and I scream into the void until she texts me back 👀
So just as a heads up to my fellow passengers on this ride of a fic, during the summer these chapters may come slower (but they will still come)
And I shall be much more regimented to my schedule come 3L Fall
Promise!

Love you always,
G.

P.S.
there's an F slur in this chapter used in a derogatory way (you've been warned)

The sky above them should’ve been full of stars, but every time Lando looked up to try and find one the field lights cascading down around the stadium left dark spots behind his eyes. 

“Dude, you’re distracted. Hold the ball still or I’m never gonna get this.” Oscar called from a few paces away. They were trying to kick from 50 yards and Oscar was having trouble. Maybe he was the distracted one. Or maybe he was just tired. They’d been at the field since practice got out at six and Lando knew from the way his stomach was rumbling and his phone was lighting up in the distance that it was at least eight. 

“We’ve been at this for hours. I think it might be time to take a break, Osc. You should rest your foot.”

“Just a couple more, Lando. Once I nail two in a row from here then we can be done.” Lando nodded and held the football steady. Oscar cracked his neck and then ran forward to make contact with the ball. They both watched as it flew sideways and sailed into the endzone at least ten yards before the yellow posts. 

“Fuck.” Oscar looked after the ball with disappointed eyes. “I’ll never get this.” He kicked at the turf. 

“Nah, you will. Just not tonight, bud. Let’s go home please. My stomach’s growling and I just know that whatever Dad made for dinner is gonna be cold by the time we get there.”

Oscar hung his head and kicked at the ground again. He’d started closer to the goal posts originally but as the hours dragged on he’d wanted to go further and further back. Lando wasn’t really sure what they were still doing here.

Suddenly the sound of errant vibrations made their way from Lando’s pile of stuff a few feet away. 

Oscar perked up. “Your dad or mine?”

Lando jogged over and saw his phone lighting up. “Mine.” 

He picked up and ignored Oscar’s sigh of relief.

“Hey, Dad.” 

“Hey, lieveling , when are you coming home? Dinner is ready and I made enough for Oscar just in case he’s staying over, so just let me know.”

“Yeah, we’re just about to finish up here. We’ll bike home.”

“Okay, be safe. See you soon.”

“Will do, Dad.”

“Does…” Seb stumbled over his words even though Lando knew the next question by heart, “Does someone know where Oscar is? Should I reach out and tell… someone that he’s with us?”

“Max knows.” Lando said smoothly. 

“Ah. Good. Okay, see you soon.” 

“Bye.”

“Love you, bye.” 

Lando hung up and turned to Oscar. “Dinner’s ready, dude. We should go.” 

Oscar rolled his neck, cracked his knuckles, and then nodded. He began picking up all their stuff and Lando ran to grab the stray ball in the end zone. 

Lando knew Oscar was upset about the 50 yard kick, but it was pretty rare for those to happen in a game. Oscar seemed to be pushing his limits recently and trying to do stuff outside the normal purview of a kicker. Lando thought something else might be going on but didn’t know how to ask. Oscar wasn’t really a man of words when it came to everything going on in his head and Lando didn’t want to push.

He watched as Oscar packed up his bag and swung it over his shoulder. They put the footballs back in the locker room and made their way over to the yellow bike rack outside the front entrance of the school. Oscar usually kept his bike at school or at Lando’s since the bar was twenty miles away and it was rare that he biked all the way home. Jos had only made him do that once and it was well before Max had a car so now it just went over the same three mile stretch between Lando’s and the high school.

It was still light outside but the sunlight was fading fast and they still had a twenty-ish minute ride to go. As they pulled out onto the road, Oscar turned to Lando, “Can I stay over tonight?”

Lando nodded, “Yeah, of course. I just kinda figured you were since it’s Friday and there’s not much going on tomorrow.” 

“Cool. cool.”

“Does Max know where you are?”

“Yeah…probably… I’ll text him when we get to your house.”

“Osc…”

“I mean he knows today was a day he didn’t need to pick me up and that usually means I’m with you. And Jos is out of town this weekend, anyway so it doesn’t really matter.”

“ Jos is out of town? He never leaves.”

“Yeah. I know. He said he had business to take care of in Atlanta.” 

“Oh like he left, left.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s in Atlanta?”

Oscar was quiet for a minute and seemed to ponder something. Lando wasn’t good at keeping quiet but he had learned the hard way that if he pushed Oscar when the other boy wasn’t ready that he would clam up and never tell Lando anything. So Lando bit his lip until his mouth hurt, felt the breeze on his face as a distraction, and waited impatiently for Oscar to make up his mind. 

“Max’s mom and sister are in Atlanta.” 

“Shit.” Lando whipped his head to look at Oscar, but the other boy stared straight ahead at the road in front of them. 

“But he’s not going to see them right? I thought he wasn’t allowed to or whatever?”

“I-I don’t know. He’s not supposed to see his ex-wife but I think he’s allowed to see Victoria and her birthday is this month. She’s gonna be sixteen.”

“Oh, right, she's the same age as us.”

“Yeah.” Oscar nodded. 

“Damn…It must be weird for Max that his sister is the same age as… you.” Lando trailed off and realized just how awkward and uncomfortable this topic was. “Sorry. That was weird, I should—”

“—It’s fine, Lando. Max just… doesn’t like to talk about it.”

They fell into silence for a couple minutes as they peddled past convenience stores and into the darker less ‘off the highway’ sections of town. When they had made their way into suburbia and left the city lights behind them, catching the occasional street light marking culdesacs, Lando finally took a deep breath and asked a question he’d been wondering all day, “Did you forgive him yet?”

Oscar didn’t turn his head but his eyes cut sideways to the other boy. “No.”

“But… he apologized, right?” Lando sounded hopeful.

“Jos made him apologize.” Oscar said curtly.

“Doesn’t that still count?”

“No.” Oscar scoffed and shook his head, “He came back inside Tuesday night and Jos made him apologize. Like said he had to apologize right in front of me. And he didn’t even mean it. He barely looked at me.”

“But… wasn’t he like… soaking wet?”

Oscar finally turned to look at Lando but kept his mouth in a thin line, “How do you know that? I didn’t tell you that.”

Lando swallowed and turned right onto the second to last road to his house. “I heard Dad and Pops talking about it when they got home Tuesday night. They must’ve thought I was asleep.”

Oscar was silent for a moment. Then he softly said, “What did they say?”

Lando made a high pitched hum, “Well Pops said that Jos kicked Max out over some fight with you and that calling Dad was the only option left because he was scared Max would freeze. Then he said Max was outside for two hours in the rain before Dad came and that Max would be lucky if he didn’t end up in the hospital with pneumonia.” Oscar looked away. “Then Pops told Dad that when Max went back inside, Jos… Jos threatened him. Said something about leaving him outside all night or making him run laps in the rain if he didn’t get his shit together.”

Oscar sputtered, “H-he said what?”

“Pops might’ve just been exaggerating, but Dad seemed really worried. They talked for like another 30 minutes but by then I was tired so I went to bed.” Lando sighed, “Then yesterday they told me that I can’t ask you to come over after 7:00 on a school night again. Cause you’re not supposed to leave after 8:00 or something. So… I also just want to say I’m sorry for asking you to come over. It was stupid and I didn’t mean to cause a fight between you and Max.”

“What? Lando, you didn’t cause the fight. Why do you think that?”

“It’s just that If I didn’t invite you over then you and Max wouldn’t have fought over you leaving and we wouldn’t be in this mess.” They turned their bikes onto Lando’s street.

“No, Lando. That’s not what happened at all. It’s not your fault that Max and I got into it. He just… is having some… control issues right now.” Oscar paused and closed his eyes, leaning into the wind. When he opened them again, they were sad. “He’s been upset about Jos coming to all my football games for a while now and I just think he blew up a bit at me trying to leave on his birthday. He was feeling entitled or something and must not have wanted anyone to have fun if he was stuck at the bar. It was his own stuff that caused this and honestly it probably had nothing to do with me. So, I promise it wasn’t your fault at all.”

Lando was quiet for a moment but then he gave a half-hearted sigh, “I-I don’t know, Oscar. I don’t mean to like… get involved with you and your family stuff. I just…You used to be so worried about Max like all the time. You would have to make sure that you were home and Max was okay and that Jos wasn’t doing anything too crazy. You were pretty fucking inseparable for those first few years after you came here and I don’t know. Something feels different. It’s like…it’s like you’ve kinda changed and stuff—and that’s not a bad thing, like you’re allowed to grow and stuff—but also I don’t think Max needs you any less. If anything… the more you pull away, the more he might be left to… I don’t know…for lack of a better word, deal with the consequences. I mean… you’ve always said Jos was harder on Max than on you and suddenly you’re leaving him to deal with it alone.” Lando shrugged as he pulled into his driveway. “It just doesn’t really seem like you. Maybe… and just hear me out on this one… Max wasn’t overreacting on his birthday. Maybe he was scared that Jos would realize you had left and… I don’t know… make him run laps outside in the rain or something crazy like that…” Lando shook his head and watched as Oscar stiffened. 

Lando then seemed to realize what he was saying and tried to backtrack, “But it doesn’t really matter. You’re my best friend. If you’re mad at him, then I will be too.” Lando finally smiled over at Oscar as they both kicked their kickstands out and left their bikes in the garage. Oscar noticed that the smile didn’t really reach his eyes, but that Lando was trying for him anyway. 

Oscar smiled back softly. He didn’t really know what to say to all of that, but he at least knew Lando was there for him. “Thanks, Lando.”

He shrugged again, “Yeah, I mean… anything for you.”

 

—

 

It wasn’t like Seb didn’t worry on the nights that Lando stayed late at the field to practice with Oscar; but he was learning to accept that part of having a teenage son was giving him the space to do things without supervision that were definitely harmless and mostly safe. Kicking a football: safe. Hanging out with Oscar: safe. Biking back at 8:30 at night on busy roads: not safe. Knowing that some nights Jos came looking for Oscar and found Lando there too: not safe.

Since the safe things didn’t outweigh the not safe things in Lando’s mind, nothing really stopped Seb from tracking the two boys all the way home on Lando’s phone. But it also meant that since he was tracking them and could see they were ten minutes away, he put their plates in the oven so the food would be warm when they finally got in. 

Seb liked to think that these were equal parenting measures. Boundaries, even. 

Kimi was always telling him he needed to have boundaries, but it was so hard when that fifteen year old kid was his baby. He remembered the day Lando came home with them like it was yesterday.

 

~~1999~~

The month after Sophie Vertappen gave birth to a healthy baby girl, Seb got a call from Mark Webber, his friend and a social worker from Austin. Mark told Seb that there was a baby who needed a foster home for a few months while the dust settled on an incarceration hearing for the baby’s father and asked if him and Kimi would be willing to take in a kid. 

Kimi was hesitant. 

“Seb, I just don’t know if we’re ready for that.”

“Darling, we’ve been thinking about adopting for a while and Mark thinks we’d be the perfect fit for this little guy. And he really only thinks it would be for a couple months, and—”

“—Bwoah. You are just going to talk until I say yes, yes?”

Seb tilted his head and widened his eyes, “Yes, Liebling . You know me well.”

Kimi sighed, “Okay. Okay, but if we are not in this 100% after one month we need to discuss.”

“Of course.” Seb hugged him and peppered kisses across his cheeks.

Kimi pulled away slightly and held Seb at an arm’s length, “Ah, you are like a puppy.” 

But not even Kimi’s sardonic commentary could knock the smile from Seb’s face, “We are going to be parents! To a baby!”

Kimi just rolled his eyes and pulled Seb in closer.

-

Obviously Kimi was so enthralled by the little guy after a month that the conversation of not being foster parents never came back up. When Mark told them the dust had cleared and the dad was in prison and asked them if they wanted to be set up for the adoption track or if they wanted him to find a new set of adoptive parents, it was Kimi who was upset. 

“Why wouldn’t he think we want this baby? He is ours, no? We love him, we care for him, he is our little lion.” Kimi reached down and held onto the baby’s tiny hand.

Seb laughed as the tot cooed from the bassinet in the kitchen. 

“He is just asking, Kimi. He needs to make sure we are in this 100%.”

“Bwoah, of course. There is no world where I send him away.”

Seb watched as Kimi picked up the baby and held him close to his chest, “No, one is taking you from us, little one. No one.”

Seb nodded and called Mark back to tell him to send over the paperwork. They could both sign it even though they weren’t technically married yet.

It wouldn’t be legal in Texas for Seb to marry Kimi for another fifteen years, but that didn’t matter. They were in this together.

 

~~2008~~

 

When Sophie told Seb she was going to leave Jos, the façade they had all been living under finally came crashing down. 

Kimi came home from the bar one night in June with Sophie and two small children in tow behind him. 

“Sebastain, it was awful. He has never been as angry as he was tonight. He grabbed Max and shook him and the way he yelled… I thought for a second that he would pick him up and throw him, I was so scared. If Kimi hadn’t stepped in I don’t know what I would’ve done.” 

She wiped her eyes with a tissue and then grabbed onto her warm mug of chamomile tea. There were bruises on her wrist and her arm. When Seb looked at her in the light, her face was red and swollen on one side. She refused an ice pack when Seb offered and shooed off Kimi’s worried looks. The children had come in frightened and upset but after some coddling and warm milk, Max and Victoria had been tucked into bed in the guest room. Seb hoped they would sleep until morning. Lando was still asleep in his room upstairs and hadn’t been woken by the early morning fray but would be excited to see his cousins at breakfast.

Everything was off kilter but Seb was hoping this was the beginning of something new.

“I need to leave him, Seb. I’ve needed to for a while and you’ve been telling me and telling me and I just couldn’t, but now…”

Seb placed a comforting arm on her shoulder, “I’m so proud of you, Sophie, for coming to us. This is important for you and for your family. You can stay as long as you need.” 

Kimi scowled and a vein ticked in his jaw but he said nothing. Seb locked eyes with him and tried to communicate that they would talk later but the ice man just turned and left the room. 

Seb turned back to Sophie, “Why don’t we set you up on the couch and hopefully you can get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll call a lawyer and get a protective order put in place.”

“He won’t stop, Seb. I know he won’t. He cares too much about his reputation and what he thinks he deserves.”

Seb held onto his mug a little too tightly and the heat began to bite at his fingertips. 

“His reputation as a pool hustler and a cheat? I don’t think there’s much reputation left, Schat . After he bought the bar from Helmut in ‘05 it kind of sealed his fate.”

Sophie sighed, “He used to be a good man, Seb.”

He scoffed in response, “When, Sophie? When we were all in school? You think 

I’m so much younger than you and don’t remember but I’m only six years removed. I remember Jos coming to pick you up when you two used to sneak out to the speedway in Dallas. Your mother was always upset when she discovered you missing. Aunt Victoria would be rolling in her grave at all of this.”

Sophie crossed herself, “Ah, don’t say such things, Sebastian. My mother loved Jos when she was alive. He’s only gotten like this recently with the added stress of the bar and the money and the debt and…”

Seb exhaled in a huff. He refused to fight with her about this. They had been fighting for most of her marriage about her conservative husband and if Seb wanted to stay part of her support system he needed to learn when to stay quiet and listen. He never could just let sleeping dogs lie, though, and this dog took all his energy not to shake awake and scream at. He took a calming sip of his tea and then reached out to hold her hand. 

“You need to get your children out of there, Schatje . Please. Think about how little they both are. They didn’t sign up for this and Jos has shown he cannot be trusted with them. He has hurt you and that is enough.” His fingers grazed softly over the marks on her wrist. “He could hurt them. I don’t know what I would do if Lando…” Seb released a breath and crossed his arms across his chest. His baby was the same age as Sophie's daughter and he couldn’t imagine ever leaving him alone with Jos. “You need to get them out of that house.”

Sophie stared down at her tea for a moment before shaking her head, “He’ll never let me take both of them, Seb.” She took a small sip. “If I were to leave tomorrow by myself, he would be furious but he wouldn’t look for me. If I take the children, especially Max, he will hunt me to the ends of the earth.” She looked up into Seb’s eyes and he watched as tears tracked down her face in disjointed patterns. “Jos tries so hard with Max, but I’m afraid he’s just like me. He feels everything so acutely and Jos… I’m not sure Jos will ever understand him.”

Seb nodded urgingly, “That’s why you have to get them out.”

She sniffled again and nodded. “I will try, Seb, but I know in my gut that if it comes down to Max, Jos will not budge.”

 

–

 

In the end Sophie was right.

Jos fought like hell in court to disprove the domestic violence claims. And the problem was that his defense looked good to the judge. It was a he-said-she-said kind of claim since there was no evidence besides Sophie’s word. No photos, no police reports, not a single credible witness worth asking. Sebastian tried to vouch for her but Sophie wouldn’t let him get involved in the actual trial. She was adamant that he not get in trouble trying to help her.

Seb knew she planned to leave the state after this and get as far away from Jos as possible and Sophie knew that Seb had no plans of leaving Abilene. This was his home. This was where he wanted to be—no matter how the people or the culture bit at him for his sexuality. He wasn’t going to run. He had always been a fighter, and he would fight in Abilene until people accepted him, no matter how long it took. Sophie, on the other hand, never wanted to be a fighter. She just wanted to marry a good man, settle down, and have a family, but now, a decade later, she needed to leave. Even if it cost her everything.

She was upset, but more than that she was scared of him. Of his anger, of his unpredictability, of his charm. Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? If Jos told her to come back home, she would. If Jos promised it would never happen again, she would believe him. The only difference between the other times and this time, was that this time he had almost hurt Max. This time she couldn’t take her kids back into that apartment, but she didn’t have a lot of people to turn to. Small southern towns weren’t exactly known for their kindness in the best of times but when someone was trying to slander a fine, upstanding man of the community? Well, people took notice. 

Sophie tried not to listen to the gossip but it was getting harder with each passing day. 

Jos told anyone that would listen how his wife had gone off the deep end. How she was crazy and had kidnapped his children in a rampage. People started to talk.

Her friends wouldn’t speak to her. The regulars at the bar spit at the ground when they saw her. She felt like her case was a lost cause but she couldn’t stop now that the trolley was in motion. She had to ride the rails even if it killed her. If not for her, then for Max and Victoria.

Seb was her only supper system left in Abilene by the end of the case. He was happy to have her and her family at his home for as long as they needed. He felt closer to Sophie during the months she stayed with him than all the years of her marriage. But at the same time, it cost him his family. 

Kimi was vehemently upset at Sohpie’s intrusion and Jos’ inability to contain his rage and had taken Lando to visit his mother in Minnesota for the two month long trial. Kimi didn’t want any of Jos’ intensity to bleed over and hurt Lando, so he simply left. Kimi told Seb that if it came down to their son or Seb’s cousin, he would protect his son at all costs.

There was too much at stake for two gay men in Texas to get caught in the middle of a custody dispute that involved a man who paid off the police. It was simply too dangerous and Kimi wasn’t willing to take the risk that Jos would stop with Sophie.

It was unlike Jos to give up on anything once he set his mind to it and if Sophie won this case, Kimi had every right to be worried that Seb would be the next target. 

Regardless of Sophie’s fears, Kimi’s flight, and Seb’s desire to help everyone involved to his own detriment, none of it mattered in the end. The judge ruled that Jos would have full custody of Max and Sophie would have full custody of Victoria and each parent could have visitation with the other child. It was an odd ruling to split up the children; but there seemed to be an understanding, even from the bench , that Sophie would leave and not use her visitation rights unless her son came to her. 

Jos made it very clear to her that he never wanted to see her in Abilene ever again.

When Seb escorted her to the bar to get her things there were three police officers drinking and playing a round of pool. They side eyed her and stopped their game when she came in.

One of them whistled and Jos came out of his office glaring.

“What do you want?”

“She has stuff here, Jos. She needs to get it.”

He scowled, “She deserves nothing. She needs to leave.”

Sophie tried, “Jos, please. I need to get Victoria’s things upstairs.”

His gaze sharpened. “Fine, but don’t talk to Max. I told him what you’ve done and he does not want to speak to you.”

“You weren’t supposed to speak to him about the divorce.”

“Well maybe if his mother wasn’t such an ungrateful bitch I wouldn’t have to.”

Seb stepped forward in front of her, “Jos, be sensible. There’s no need for that.”

Jos raised an eyebrow, “You really let the fag speak for you, Schatje ? I’m surprised by you.”

Sophie grabbed Seb’s hand and walked quickly toward the door to the apartment. “I’m not doing this, Jos. I’m getting my things and I’m leaving.”

“Fine. Have it your way. But once you leave Abilene, if I ever see you again, if you ever step foot in this town without my permission, you’re a dead woman.”

She turned and stared at him for a moment, then she turned and stared at the officers.

“He threatened me and yet you all just stand there?” She said to them. 

The three men looked at Jos and then looked at her and turned back to their game of pool. 

Jos’ laugh was thick with cruelty, “You have no one left here. A husband who despises you. A son who will never be allowed to leave. You leave nothing in your wake but resentment from everyone who was supposed to love you.” He paused for a minute and shook his head. “I hope it was all worth it to you. Because if it wasn’t… well… let’s just hope the little ones forgive you when they realize that what has happened was all your fault.”

Seb opened his mouth to speak but Sophie pulled him through the door to the apartment and that was that. 

In the seven years since Sophie had fled to Atlanta with Victoria in tow, she had never returned to Abilene and Max had never visited her. Jos’ promise had come true.

Seb was banned from the bar and from seeing Max. But for all of Jos’ slander towards Seb and eventually his son, the vitriol never seemed to extend towards Kimi who kept his job at the bar to keep close tabs on the younger Verstappen.

 

Seb had to watch from afar as Max grew up and for four years he tried to find a way back into his nephew’s life to no avail.

Then in 2012 Jos adopted Oscar, Lando made a new best friend, and Seb was suddenly thrust back into life at the Lucky Lion.

 

~The Present (2015)~

 

Lando and Oscar ate dinner at the table as fast as humanly possible. 

“—and then Mr. Hamilton called on Oscar even though Oscar wasn’t the one who had thrown the pencil. It was totally Alex but instead of calling on him…”

Sebastian did the dishes while listening as the boys recounted their days. Lando speeding through as per usual and Oscar throwing tid-bits to the conversation here and there.

“Then in gym class we were racing on those scooters, ya know the ones? And—”

“—No, you were racing on the scooters with Ollie, but we were supposed to be playing handball.”

“Ah, who cares, Mr. Vasseur doesn’t care.”

“You ran into Pierre’s legs and toppled him over your shoulder.”

“He wasn’t looking where he was going. He ran into me.”

“You screamed “Geronimo!” And then pushed forward into him.”

Lando spit out his water from laughing so hard. “W-H-he-he he was-wasn’t looking—”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and set down two bowls of ice cream on the table.

“Not that I should give you boys any more sugar, but we simply have too much in the freezer.”

“Ooooo! Thanks, Dad!” Lando dove in and immediately made a mess of the chocolate treat.

Oscar was a little more reserved. 

“Thanks, Mr. Vettle.” He picked up his spoon and poked at the contents of the bowl.

“Oscar, I’ve told you to call me Seb, please. I mean I’m practically your uncle.”

Oscar nodded without looking up and Seb knew there was no getting through to the younger boy. 

Seb watched him for a moment as he played with the bowl in front of him. 

Lando was practically halfway done and Oscar still hadn’t taken a single bite. Seb tried to hold his tongue. He knew nothing good would come from asking or talking about how a teenager eats, but it was hard for him to keep his thoughts to himself, “If you don’t like chocolate, Oscar, I think we have vanilla.”

Oscar winced and turned with a sheepish smile, “No, no, there’s really no need for that, Mr. Vettle. This is perfect.” He shoveled a spoonful into his mouth and tried to look happy as he swallowed. He nodded his head, “See? It’s great. Thank you.”

Oscar pedaled another quick spoonful into his mouth and the forced smile on his face only wavered slightly when he swallowed again. 

Seb worked his jaw but turned back to put the boys’ dinner dishes in the dishwasher. He tried to wipe all thoughts of Sophie’s issues with food from his mind. Oscar and Max were their own people. It could simply be that the boy was full and didn’t want ice cream. Or that he didn’t like chocolate. Next time Seb would ask before expecting both boys to want dessert. He didn’t need to make parallels out of mole hills here.

As dishes clinked he heard the telltale sounds of whispering and then Lando said, “We have some homework to do, Dad. We’ll be in my room. Thanks for dinner!”

Before Seb could even look back over the counter, the sound of one pair of teenage feet was racing down the hallway as another followed softly behind. 

When he looked back over at the table he saw they had taken their ice cream with them and left only silverware behind. 

He sighed and shook his head. 

Teenage boys.

–

The boys had been upstairs the entire evening doing homework or, more likely, playing video games, but now it was silent. Seb was just debating going up and checking on them to see if they were sleeping when he heard the tell-tale sound of a key in the front door announcing the arrival of Kimi. He looked up at the clock and saw it was only midnight. His husband was early by an hour and a half. Seb’s pulse jumped. Normal bars didn’t close early very often but the Lion hadn’t closed early in over two years.

He set his book down, swung the blanket off of his legs and onto the couch, and walked quickly toward the front entranceway.

He emerged into the brighter light emanating in the hall to find Kimi shutting the door softly as the younger Verstappen took his shoes off by the shoe rack. 

Max jumped when he noticed Seb, “Fuck.” It came out breathy as if Seb had startled his voice away too.

Seb was speechless at the sight of him. Blood dripped from a gash at his hairline and practically half his face was covered. Fuck was right.

Kimi raised an eyebrow at Seb’s motionless form and grumbled, “You want to help? Or you just want to stand there?”

Seb bit his tongue before a sharp retort could slice at Kimi. Now was not the time. He took a deep breath, “Follow me, Max. I have bandages and a first aid kit in the kitchen.” Seb turned. 

Max followed slowly. He had been there enough times to know where the kitchen was but still tread closely behind Seb. 

The house smelled like lavender and rosemary. There were three different candles burning that Max could see on their short walk and fresh yellow flowers sat in a vase on the kitchen table. Seb pointed to the place at the table where Oscar had sat earlier and said, “Sit, please.” 

He moved quickly to the pantry to rifle through some things, lifting boxes and moving containers until he said, “Ah ha.” 

He came back out, shut the door behind him, and placed a hefty first aid kit on the table. Then he moved to the sink, washed his hands, came back to the table, and put blue gloves on. 

Max watched him and tried to listen for the telltale sounds of Oscar and Lando upstairs, but heard nothing. Kimi stood silently in the doorway but then seemed to get bored or tired or annoyed (it was hard for Max to tell) and strode pointedly to the living room on the other side of the house. Max heard the TV turn on and muted sounds drifted into the kitchen.

Seb spoke and brought Max’s attention back to the man in front of him,“I-I’m gonna take a look at your face now. And I’m… gonna try to clean some of the blood and then I’m probably gonna need to put antiseptic on the gash on your forehead which will string… and then probably some bandages, okay?”

Max nodded but didn’t speak. He looked like he wanted to say something but then clamped his mouth shut and gazed down at his hands. 

Seb stared at the kid in front of him and wondered for the second time that week why he had become the person to call when the younger Verstappen got hurt.

It had been seven years since Sophie sat where Max was sitting and asked Seb not to worry about her, but when the boy looked up at him, he swore they were the same person. He didn’t know if he could do this again. Fail at saving someone again.

At least this time, he was a registered nurse and knew how to properly clean a wound.

Seb’s gloved hands were probably cold against Max‘s cheek as he tilted Max‘s jaw and positioned his head up and to the right. He dabbed the cut with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic and Max grit his teeth, but said nothing. Seb knew Max wouldn’t make a sound. Jos didn’t like children who whined . Seb ignored his internal monologue pointing out all the potential trauma responses Max was having— he’s not your kid, Seb. Let it be.

Seb dabbed again with the cotton ball before realizing there was too much blood to see anything clearly. He walked to the sink and soaked a washcloth before coming back and running it softly down the boy’s face, trying to clear the mess of crusted blood and get a better picture of the cut underneath. Head wounds bleed a lot but usually start pretty small. He paused in his efforts and looked more closely at the wound. 

There was glass in the boy’s hair and a small jagged piece embedded in the still dripping cut at his hairline. His right eye was beginning to swell and, if the red skin was any indicator, probably painful.

Seb reached his left hand up slowly so Max could see it and grazed the swollen skin around Max’s eye. Max hissed through his teeth at the ache that greeted him and his muscles went rigid under the older man’s hand. Seb pulled his hand back immediately and called out softly so Kimi could hear him in the other room, “Kimi, can you get me an icepack from the freezer.”

A gruff sound followed quickly by the creak of the hardwood floor made its way to their ears and then Kimi was standing in the kitchen, his eyes drawn immediately to Seb’s proximity to Max. 

“How’s it goin’?”

Max knew the bouncer was talking to him, “I’m fine.”

“Got a concussion?” Kimi handed the ice pack over.

Max’s eyes locked with Seb’s, and the older man sighed. “It’s too soon to rule out. Hold this to your eye for a bit and then I’ll clean the area again, remove the glass, and put a bandage on that cut.” He held the ice pack out to Max who took it and did as he was told. 

Kimi leaned against the counter top in the kitchen and crossed his arms. 

Seb ignored his husband’s presence and took a step back from Max. He tried to keep his body language casual but his voice was strained as it held an array of feelings at bay, “Does someone want to tell me what happened?”

Max stared down at the ground and seemed to shrink into himself a little at the request. 

Kimi huffed, “Tommy Bentley happened.”

Seb whipped his head to look at Kimi, “Tommy? Bentley? Wasn’t he a couple years younger than me at school?”

Kimi nodded. Seb waited for him to continue but he didn’t. 

“Max?”

The boy looked up and his blue eyes shone like they were locked on headlights somewhere behind Seb. 

Seb softened his tone. “I’m not mad, Max. I just need to know what we’re dealing with here.”

The kid was silent for another minute before his shoulders sagged, “Tommy wanted to play a game tonight so he wagered his usual bet.” Max shook his head, “I think he was trying to win his paycheck back from a couple weeks ago but he’s shi–bad, he’s bad at pool and I won in like fifteen minutes.”

“And then…?” Kimi prompted from the corner of the kitchen.

Max shot him a look. “Then I won again cause one game wasn’t enough for him.”

“Or for you.” Kimi added under his breath.

Max stood up and set the ice pack down, “If you want to say something, say it.”

Kimi raised an eyebrow but stayed where he was—a kitchen between them. “You should not have been playing tonight. Daniel was distracted, Jos was not there, and Helmut left early. It was you versus three of them. And you are a child .”

“I’m seventeen!”

“A. Child.” Kimi shook his head. “It doesn’t matter that you are better. It doesn’t matter that you were always going to win. They saw an opportunity to fuck you over and they took it.”

Max’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, “I’m allowed to play whoever I want when Jos isn’t there. Those are the rules. That money is mine to win or to lose.”

Kimi took a step forward and pointed at Max, “It isn’t about the money. It’s about your safety . You put yourself in danger tonight playing those fools.” He took another step, “Tommy Bentley is one thing if Jos is there, but two games against him when he’s got two other guys drinking with him and no one to protect you? You could’ve—”

“—I’m not a child, Kimi! I’m allowed to play even when Jos isn’t there and I don’t need him to protect me.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Kimi’s words were as sharp as the glass dusting Max’s scalp, “but they smashed a bottle over your head after you won the second game and now you’re in my kitchen instead of your bar which had to close early when Daniel called the fucking cops .” 

Max looked like he wanted to stomp his foot and let out an undignified sound. “Daniel didn’t need to call the cops. I had it handled!”

Kimi rolled his eyes and took another step forward, “Punching someone and having a situation handled are two different things. Just ask your father, he would know.”

“Kimi!” Seb interjected

Kimi didn’t care. “What do you think is going to happen when Jos finds out, Max? Hmmm?” He threw his hands up in the air as he took another step, “Do you think Tommy’s gonna get banned from the bar? A man who loses money there once a month. Do you think Daniel’s gonna get fired? A guy with three years left on his life sentence? Do you think Helmut will tell Jos the truth about leaving early? Huh? Do ya?”

Max’s face had gone blank. 

Seb hadn’t noticed the moment it switched but all of a sudden Max’s face looked… empty like… no one was home. His eyes still tracked Kimi but they were the only part of him that seemed alive.

“Or do you think he’s going to blame you for playing on a night he wasn’t there? Rules be damned and all.”

Max swallowed hard but didn’t move.

“Kimi, please.” Seb pleaded.

Kimi turned to him, anger and fear and sorrow all wrapped up in the emotions on his face. 

“No, Seb. Don’t ‘ Kimi, please’ me. I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep putting this kid back together and bandaging him up and then watching Jos beat him black and blue. I can’t. I won’t. When I came in tonight and saw him—” he turned to Max “—saw you on the ground with three men standing over you, I almost lost it. I could've easily k—” Kimi took a deep breath. Then another. And then a third. “I almost lost it. And I’m not doing this again. I know what Jos will do when he finds out. I know that you know.” He looked at Max. “What I don’t know is why you keep poking a bear that has never once hibernated! You don’t need to prove you are good at pool. Everyone knows you are good at pool! You don’t need the money. If you need money I will give you money. For fuck’s sake Daniel will give you money. So why? Why, Max?”

Max didn’t answer but his shoulders sagged and the fight seemed to leave his body.

Kimi took a final step. “If Jos is not there, You. Should. Not. Play. End of discussion.”

Max stared at him for a minute and Seb swore neither man blinked. 

He realized this was not the first time Kimi and Max were having this conversation. It felt like this was probably the hundredth time they were having it based on the exasperation in Kimi’s voice and the look in Max’s eyes. 

There was a beat of silence. Then another. 

Finally, “Okay.” Max sat back down at the table. He tilted his head up to the position that Seb had previously had it in and closed his eyes. 

“Okay?” Seb asked the room.

“Okay.” Max said again. “If Jos isn’t there I won’t play.” He kept his eyes closed.

Kimi huffed, “Bwoah.” 

Seb stepped forward and looked at the cut again, “I’m going to use some tweezers to remove the glass and then I’m going to put more antiseptic on the wound before bandaging it.”

Max nodded. 

Kimi huffed again, “He got me all worked up just to agree with me.”

“Darling, go sit down please. Your grumbling will distract me.” 

Kimi huffed a third time and said, “Fucking teenagers,” but strode out of the room.

Seb grabbed a pair of tweezers out of the first aid kit and held Max’s head steady as he attempted to get the glass out. 

A muscle ticked in Max’s jaw as Seb manoeuvered them but once again didn’t make a sound. 

The glass slid out easily once Seb finally snagged it between the blades. Blood continued to trickle out of the wound but it was clotting quicker now. He held the washcloth back up to Max’s face for a moment and the teen tipped his head into the touch for a moment. Seb took a deep breath and once again tried to quiet his inner monologue about Max’s situation. 

When Seb moved his hand again, Max finally opened his eyes. 

“Do you want me to find a ride back to my house tonight?”

“No,” Seb said as he placed another cotton ball with antiseptic on the wound. “You’ll stay here tonight and then Kimi or I will drive you and Oscar back in the morning.”

He shone a flashlight near Max’s face to make sure there was no more visible glass. Then he nodded and went to grab a bandage. 

“Okay.” A pause. “Are you sure it’s okay that Oscar and I stay here because, really, I—”

“— Lieveling , please. Of course it’s alright. You’re family.”

Max bit the inside of his cheeks and didn’t respond. 

Seb placed two butterfly bandages on the cut. 

“Alright you should be all set for now. But I’ll want to look at it again in the morning.”

Max nodded and stood up from the table, leaving the ice pack discarded behind him.

Seb glanced at the clock and saw it was 1:00 AM. 

“It’s late. I’ll show you to the guest room.” 

Seb walked out of the kitchen and heard the telltale sound of socked feet following behind.

He grabbed towels from the linen closet on the way and walked toward a door at the end of the hall that Max was intimately familiar with.

Seb opened the door and led Max into the bedroom he had shared with Victoria seven years ago.

He set the towels on the bed and pointed to a dresser on the far side of the room. “There should be some of Oscar’s clothes in there if you want to change.” He pointed to another door. “And the bathroom’s right through there.”

Max looked around slowly and then nodded. Seb hadn’t really changed any of the decorations so the room looked almost the same.

“Does Daniel know you’re safe?”

Max looked over at him. When he spoke it came out in a whisper, “Yes.”

“Do you want to tell your dad that you’re here?”

Max’s eyes widened. “No.”

Seb had one more question. “Do you want me to tell your mom?”

Max was quiet for a second, “No, she shouldn’t worry. And she has enough to deal with this weekend.” 

Seb didn’t know what that meant but it wasn’t the time to ask.

“If you need anything, Kimi and I will be upstairs in the first bedroom on the right.”

Max nodded. 

“Okay. I’ll um… see you in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Seb shut the door softly behind him and then stood there staring at the bland white paint. He heard shuffling behind the door and then the lock clicked softly. 

 

He closed his eyes, leaned his forehead softly against the door, and took a deep breath. 

It had been a hell of a week.

Notes:

I love all your comments and I promise to respond soon!!!

-G.

Chapter 10: Dreams & Deliberations (Two of Pentacles reversed)

Summary:

Part 2 of Seb's house (bet you didn't see that coming)

Notes:

Hiiiiiii!

Lots of crazy things happening at Red Bull in the two week break after Silverstone…
Lots of crazy things happening in the made up world on the page.
Some chapters feel like they come as easily as turning on a faucet and some chapters I feel like I'm literally carving marble and I need to keep reminding myself that chiseling is half the fun.
Either way, I eventually look at it and go “Huh, yeah. This sure is something.”
Hopefully, you think so too.

Enjoy!
-G

Max tossed and turned in blue sheets that were just shy of comfortable. His head pulsed like a bass drum in time with his breath and he sat up more than once to try to get it to stop. Nothing worked. At one point he moved to the edge of the bed and swung his feet over as if to stand but the room spun around him as if he were on a carousel. He fell back down onto the bed and pulled the pillow over his head to apply gentle pressure. Hopefully that would make the pounding fade. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d had a concussion, but it was the first time he wasn’t at home. He missed his bed and his sheets and the familiar sounds of their apartment. Even the ones that startled him in the dark.

He thought finally falling asleep would be his reprieve but nothing could’ve prepared him for what his brain had planned.

~

Green glass swirled around him like a kaleidoscope. The colors of herbs and leaves and teal stone spun circles in front of his eyes. He shook his head and the glass flew back away from his face. The colors got deeper as they traveled further and further and then suddenly a pair of eyes appeared in front of his face. Green eyes. Beautiful eyes. Eyes that seemed to stare straight into Max’s soul. 

Max blinked and Charles was in front of him. Green eyes locked on Max. 

The Montegasque’s mouth moved but no sound came out. Max couldn’t take his eyes away from Charles for long enough to try to read his lips.

Then Charles laughed and waved a hand in front of his face. 

“Max, Max? Did you hear what I said?”

Max shook his head as he finally understood the other boy in front of him.

“Ah you are so silly, Maxie.” Charles laughed and the sound hung in the air like the tinkle of bells. 

Max could feel himself blush.

Charles reached a hand out and cupped his face. “Ah, Chéri , you are so beautiful when you blush for me.”

Max felt his jaw drop. His skin tingled where Charles touched him and he felt his cheeks grow warmer. Who was this version of Charles? This glorious, confident, breathtaking version of Charles holding Max’s face in his hands? 

It only made perfect sense for Charles’ hand to move softly to close Max’s mouth. 

“You’ll catch flies like that, you know?” Charles laughed again and his thumb stroked the edge of Max’s cheek. 

Max’s eyes fluttered closed and then open again. Charles was still standing in front of him. 

“Charles, I—“

Charles leaned closer.

“Charles, what are you doing?” Max heard himself say. He didn’t feel like he had any control over his body. He wouldn’t have been able to move away even if he wanted to. His feet were rooted to the ground. His face was wrapped in a warm embrace. He felt so incredibly calm. He was practically a puddle when Charles’ eyes got closer to his. He worried he would evaporate or simply cease to exist if those eyes ever left his own.

“Oh Max, you ask such silly questions.”

Charles leaned in and Max sensed what was about to happen a moment before it occurred.

Was he—is this—no—

Charles’ lips met Max’s and every thought that had filtered through his brain immediately stopped. For one blissful, haze filled second there was complete silence in Max’s head.

Then he kissed Charles back. 

Color exploded around them. 

Red, orange, blue.

Hands scraped at the base of his neck and tugged lightly at his hair. His own hands came up to hold the soft curve of Charles’ jaw. 

Their lips locked together not in a battle but almost in a dance, and then all too suddenly, Charles pulled away. 

His cheeks were red, his eyes wild, his tongue swept once over his bottom lip. Once. Twice. 

Max panted in front of him as if he had just run a race. He took in a deep breath. Then another. 

Max felt himself blush again.

Charles’ smile seemed to stretch all the way across his face at the sight.

“Don’t be shy, Darling. We can do that again if you like,” Charles paused. Max very much would like, “but first I want you to finish explaining it to me.” Charles turned to point and suddenly the light airy feeling in Max’s chest was replaced by a heaviness that could only be explained by the pool table looming in front of him. 

Black, purple, green. 

“What-what was I explaining?” Max whispered and turned to Charles but the other boy was no longer there. In his wake, the bar materialized, filled with people Max didn’t recognize. 

Suddenly it was loud. Too loud. There was music and chatting and the cacophony of pool cues breaking triangles of ivory and resin balls. Max covered his ears and sank to his knees. He felt his first breath fall into hyperventilating. He heard a footfall he would recognize even at the ends of the earth and dread sliced through him. He felt the sound in his bones. It got closer.

“No, no, nonononononono—” Max whispered and pressed himself deeper and deeper into the floor. Maybe if he hid here, he wouldn’t be found. Maybe if he was small enough, quiet enough, obedient enough, maybe—

“Max!” A voice boomed through the static. 

“Nonononono.” 

“Max!” The steps grew closer. 

“No no.” Not today. Not when Charles—

“Ma–”

—Max shot up in bed as a hand came down on his shoulder. He jolted away from the threat as if burned. It was only when he finally got to the furthest corner of the bed, as far away from the intruder as possible, and looked up that he realized his mistake. 

Seb was looking at him with wild eyes and a hand outstretched to… nowhere. His mouth was open in a perfect “O” and his head shook slightly at Max’s reaction. 

Max quickly went to apologize but before words could leave his mouth a throbbing pang shot through his head and he sucked air in sharply as he brought his hands up to cradle his skull. He felt a sound awfully close to a whimper leave his lips and he bit down until he tasted iron.

He didn’t know how long he stayed huddled like that. It could have been minutes or maybe just seconds but after the initial wave of pain swept over him and he looked back up, Seb was gone. Max looked around the room but the other man was nowhere to be seen. He laid back gently on the pillows, pulled the blanket back over his chest, and stared up at the popcorn ceiling above him. 

When the door opened again a moment later he wasn’t even surprised. 

“I locked that door last night.” Max said softly to the ceiling. 

Seb whispered back. “I have a key for emergencies.” 

Max didn’t look at him. “And me sleeping here is an emergency?”

“No, Lieveling , you sounding distressed in your sleep and calling for help is an emergency.”

Max turned toward Seb but kept his head on the pillow. Seb had closed the door behind him but stood practically in the doorway as if scared to come further into the room. He was carrying a kitchen tray and watching Max like one would a wounded animal—as if waiting for him to bite.

Max looked back up at the ceiling. “Sorry I woke you.”

Seb tittered a pitiful laugh, “No, no you did not wake me. It’s 6:30. I am usually awake by now even if I am up late taking care of wayward nephews.” He came further into the room and set the tray down on the bedside table. “I brought you cold water and hot chamomile tea. Also two ice packs to hold either to your temples or for the back of your neck—whichever soothes the pain more. You cannot take pain medicine for a bit so we’ll resort to other remedies until I’m confident you won’t do anything to prolong your healing process.”

Max nodded gently. 

“I can make you whatever you want for breakfast or I can let you sleep more and come back when you wake up hungry. Regardless, you should plan to sleep most of today and tomorrow to heal. Do you mind if I check the cut on your forehead before I let you go back to sleep? I just want to make sure it didn’t get infected overnight.”

Max nodded softly again and turned his head as if to invite Seb over.

Seb approached slowly, “I’m going to touch your face and peel back the bandage okay?”

Max closed his eyes.

Seb pulled back the adhesive slowly as if trying to not hurt Max anymore than he had to. He seemed to be satisfied because he gently set it back down and patted it back against Max’s head. 

“It’s not bleeding anymore and the edges look a bit better than yesterday.” 

Max opened his eyes and looked up at Seb. 

“I probably should’ve woken you up every couple of hours to make sure you were alright, but honestly I thought sleep would be better. I will probably follow that rule more closely today though.”

Max nodded again. 

“Any objections?”

Max shook his head. 

“Any verbal comments?”

Max sighed and looked up at the ceiling, “This isn’t my first concussion, Seb.”

Max didn’t need to look at Seb to know he winced. 

“Yes, well be that as it may, it’s your first one in my presence and I have a million years of experience so I will just do what I would normally do with patients who came into the hospital.”

“I’ll be fine, Seb.” 

“Yes, you will. As long as you get the necessary sleep and time to heal and don’t take any more… hits to the… head.” Seb trailed off at the end..

Max just closed his eyes again. He rarely planned on taking any hits to the head.

“When are you expected home, Max?”

Max’s eyes popped open and with them came a fresh new wave of discomfort through the front of his skull. 

“Jos comes back to town on Tuesday.” He whispered to the ceiling.

“Jos left?” Seb sounded incredulous.

“He… he went to Atlanta.” Max knew he sounded resigned when he said it, but he couldn’t help but be jealous that Jos went to see Victoria and Max still wasn’t allowed to go.

“He went to ATLANTA?!” Seb raised his voice and Max closed one eye at the sudden noise. 

“I–I– Why did your father go to Atlanta? He isn’t supposed to be anywhere near Sophie.”

Max tipped his head further into the pillow and ignored the dull throbbing at the base of his skull that seemed to mold and stretch with his heart beat. 

“He went for Victoria’s birthday. She’s er—she will be sixteen in a couple weeks.”

“But, but, he, he…” Seb grabbed the back of his neck and began to pace the length of Max’s bed. “He’s not supposed to go without her permission and I know Sophie didn’t know about this. She would have told me. I just don’t know why he—” Seb whirled to look at Max, “Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

Max winced and turned away from Seb toward the far wall of the room. “I didn’t think it was relevant and you didn’t ask.” Max closed his eyes again.

Seb was silent for a moment and then Max heard a sigh. “You’re right of course. I didn’t ask. In my defense you came here quite late. We will discuss this later after you rest more.”

Max nodded. He was sure Seb was watching him. 

“I’m going to wrap the ice packs in a towel and set them on the back of your neck. Try to move them before you fall asleep please.”

Max felt the sweet relief of the ice against the heat from the back of his head and neck. It worked to soothe the pounding droll of the drum in his skull. 

“I will let you rest, Lieveling . Goodnight.” 

Max heard the door click softly as Seb left. 

He wanted to move the ice packs before he fell asleep. He really did. 

But almost at the same time as he pulled the comforter a little tighter around him, he sank back into the sweet escape of sleep.

 

Swirls of red and navy cars raced by Max’s eyes. He had never seen anything so fast in his life. Not even the time his Dad took him to the speedway outside of Dallas. Nothing compared to the race in front of him. The cars soared along the track. Hitting corners at speeds Max could only dream of and passing each other on every straight. Suddenly the scent of citrus overwhelmed his senses and when he turned Charles was standing bedside him. 

“They are incredible, no?”

Max stared as Charles watched the race closely. He was wearing a large white sweatshirt and red baggy jeans, but Max wasn’t focused on his clothes. He was captivated by the intense look on Charles’ face. 

He heard himself say, “You're incredible.”

The green eyes he was becoming intimately familiar with finally turned to look at him. 

The weight of that stare left more of an impression on Max than he was willing to admit. 

“Try not to get hurt again, okay, Cheri?” 

Max crinkled his face in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Charles reached up to caress the right side of Max’s face and the bruises Max suddenly remembered were there began to ache in time with his breathing. 

“I hate to see you like this.”

“You… you’ve… never…”

“When you are ready, I will be here.”

The sky darkened above them and Max felt his face harden at Charles’ sweet words. 

This wasn’t something he was ready for. Max turned away from the boy beside him. 

The cars had stopped racing during the brief moment they were turned from the track. The sky darkened with a slight green tint as an approaching storm painted the sky. Max felt Charles’ presence behind him but he began walking toward the thunder and lightning instead. 

The storm seemed safer than whatever hope was lighting up Charles’ eyes.

 

He woke up slowly. 

First he felt his body stretch against unfamiliar sheets, then he noticed the different texture of the pillow underneath his cheek. He opened his eyes and saw rain falling outside a larger window than the one in his room at home. A sliver of glass was visible where green curtains were tucked into themselves. 

Max groaned against the pillow and shifted so he was facing the door. 

The clock on the nightstand read 11:30 and Max started suddenly. Jos would be upset he slept so late. He was up and out of bed and almost at the door before it fully clicked that he was nowhere near the bar and Jos was in Atlanta. 

Max took his hand off the doorknob and turned back to the guest room behind him. 

He took inventory of the room as everything came into view for the first time in the daylight. 

The tea Seb had brought him earlier was cold and the ice water was room temperature. He found the ice packs melted in puddles on the floor where he probably knocked them off the bed during his hazy sleep. The clothes in the dresser he rifled through were indeed clothes that Max recognized as Oscar’s. He threw on a pair of sweatpants and a black T-shirt which were a little snug, but they would be fine for the day. 

He splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom and poked at the black eye and purple brushing splashed across the right side of his face. 

He hadn’t expected the bottle to shatter down on his head about as much as he hadn’t expected Tommy to have a clean right hook. That split second stupidity had cost him the next two weeks while he nursed this concussion. 

Max suddenly remembered that last night, Kimi had asked him to stop playing when Jos wasn’t around to watch. He groaned audibly and grasped the marble sink beneath his hands. The stone was cold under his hands, but it didn’t ground Max as much as he needed it to.

He had given into Kimi’s demands because it was late and his head hurt and he didn’t want to argue, but now Max was worried. Nights where Jos wasn’t there was how Max made most of his money. Without those nights, he wouldn’t have money to spend on school lunch, or the truck, or when Oscar had stuff like field trips or needed new sneakers. More importantly, he wouldn’t have money for his and Oscar’s emergency funds that were their only ticket out of this rinky dink town. 

Jos expected Max to play whether he was there or not. Some nights he told Danny or Helmut to collect money, and some nights Jos collected the money himself after closing time, but the nights where Jos didn’t demand anything, there was an unspoken agreement that Max would be able to keep any of the money he earned. That was how Max could afford anything. Jos hadn’t given him money since Oscar came to live with them and there was no reason for the man to start now.

Kimi might be worried about his safety, but Max was worried about his future.

The bruises and cuts and even the concussions would heal, but without this money, Max would never be able to get him and Oscar out.

He would talk to Kimi. He would make him see reason. And if he didn’t see… well then Max would have to talk to Seb.

He let go of the marble and met his eyes in the mirror. The swelling made it hard to fully open his right eye and he poked it again before hissing at the sharp pain that followed.

He shook his head slightly and the movement triggered a further dull thrum under his skin. There was no winning while looking at the mirror so he went back into the bedroom and headed for the door. On the way he noticed the tray Seb had brought earlier. He walked over and downed the water on the nightstand. When he set the cup down he noticed his phone was at an even 10%.

Max wished, not for the first time, that he had his mother’s number. He picked his phone up but there were no texts or calls to worry about. He debated telling her the next time they talked that he had a cellphone and could call and text her. On the plus side, he would be able to call her and Victoria whenever he wanted to. On the other side, Jos had forbidden it and whenever he got in one of his moods and went through Max’s phone, he would find the call log or worse, Sophie’s contact. 

Max set his phone down and tabled the idea. It wouldn't really be important again until her birthday anyway.

He looked over at the door and took a deep breath just as his stomach growled. 

If this were a normal Saturday, he would’ve already made breakfast, cleaned the kitchen and living room, and potentially gone down to shoot around before Jos got up.

Instead he was standing in Seb’s guestroom psyching himself up to go ask for breakfast and to be taken home as soon as possible. It was a little humiliating but he swallowed the feeling down.

He opened the door slowly and peaked his head out. He didn’t hear anything so he closed the door softly behind him and tiptoed through the hallway toward the kitchen. He moved on the edges so as to avoid any squeaky floorboards and when he got to the kitchen, Seb was sitting at the table nursing a cup of tea and reading a paperback book. He didn’t notice Max. 

Max listened for sounds anywhere else in the house that showed other people were around, but it was quiet. 

He took a step into the kitchen and cleared his throat. 

Seb jumped and looked up at him, then he chuckled, “Ah, Max. You startled me.”

Max walked in slowly and sat down across from him. 

“Are you hungry? We have cereal, toast, fruit and yogurt, or I can make pancakes? I usually make those for Lando and Oscar on Saturday mornings so I’d be happy to make some for you.”

“Toast is good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m going to make you more tea too.” 

Max nodded. 

“Ah and let me shut the lights off in here for your eyes.”
“No, no it’s okay.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll um, I’ll tell you if it gets too bright.”

Seb nodded and went to the fridge. 

Max took a deep breath. Then another. This was Seb. This was easy. He just had to ask. The worst thing he could do was say no and then Max would just have to deal with it or text Danny to come get him. 

A plate appeared in front of him and he looked up into Seb’s expectant face, “I said ‘How did you sleep?’”

“Oh, fine. Yeah. Fine, fine.”

“Good. After you eat, why don’t you rest in the living room for a bit and then go back to bed? Does that sound good?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you could maybe… take me home, maybe?”

Seb crossed his arms, “You don’t want to stay here?”

Max looked down at the table. “No, I just… I want to be in my own bed and stuff.” 

“There’s no one there to take care of you, Max. And it will be busy and loud again tonight when the Lion reopens.”

Max wanted to say there hadn’t been anyone to take care of him for his last two concussions, but he knew that wouldn’t help his case. “I know my dad isn’t there, but I’d rather be in my own house where I’ve already done this before. I can monitor myself, Seb, really.”

Seb looked skeptical. “I’d feel a lot better, Max, if I knew you were somewhere safe where someone else was monitoring your symptoms.”

Max worked his jaw. 

“Kimi can grab anything you need while he’s there tonight, but I’d prefer you stay until at least Monday night. After that I’ll let you go back home.” 

Max felt his teeth grind together and his headache spiked. 

“Please, Seb. Just let me go home.” 

“Please, Max, don’t fight me on this. I just want what’s best for you.”

Max snapped at him, “How do you know what’s best for me? You barely know me.”

“Shall we call your father and ask what he’d prefer?”

Max’s head snapped up to look at Seb’s face but Seb was looking at the doorway of the kitchen where Kimi was standing. 

Max shook his throbbing head and felt a glare snake its way onto his face as he turned to look at Kimi, “Don’t do that .”

“Do what?”

“Don’t threaten me. It’s not a good look for you.” Max’s words were sharp, but Kimi wasn’t fazed. Seb might not have spent a lot of time with this version of Max, but Kimi had spent years dealing with the aftermath. He knew how defensive the younger boy could get when he felt cornered.

“If you want to go, that’s fine, but we need parental permission. Either we call Jos or we call Sophie.”

Max huffed out a breath angrily. 

“Just let me go home.”

“Just let us take care of you, Lieveling .” Seb pleaded. “We just want you to be safe.”

“Has it occurred to either of you that I just want to be left alone.”

Seb sighed, “Of course it has, Darling, but please just…just humor me. I don’t want you anywhere without the proper supervision but especially near that bar where those men hurt you… and unfortunately with Kimi outside and Daniel behind the bar and your… aptitude for pool games with your father’s unsavory clientele, I just think it’ll be safer if we monitor your concussion here and also make sure that you’re not doing anything to exacerbate your condition.”

Max’s hands curled into fists. He saw red for a minute but he swallowed it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He bit his tongue both literally and vocally. He had been taking care of himself for as long as he could remember. Hell, he had been taking care of Oscar too for five years. He could handle a little concussion. But if he lost his cool, then Seb and Kimi would never agree to let him go.

“If I promise not to go in the bar for the rest of the weekend, will you please take me home?”

“No.” Kimi said simply as if it was the easiest decision in the world. “I was not kidding earlier. If you want to go you need parental permission. I have Jos’ number and I will call and ask.” He waved the phone in his hands. 

“Kimi,” Seb sighed. “We would obviously call Sophie.”

“No.” Max said suddenly, all the anger gone from his body. The word came out in a plea.  

Seb turned to Max, obviously confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. “Why not?”

Max didn’t speak. His heart was hammering in his chest. He felt fear spike along his shoulder blades.

His father finding out about the fight at the bar was one thing. Jos would be upset and he would blame Max and he would yell and bully Tommy Bentley about fucking up a Friday night, but all of that was predictable. Max knew that would happen. He could spot it from a mile away. He could probably even guess exactly what Jos would say and do to him. He had 17 years of experience to choose from .

But his mother?

Max didn’t want her within 100 miles of The Lucky Lion. He didn’t want her to know anything that he had done in the last ten years at his father’s direction. She would be devastated. She would be worried. She would try to help.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t call her.” 

Max‘s body tightened and his spine came straight. His eyes catalogued the exit, then Kimi’s raised eyebrow and set jaw in the corner of the kitchen, and then came back to rest on Seb’s crossed arms. He wondered if Oscar would hear him if he called out. He wondered if Oscar would care. The younger boy still wasn’t speaking to him. Seb noticed the change immediately, “Max I’m not trying to scare you but she could help.” 

“No, she can’t.” Max said with the finality of one walking to the gallows. “She can’t.” He repeated and shook his aching head as if trying to knock something loose. “No one can.” Max locked eyes with Seb. “This is my life, Seb. Haven’t you noticed? I hustle people, I make stupid bets, and apparently I get the shit beaten out of me by Tommy Bentley and his friends. That’s my life. She walked away from that for a good reason and she shouldn’t have to be roped back into it just because you want to play the hero all of a sudden. She got away from him. From all of this. Do not try to pull her back.”

Max didn’t realize he was standing until his finger was inches from Seb’s face.

Sebastian‘s eyebrows crinkled in confusion before understanding filtered across his face. “You think if I tell her what happened that she’ll try to get custody of you.” He didn’t ask it like a question. 

Max lowered his arm and nodded.

“And you don’t want that.” Still not a question.

Max shook his head no.

“Because…?”

“Because he’ll kill her.” 

It came out in a whisper but the effect was immediate. Seb recoiled as if he’d been slapped and Kimi made a choking sound. 

Max hadn’t meant to say it. He really hadn’t. But that didn’t make it any less true. 

Jos’ anger toward Sophie had warped and twisted over the last ten years. It was a vast ocean of pain and hurt and betrayal and Max had heard every kind of insult and threat leave Jos’ lips at the mere mention of Sophie’s name. His father was a complicated, angry man with the ability to hold a grudge long past the appropriate time. Even now when Jos was in Atlanta to see Victoria, he wouldn’t go near his ex-wife. He couldn’t stand to be near her. That, Max was sure of. 

But if she came back here to Abilene, to the town they had grown up in, to the place Jos felt was his , Max knew his father well enough to know there was nothing that would be able to stop his anger from bursting forth like a dam wall collapsing from the pressure of an unrelenting, unrepentant storm. 

There would be carnage.

There would be nothing and no one left untouched in the wake of Jos’ anger. 

And Max knew without a doubt that he, Oscar, and Sophie would bear the brunt of the rage.

 

Kimi left the room. Max didn’t need to turn to know that the footsteps were Kimi receding into the hallway and then the living room. The icy bouncer had his own feelings to grapple with and didn’t need another reason to kill a man.

“When did it start?”

“When did what start?”

“You know what, Max.”

Max sat back down at the table. “He taught me how to play six months before she left if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“It’s not.” 

“As soon as I could see over the table.”

“Max…”

“I’m not doing this today, Seb. My head hurts. Can you turn off the lights?” Max looked down at the cold toast on the plate in front of him.

Seb was silent for a minute before walking over to the light switch near the doorway and flicking the big light off but leaving the softer light near the stove on. He walked back over to the table slowly. 

“I won’t call anyone, Max, but it would make me feel better if you stayed through Monday night. You really shouldn’t be alone.”

Max bit into his toast. He chewed on Seb’s words. 

“Fine, but if Kimi threatens to call my dad again, then I’m calling Danny.”

“He won’t. I promise.”

Max took another bite of his toast. 

Seb went back to the stove. When he reappeared a couple minutes later he set an ice pack and a cup of tea down in front of Max. “Drink this, please. When it’s empty you can go lay down again.” 

Max nodded without looking up. When he took a sip he tasted lemon and honey and eucalyptus. Seb’s own concoction no doubt. 

 

After most of the mug was gone and the icepack had been resting against Max’s eye for ten minutes, Max heard a door upstairs slam and then two sets of feet coming down the stairs. He felt his body tense at the intrusion of sound in the otherwise quiet house. 

Seb stood up quickly, “It’s okay, Max, I’ll send them away.”

Seb moved quickly to the entrance of the kitchen and used his body to block the doorway. “Lando, Oscar, why don’t you wait in the living room and I’ll bring you some breakfast?”

“Nah, Dad, you don’t have to do that. We were just gonna grab toast and then…Is that… Max?” Lando stopped suddenly at the base of the stairs.

“Yes, it is. Your father is in the living room. Why don’t you go say hi to him and I’ll bring you pancakes in a bit.”

Lando must’ve heard the lack of a request in Seb’s voice because Lando only looked confused for a moment before shrugging and nodding. He turned and said “Pops! Wanna see my new high score in FIFA?”

Max could hear the smile in Kimi’s voice when he said, “Bwoah, there is no way you beat mine! We’ll have to see if you’re any good against a real soccer player.”

Oscar didn’t move to follow Lando. Seb watched as the younger boy’s eyebrow arched over his right eye when he saw Max in the kitchen past Seb’s poor attempt at blocking the view. 

“Why is he here?” Oscar said curtly.

“Oscar, why don’t you join them in the living room?”

“Why is he here ? Is he here to get me? To take me back? Lando and I have plans today.”

Max turned to look at the doorway and Oscar’s eyes widened. “Shit.” 

Oscar pushed past Seb and strode into the kitchen directly up to Max. The older boy stood quickly and tried to back away but was cornered against the table by the younger. 

“Who did that?” Oscar didn’t attempt to reach out and touch Max. He knew better. Instead he crowded into his personal space just enough to make the other uncomfortable.

Seb walked slowly back into the kitchen so as not to spook either of them. “Oscar, maybe give Max a little space. He’s a bit shaken.”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed, “How much did you win?”

Max worked his jaw but didn’t respond. 

“How much did you lose?”

“I didn’t lose.” The words seemed to burst out involuntarily.

“How much?”

Oscar crossed his arms.

Max set the ice pack down on the table and Oscar winced at the sight of the deep purple and black bruising painted across Max’s right eye and temple.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming here.” Max said softly.

“I thought me not coming home would be enough of a clue.”

“You’re supposed to tell me.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, “Pretty sure the phone works both ways. Were you gonna call or did you just hustle all night and wait for me to not come home?”

“I would’ve called if you weren’t home by close.”

“So the second one.”

A muscle in Max’s jaw ticked, but he stayed silent.

“You obviously didn’t call at close cause that would’ve been 1:00 AM last night, so something else happened…”

Max was silent.

“How. Much.” Oscar drew out the syllables.

Max turned to Seb, “Can you give us a minute?”

Seb looked between them and then nodded. “I’ll just be in the living room if you need me. Try not to yell, please, it isn’t good for your concussion.

Oscar scoffed, “Fucking unbelievable.”

“You too, Oscar. Your brother needs to rest. I’ll give you ten minutes and then he should go back to sleep.”

Oscar rolled his eyes and crossed his arms but nodded when he saw Seb wasn’t going to leave until he got confirmation that Oscar was listening. 

Seb left and Max could hear him greet Lando and Kimi in the living room. 

Oscar stayed where he was in Max’s space. 

“You gonna back up or are we going to have this whole conversation one foot from my face?”

Oscar glared but took half a step back. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough for Max to drop his shoulders and loosen his grip on the table behind him. 

Oscar raised his eyebrows and waited. 

“It wasn’t that much money, okay? They just got a little…rowdy.”

Oscar’s glare sharpened. “They?”

Max swallowed. “You know I’m not allowed to talk to you about this. Why do you keep bringing it up?”

“Because someone has to Max. For fuck’s sake, how many guys did you piss off yesterday? Does Dad know? Does Danny know? I mean who was there yesterday that did this ?”

Max took a deep breath. He wasn’t mad at Oscar and he had to keep reminding himself. If he kept redirected all of the anger sparking under the surface of his skin at the younger boy then he would never be any better than Jos. 

Max sat down. He didn’t want his body to react to fight or flight. He just wanted to talk. 

“I don’t want to fight with you, Os. I really don’t.” He worked his jaw only once before finally deciding to lean all the way in. “I’m sorry about what I said the other day. I know you’ve been upset since then and I really didn’t mean to get so… mean. I promise you’ve never ruined my birthday. I don’t know why I said that… I just wanted you to… I don’t know. I just needed you to listen.”

Max looked up at Oscar who stood with his arms crossed and his eyes wary of where this was going.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you about what goes on in the bar because Jos… Dad, doesn’t want you to get in trouble if people ask questions they shouldn’t.”

“I–”

“—Just let me finish, okay?”

Oscar nodded once. 

“But I also think he doesn’t want you involved because then I have no ally in this. I’m all alone.”

Max had practiced this speech in the rain the week before and had fine tuned his thoughts over the week as Oscar ignored him on every car ride to and from school. He finally had a willing audience to the words rattling around in his bruised skull.

 “Everyone hates that I do this. That I play these stupid games for him. As if I have a choice. As if I ever had a choice in any of this.”

Oscar grumbled, “You literally like it.” He said under his breath.

Max wasn’t having it. “Of course I like it, Oscar! It’s the only thing I’m good at.” He stood up and began to pace the length of the kitchen. “It’s the only thing I’m good for. Without pool… without those stupid tables and those stupid games… Without the…the rush of sinking the eight ball and the quiet stretch of a breath where everything is perfect and no one wants me to do anything… be anything… Without all of that…I mean who am I? What am I?” Max looked over at his pseudo younger brother with tears in his eyes, “If I don’t like it, then what does it mean that he’s forced me to do it for ten years? That I’ve let him?”

Oscar's mouth opened slightly but he seemed unable to find a thought.

Max just shook his head. “I don’t have a single fucking person that supports me. You don’t, Danny doesn’t, Seb and Kimi don’t.” He gestured to the house around him. “Dad sure fucking doesn’t. There isn’t a single person in my life right now that doesn’t want something from me or wants me to change or wants me to stand up to Jos in a way I just can’t do. And. That. Fucking. Sucks.”

Oscar swallowed hard. 

“It fucking sucks, Os.” 

Max paused and wiped his face before crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“I’m not asking you to forgive me for what I said to you the other day. It was unwarranted and shitty. What I’m asking for, is that if you’re gonna be an ally, then you have to be on my side. If I tell you the truth, then you have to be okay with the truth.” Max gestured to his face, “Because it isn’t pretty, Oscar. So if you’re in this, then you’re in this. And if you’re not… well then I’m gonna need you to stop demanding I tell you shit, cause if Jos finds out I told you literally anything , this bruise,” another gesture to his face, “is gonna look like watercolors compared to what he does when he’s actually angry.”

Max clamped his mouth shut on the last line. That last part he hadn’t practiced and he didn’t like hearing it out loud. It was a little too real. He hoped Seb and Kimi hadn’t heard him.

Oscar uncrossed his arms and surged forward. Max braced himself but was still surprised when the younger boy wrapped his arms around him. 

“I’m sorry.” Oscar whispered into Max’s shoulder. “I’m sorry for trying to sneak out on your birthday. I’m sorry I yelled at you and called you selfish and… I’m sorry about your dad. He fucking sucks.” 

Oscar pulled back and looked up at Max with red rimmed eyes. “I know how shitty he gets near your birthday and I’m just… I’m sorry.”

Max pulled him back in for a hug. Oscar smelled like clean laundry and Lando’s weird coconut shampoo. 

They stayed like that for another minute until Max let go.

Oscar stepped back and looked at Max’s face. “Dad’s… Jos—”

“—You can call him whatever you want, really. It doesn’t matter.”

Oscar nodded once then looked down at his hands and then back up at Max’s face as if searching for a sign that Max was lying to him. 

“Dad’s in Atlanta, Max.” Max nodded. Oscar continued, “So, who did this?” He tipped his head at Max’s face. 

Max stared at Oscar. He thought about diverting. He thought about what it would mean to let Oscar in. Even though he had just given this impassioned (and very practiced) speech, Max knew that he could still refuse this. 

But then where would they be? How would he ever let Oscar in if he couldn’t be honest with him? 

He took a deep breath. 

“You’re in this with me?”

Oscar nodded. “I’ve been in this with you since the day Jos signed the paperwork. You’re actually pretty stuck with me.” A small smirk found its way to Oscar’s face and Max mirrored him. 

Max chuckled softly, “Yeah. I guess I am.” He shook his head. “You’re not the worst person to be stuck with.” A bigger smile. “I kinda prefer you over everyone else.”

Oscar laughed, “Yeah. I think literally everyone knows that.”

 

Max took a deep breath. “So… here’s the deal… I won $16,000 last night.”

Notes:

Your comments mean the world to me and I read everyone's like four or five times until they sink in and the butterflies fly away.
Thanks for reading and for letting this busy author give you random updates throughout the summer

Until next time,
G

Chapter 11: The Sea Below & The Silence Between (The Hanged Man)

Summary:

Charles POV

Notes:

Is this late?
Who's to say...
(Me, me is to say)
What is time anyway...

Updates: Job is over for the summer, devastating blow for Charles today in Hungary (RIP), and I have the next two chapters finished :) so updates shall be punctual on Wednesdays (next week and the following)

Until we meet again,
G.

 

“When I see you, the whole world reduces / To just that room”

-Don’t Delete The Kisses, Wolf Alice

 

The smell of saltwater wafted into Charles’ nose as he looked out toward a bay that was covered in whitecaps. Wind-swept sand pelted against his legs as dark clouds swirled overhead. He sat on a towel underneath a red and white umbrella that the gust threatened to whisk away at any moment. However, Charles remained still. His eyes were trained on a bouncing yellow object out to sea that was now nearing the edge of his vision thanks to the rapidly-deteriorating conditions.

The yellow dot was a small sailboat that Charles had seen sailing in the bay all morning. The boat had dropped their sails once the rough weather started rolling in, but now it bounced up and down as the surf went from calm to choppy. Within minutes, Charles could hardly see the boat, save for a few faint lights emitting from below deck. The sun above was not almost entirely blocked out by dark, angry clouds that continued to shower the sea and shore with a deluge of cold, harsh rain.

A bolt of lightning shot down from the sky and lit up the oily blackness ahead of Charles, landing squarely on the mast of the small yellow ship. For a brief moment, the vessel was engulfed in radiant light as bright as a clear summer day. It was not long, however, before tendrils of bright red flames began to dance across the ship’s deck. Charles let out a shout as he rose from his place on the beach and looked around to see if anyone was around who could help.

The beach was deserted, save for Charles.

He ran down the shore and leapt into the water. His arms and legs pushed himself forward as waves crashed against his face. His body rose and fell along the current’s crests. As the water brought him to a peak, he was able to see the boat. It was moving closer with the current, but the waves’ growing strength concurrently pulled Charles toward the shore and made it harder for him to push forward. Shadowed figures stood on the small deck, their frames backlit by the flames and enveloped by the smoke and rain. Charles thought he could hear screams, but the howling wind ensured that their pleas never reached his ears.

Charles tried to push forward, but the wind and current continued to grow stronger. His muscles ached and he paused for a brief moment to try and catch his breath. The sea rocked him up and down as belts of rain pelted his face. It was getting harder and harder to see the ship as the spray got harsher against his face. The smoke that it emitted, while certainly a haunting, helpful guide in clear conditions, merely melted into the grayness of the stormy sky.

The waves and rain continued to wash across Charles’ face. It had been several minutes since he first entered the water and he was tired. He felt pressure against his chest as the cold of the bay sucked the warmth from his body. Although Charles had stopped trying to swim toward the boat, it had drifted closer toward him.

He could hear the occupants’ voices now. They were calling out his name, but he had no idea who they were. Although the ship was the closest it had been—maybe a dozen meters—its imperiled passengers were still shrouded in smoke and shadow.

“Charles…”

“Charles…”

The ship grew larger in Charles’ vision as it continued to drift closer. Suddenly, it was right beside him, its deck several meters above his head as the boat continued to jostle from side to side. The voices continued, their pleas turning to near-shouts.

“Charles!”
“Charles!”

Water crashed harder against his face as panic set into his mind. The ship moved closer and closer. Charles tried to swim so he could look for a ladder or some other way to climb up the boat, but it was no use. His arms and legs were spent. All he could do was use what little energy he still had to stay afloat, his head turned up toward the hull.

A moment or two later, the hull bumped against his shoulder, sending him reeling sideways. The voices shouted his name.

“CHARLES!”

His eyes shot open.

Charles was in his bed in Lorenzo and Jules’ apartment. Tigrou sat on his chest, licking his face which was now damp with a mixture of cat saliva and sweat. Lorenzo stood next to Charles at the side of his bed. The older brother’s arm was on Charles’ shoulder.

“ Joyeux anniversaire , Charles! You were out cold there—you’re running late for school. Go hop in the shower, I’ll cook up some birthday breakfast for you.”

Charles muttered a groggy thanks as Lorenzo left his room. He rolled toward his nightstand and grabbed his phone before holding it up toward his face.

October 16

Charles’ seventeenth birthday.

Still holding his phone in his right hand, he moved his left up to this face to wipe the sleep out of his eyes.

His home screen showed a series of notifications that had come in throughout the night, mainly missed calls and texts from friends and family back in Monaco. He quickly scrolled through the well wishes and happy birthdays and found texts from Arthur and his mother in their family group chat.

Charles hearted their messages and wrote a short reply telling them that he’d try to call between school and practice. After he sent that message a voice called out from the kitchen.

“Charles, come on reuf ! You’re already running late! In America, even birthday boys have to go to school, no?”

Another voice, Jules’, offered a reply over the loud sizzling of what must have been eggs hitting the heat of a stovetop pan. “Haha, this is a good one, Lorenzo. A tradition like that sounds just like Charles. No wonder how quickly he has taken to America!”

Charles groaned and pulled himself out of bed. Tigrou leapt off of the bed and wandered toward the smell of fresh food as Charles gathered up some clean clothes and shuffled to the bathroom. He was showered, dressed, and back outside the bathroom within ten minutes. Slight drops of water fell off of his hair and onto the floor below and steam billowed out of the bathroom. Moments after he had opened the door, Jules passed by Charles and entered the bathroom himself.

Just as Jules was about to close the door, he turned and spoke to Charles.

“Happy Birthday, Charles. Seventeen already! You’re getting old, kid!”

Charles smiled and waited until Jules started to close the door to reply.

“Well, I’ll always be younger than you, old man!”

He heard a light chuckle from the other side of the door that was quickly drowned out by the creak of the shower’s faucet and the rushing of water. Charles turned away and walked toward the beckoning smell of bacon and eggs.

 

–

 

Brrrrrrrriiiiinnnngggggg

The sound of the end-of-period bell assaulted Charles’ ears as the scraping of thirty chairs against the floor clashed with his Statistics teacher’s final notes to the class.

“Remember, class, to read chapters four through six and do the problems by the next time we meet. It’s really important that everyone comes to class prepared so that we can all be engaged in the discussion. Isn’t that right, Mr. Norris?”

That snapped the rest of the class, some of whom were already halfway out the door, back to attention. Charles turned in his seat to see Lando standing up by his desk, his face as red as a tomato and white as a ghost at the same time.

“Uhh… Yes, Mrs. Wolff. I’ll be sure to uhh… read all of those chapters.”

He paused for a moment. The whole room stared in silence. Although only a few seconds passed, it felt like minutes to Charles. He couldn’t imagine what was going through Lando’s mind.

“...What…what were the chapters again, Mrs. Wolff?”

Their teacher stood at her desk, resolute. She paused for a moment, looking at Lando and his peers. She didn’t smile—Charles had only seen her do that once or twice during his time here so far—but she also did not seem upset. After a few seconds, she offered her reply.

“All of you are excused. Lando, if you could stay after for a moment, please? I would like to speak to you briefly. I promise you won’t be late for your next class.”

As soon as her final syllable left her lips, pretty much everyone moved as fast as they could to get out of that room. Charles packed his things, helped Lance get his backpack on, and started to walk with Lance to the doorway. They were two of the last to leave and by the time they reached the door, Lando was standing in front of Mrs. Wolff’s desk, but he could not hear anything that they were saying. Once he and Lance exited the room, Mrs. Wolff got up from her desk and closed the door behind them.

“Well, rough day to be Lando, eh?”

Charles turned to Lance who was leaning forward on his crutches.

“Yeah, I guess so. I think it is good that he didn’t really get yelled at, right? What do you think she’s saying to him? Have you ever seen that before?”

Lance had been looking around the busy hallway but turned back to Charles.

“Hmm… nah, I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that. Who knows, ya know? C’mon, let’s get on with it.”

He turned and started hobbling down the hallway. Charles turned for a moment to glance back at the classroom before following Lance down the hallway. He caught up to the injured kicker pretty quickly and the pair walked silently for a few moments before Charles spoke up.

“We have a big game tomorrow, no? Some of the guys said that we lose to this team every year. Do you know the last time we beat them?”

Lance turned his head but continued shuffling down the hall.

“Well, we almost beat them last year. I had a chance to win it at the end on a 44-yarder, but I couldn’t tuck it in—sent it wide right. Ugh, I can still feel that one. It came off my cleat wrong, I knew it was a dud immediately…”

He looked down the hall ahead of them and continued.

“Maybe a decade or so by now? My dad would know—no, my dad knows —but he doesn’t make a big deal about it. At least in front of me or the team, I guess. You see, an old high school buddy of his is the head coach. They’ve been rivals for as long as my dad’s been on the sideline.”

“Hmm… I see. I guess it is nice that he has not yet really put pressure on you in that way, yes?”

Lance’s eyes met Charles’. His mouth was open and Charles could see the wisps of words bubbling forth from it, but Lance quickly shut his mouth and continued walking down the hall.

“Yeah, it’s good, especially for the team. We all think we have a shot at States this year. Any extra pressure would just be a distraction and could mess us up.”

They walked the rest of the way toward their next class in silence. Lance was generally a pretty quiet guy, at least as far as the rest of the students here went, but he’d been nice to Charles so far. Charles didn’t mind the silence or the longer walk to P.E..

As they got to the door of the gym, Lance tapped Charles on the shoulder and whispered to him.

“Thanks for helping me with all this, man. I really appreciate it. My bag, walking with me. You’re a cool guy. Look, I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but we’re having a party after the game over at my place. It’ll be pretty chill and lowkey, the team will be there, obviously, and my parents will be around to chaperone. They mostly just stay upstairs though and watch a movie or something. It would be super cool if you could come through. Feel free to bring an extra person if you want. You’re not dating anyone, are you?”

Charles shook his head.

“Well, alright, definitely try to come by, ok? We’ll probably start around 9:00 or so? The game starts at 5:30, probably over by 8:00… yeah, 9:00. I’ll text you my address.”

Charles smiled in thanks before entering the locker room. The start-of-period bell would ring at any moment and they still all needed to change before they could start. Obviously, Lando was still missing.

So much for making sure that he would be on time to his next class.

Charles moved over toward his locker. As he turned to set his stuff down, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise up. He calmly looked around the room as he went to sit down, and as his head reached the area over his right shoulder, he could have sworn he saw a pair of blue eyes dart away from almost meeting his and immediately looking down at the bench between them.

Yeah… I think I’ll go to that party.

 

—

 

Charles FaceTimed with Arthur and his mother during the break between the end of the school day and the start of practice. They wished him a happy birthday and told him all about the latest happenings back home. Arthur’s birthday was two days before Charles’, so he told Charles all about what he and his friends had done to celebrate before going off to bed. Maman stayed on the phone a little bit longer. It had been a couple of weeks since they last spoke, so Charles gave her some deep (or at least deep for him) updates on everything that was going on in Abilene.

He told her about his classes and school. She asked him whether he was making friends. He talked about the football team and their game tomorrow. She asked him if everyone was treating him nicely. He wanted to talk about all of the people he’d met, one person in particular, but it was almost time for practice, so he wished her goodnight and hung up.

Practice went just as well as it did every Thursday. It was an easier day due to Friday’s game. Coach Stroll had each of the coordinators run through the offensive and defensive gameplans with their units while he volleyed—drove—between the two halves of the field. While the teams were doing that, Charles, Oscar, and Lance were on the sidelines because there wasn’t an open goalpost to practice kicks on. Oscar and Charles alternated kicking into the net. Charles obviously let Oscar take more kicks, but every time it was Charles’ turn, Oscar made sure to give him advice when he saw anything awry. Lance spoke up a couple of times as well—more than he had in their previous sideline sessions—and that gave Charles confidence that Lance and him were growing closer.

Eventually, once the coordinators were done with their walkthrough of the gameplans, practice evolved into no-contact 11 on 11 so that the offense could run through their main set of plays. There still wasn’t much for Oscar and Charles to do, but Coach Stroll let Oscar take live practice kicks when the offense made it far enough into an evolution to warrant it. Charles just kept kicking into the net. Even after a few weeks of practice, kicking an American Football still felt weird. He didn’t think he would ever be truly comfortable with it. Which made it more intimidating every time he saw Oscar trot out there during a game. He was always so calm and collected, no matter the distance—no matter the situation. For a kid who was younger than Charles and even younger than Arthur, Charles was impressed at his ease. He wondered if there was anything that could phase Max’s little brother. If there was, it wasn’t within one hundred miles of the football field.

At ten-till-six, Coach Stroll blew his whistle to call an all-team huddle. He climbed out of his golf cart as the team surrounded him in a semi-circle. Charles stood near the back while the players who were closer got down onto one knee.

“Alright, boys, good work out there today. You’ve done all that you can to prepare for the game tomorrow, so the hay’s in the barn. Go home, have a good dinner, get some good rest, and wake up tomorrow ready to win, okay? Alex, what is everyone wearing to school tomorrow? Your call, Captain.”
The quarterback, kneeling in the middle of the huddle right in front of his coach, replied: “Ties and button downs, sir.”

There were a few slight groans from the huddle, but they died down quickly as Alex and the other captains surveyed the group. Coach continued speaking.

“Good, good. I’ll see you all in the locker room. Good night everyone. Alex, it’s your huddle.”

As their coach strolled away back to golf cart, Alex brought them in and, after offering a few more words of encouragement and reminding everyone about tomorrow’s uniforms, finished the huddle with a “Team on 3.” 

“1…2…3…Team!”

 

Charles hung around the locker room a little longer than usual. It’s not that he didn’t want to go home necessarily, he just wasn’t really sure what we wanted to do. All of his homework for tomorrow was done—he had finally figured out how to actually use his study hall for its intended purpose—and he wasn’t really doing anything to celebrate his birthday tonight because he had plans with Jules and Lorenzo over the weekend when they’d both be off work.

So, Charles took his sweet time changing out of his practice clothes and back into street clothes.

Once he put his pads and helmet back into his locker and closed it up, he dropped anything that had to be washed into the large wheeled hamper by the sinks and moved toward the door. As he walked through the locker room doors and turned down the hallway toward the exit of the athletics wing, he saw Oscar several feet ahead of him.

Charles sped his pace up slightly to try and catch up with him, but his footsteps must have been louder because Oscar turned around while Charles was still a few feet away.

“Hey, Charles, you in a hurry or something?”

Charles slowed down and continued walking toward Oscar.

“Haha, no. I just wanted to walk out with you. Thank you for your help at practice, and really in general. I know I’m still quite bad, but it’s fun learning this thing—kicking an American football.”

Oscar chuckled slightly, his head facing forward again, his gait permanently determined.

“You’re welcome, Charles. It’s a tough thing, and you’ve really picked it up quite well. Maybe later in the season or something, Coach’ll be confident enough in you to put you up for an extra point or something. You’re only here for a year right? Not a lot of time to make your mark!”

A small pit started to form in Charles’ stomach. It was one that he had not yet noticed before. 

I really am only here for a year, no? I have thought about this, yes, but… 

“I, uh, well… we’ll see about that. I don’t want to take an opportunity from you to impress the… uh… recruteur universitaire …what do you call them in English? The people who come to the games from the universities?”

“Scouts… the scouts are the ones you’re thinking about.”

Charles felt dumb for forgetting such a simple word, but he still caught the confliction that rested on each of Oscar’s words. It was quiet between the two of them for a moment, but Oscar re-started the conversation just as they made it to the door that led out toward the parking lot.

“Well, good work today, Charles. Tomorrow will be a good game, I think. A tough one, but a good one.”

“Yes, everyone has said that this team is tough. I hope we win, though!”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

The pair made it into the parking lot and Oscar started walking toward a dark blue pickup truck that nearly blended into the night, save for its faded but still shining headlights.

Oscar turned as he climbed into the truck.

“See you tomorrow, Charles!”

The engine turned over and started humming as Charles turned away. He normally took the late bus home, but as he looked around, it wasn’t in the bus loop. When he looked down at his watch, he realized he had missed it.

Merde! Idiot! I’ll have to walk back.

He turned toward the main street that the school fronted. Before he took more than a couple of steps, however, he heard the electric whir of a window being rolled down. Then he heard a voice shout over to him.

“Charles, do you need a ride?”

“Uhhh. No, but I’m going to walk. I’ll be fine.”

I can’t take a ride from him. And surely he has to get back to the bar as quickly as possible. He’ll just drive away. He doesn’t actually care about me. My apartment’s on the other side of town, after all. He won’t go out of his way, that’s not who he—

“No shot, dummy, climb in the back. You’ve got to keep your legs fresh for tomorrow.”

Without thinking any further, Charles nodded and slung his backpack up into the bed of the truck and climbed in over the tailgate as if he had been doing it all his life. When he sat down with his back against the divider between the cab and the bed, he tapped the glass a couple of times and Max set off.

It was late by the time that Charles made it back to Lorenzo and Jules’ apartment. Both of them were still up—watching some TV in the living room—but Charles quickly went past them and into his room after receiving another final round of birthday wishes. 

He laid his head down on his pillow excited for what tomorrow might have in store for him.

—

 

The game was going better than anyone could have predicted. The clock had just ticked over into the fourth quarter and the score was 28-7 with the Eagles on top. Everything was coming to them easy so far tonight. Alex had a perfect completion percentage, the rushing game was strong, and the defense was absolutely suffocating their rivals. 

The Eagles were on offense again—Liam had intercepted a wildly errant pass on the 40 yard line—and as Charles looked around at the unit that was trotting out to set up shop, he didn’t see Alex’s number 23 jersey out there leading the offense. Just as he started to look down the sidelines to see if Alex was hurt, Lance, who was propped up next to him, spoke up.

“It looks like Coach has put in the backups. Makes sense, we’re up by so much and he can always put the starters back in if we start giving up points.”

Charles turned to face him.

“I forget that you all have unlimited substitutions in this game. It’ll be fun to see how the sophomores do!”

“Yeah… I guess it will be. It doesn’t happen much, obviously, so we’ll see. Who knows, maybe… other backups will get to take a snap.”

It took a second for Charles’ brain to process what Lance had said, but his jaw dropped and he lightly punched Lance on the shoulder.

“No, this would not happen. I have only played football for a month now. I am not ready for this and Coach knows that. Besides, what about Oscar?”

Lance smirked.

“What about Alex? He’s playing for All-State recognition and Coach still pulled him—because he’s too good . He doesn’t have anything to prove against a beaten and battered opponent. Same with Oscar. If Coach thinks you’re ready, then you’re ready. Trust me.”

Charles felt his hands start to get slick. He looked over at Oscar who was squatting down on the sidelines, watching the action. Ever so serious. Ever so focused.

“I don’t… no… I mean…”

They’ll see me miss and fail and I’ll look like an idiot. I’ll look like the stupid Monegasque idiot who thought he could come to America and fit in by playing football. Lando will see me fail, and George probably. All of my teammates, and—

He felt a hand touch his shoulder.

It was just Lance.

“Look, A. It might not even happen, and B. If it does, you make it or you miss it and in two weeks, especially in a game like this, you’ll be the only person who remembers it. And, hey, if you miss it you will remember it for a while, but that’s okay. That’s the job.”

“You remember the kick from last year, Lance. That seems like a long time.” 

Lance winced. “Yeah. Yeah I do, but I should really let that one go. It’s just… it’s hard when you want it so bad. Ya know?”

Charles did know. He wanted to not mess up. He wanted it very badly

 

Charles lost track of the game after that. He was stuck in his own head and couldn’t really watch what was going on around him. A loud whistle broke through his thoughts and a series of groans emitted from the crowd. He looked toward the line of scrimmage and saw the ball bouncing at one of the sophomore receiver’s feet. An incomplete pass. Charles turned his head toward the down marker on the sidelines. The official changed it from a 3 to a 4. The Eagles were still 6 or 7 yards from the line to gain. 

His heart started racing. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Seconds later, he heard a voice bellow along the sideline as every head turned to face him.

“Leclerc, you’re up kid! Go get us three!”

A cheer erupted from the Eagles bench.

Charles felt his knees start to wobble as he slid his helmet on and fasted the chin strap. Lance slapped him on the back and Oscar trotted over to do the same.

“Go get ‘em, Charles. Remember what we’ve practiced. Keep it simple, kick through the ball, and watch it all the way in. It looks like a 25 to 30 yarder. You can hit those all day. You’ve got this.”

Charles offered a shaky reply.

“But… you should kick this, Oscar. Just to make sure, no? I can… I can get the next one.”

Oscar laughed “As much as I’d like a layup, Coach called your number and he makes the rules. You’re ready, Charles. Show us how it’s done.”

Oscar slapped the top of his helmet and gave him a light shove out onto the field. The blocking unit was out there, as well as Logan, who would be holding the ball for Charles’ kick. 

His heart was pounding and his vision started to get narrow. He couldn’t hear anything from the crowd behind him, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to. He made it to the huddle and they closed up to surround him.

“Uhhh…”

Logan spoke up.

“It’s on your count, Charles. Whenever you’re ready, you’ll give me a slight nod. Then I’ll signal for the snap. I’ll get it, place it, and then you’ll send it home. Everyone ready? Break us, Chuck.”

Chuck? 

“Oh, uh, break!”

Everyone clapped their hands together and the huddle broke, all of the players fanning out to their respective positions. Charles approached his mark. He felt like he was walking through mud.

How much of an idiot am I for thinking I can do this? In front of all of these people? They are all going to be watching me fail. 

No. I won’t drown tonight. I’m stronger than this. 

But he’s here. And he’ll see me. Whether I succeed or fail. Why does he have to be here?

Well… Oscar… 

Charles adamantly didn’t look into the stands.

Why are you thinking about this now? You have a job to do. Just do it and then you can go home.

The linemen were set. Logan rested on one knee, his head turned toward Charles. 

“Bring us home, Chuck.”

Charles took one deep breath. Then a second. 

You will not drown. 

He nodded and time slowed around him. 

One heart beat. Thud.

Two heart beats. Thud.

Three heart beats. Thud.

When Charles regained his senses, the ball was sailing up over the line—a good start.

He watched it arc up then start to fall down. It looked like it was going wide, a second or two later, a loud CLANG sounded through the stadium as the ball hit the upright and sailed past it.

He looked at the officials beneath the goalposts. They looked at each other and nodded before holding their hands up to signal a successful field goal.

Putain de merde… 

Roars erupted from the sidelines and the stands. There were still several minutes left in the game, but he felt himself get lifted up by some of the linemen. 

Logan screamed, “Hell yeah, Chuck!”

He was carried back to the sidelines as the team and the crowd chanted “Chuck! Chuck! Chuck!”

The rest of the game passed quickly and Charles couldn’t even have paid attention to what was happening if he wanted to. Every other second a new teammate came over to congratulate him and laugh about the deflected goal.

Whoever Chuck was, he was a pretty good kicker.

 

—

 

Charles washed the grime of the football game off of him. The sweat and grass gurgled slowly down the rusting drain. The soap in the locker room room was abhorrent and scentless, so Charles brought his own from home a couple weeks ago. And of course, Lando had tried to steal it immediately even though his coconut monstrosity was all anyone ever talked about.

Charles showered quickly, grabbed a towel, and stepped over to the wooden benches that line the locker room walls. He changed into jeans, a T-shirt, and a red sweatshirt—his normal attire. Lance had already left to set up the party, but he said everyone was welcome as soon as they were done, so Charles went as quickly as he was able. There was too much pent up excitement rattling around in his body to go slow. 

While Oscar and Lando were still getting dressed, Charles waved at them and walked out of the locker room. Outside, the stadium lights still shone brightly down on the yellowing grass and garish green turf. As he made his way out of the building Charles spotted Jules and Danny on one side of the sidewalk laughing with each other and Max and his father on the other. Charles didn’t know what to do. 

Should I wait for Max to finish talking with his dad? Should I go over to Danny and Jules and hear their congratulations? Should I go back in the locker room and find Oscar and Lando to know the plan for the party or should I just stand here and think and wait and hope someone sees me and tells me where to go? 

Luckily the choice was made for him. Max’s dad stormed off in the direction of the parking lot and left Max standing there looking lost—looking almost as lost as Charles felt. Charles took a step over the dying yellow grass towards Max as Max kicked at the ground. Charles tried to wonder what happened between the game and now to make the other boy upset, but he was distracted by the glow casting down on Max from the stadium lights above. His blonde hair looked lighter, his jaw seemed sharper, his eyes seemed brighter. Charles doesn’t know what it was about the lights from the field, but something about them gave Max’s face somewhat of a halo. 

Charles couldn’t help but stare like the first time he saw Max at a football game. He mentioned it to Jules on the way home in passing about how Max looked brighter in the lights off the field, but Jules had just laughed and given him a knowing look. 

“Max!” Charles said as he stepped closer to the other boy. 

Max turned and his face lit up at the sight of Charles.

“Charles, that was a hell of a kick! Congratulations!”

“Oh, thank you. It was… nothing. But also it was really… cool! I can’t believe Coach finally let me out. I thought for sure it would be another one of Oscar’s. Your brother is so impressive. He is so young and so confident. I was so nervous out there. I don’t know how he does it. Your dad must be so proud.”

A hush came over Max‘s features and Charles didn’t know what he said to worry the other boy. Maybe something about Oscar?

“Yeah, he’s proud.” Max shook his head, “but really that was a great kick. You should be proud. You didn’t look nervous at all!”

Charles could feel himself blush and brought his hand up to the back of his neck as warmth shoots through his face. Hopefully it was just an after effect of the game. 

Max continued, “Are the other two behind you somewhere? Oscar asked me to drive all of us so I guess everyone's piling in my truck.”

“Yeah, Lando and Oscar were getting changed when I left.”

“There he is!” Jules ran up and scooped Charles into his arms. “My American football star player! Lorenzo will be so upset he missed this game! I took a video and sent it to him, of course, but still I wish he was here.”

“Jules! Jules put me down!” Charles laughed as his feet found the ground again.

“Charlie, look at you go you’re practically a red hot blooded Texan out here!” Daniel chimed in.

“Oh, there they are!” Max said, tipping his head. Charles turned to find Oscar and Lando walking out of the locker room. Lando had his arm slung over Oscar and Charles suddenly remembered that Lando wasn’t even on the football team and could probably change in a different locker room, but almost always managed to be in theirs following every game. He turned to ask Max about it, but Max wasn’t standing there anymore. He had walked over to Oscar and given him a hug. 

Charles watched as Lando shifted away from the pair and Oscar stiffened at the contact but then melted into it as he reciprocated the hug. Max leaned over and whispered something in Oscar’s ear that made the other boy furrow his eyebrows and then he nodded slowly. 

“Chuck! What a goal!” Lando clasped Charles on the back and shook him from his staring contest with the two brothers. 

“Who is Chuck? What is Chuck ?” Charles asked.

But Lando just laughed, “You is Chuck, dummy! It’s a nickname for Charles.” 

“No, no it is not.” 

Lando practically bent over from laughing, “Oh, Charlie, you’re not in Kansas anymore, are ya?”

“Lando, what are you talking about? We are in Texas. I have never even been to Kansas.”

But Lando just kept laughing.

 

–

 

As Max parked the truck on the grassy area in front of Lance‘s house, Charles finally understood what the other guys on the team meant when they said Coach was in the oil business. He wasn’t quite sure which oil company Coach worked for (or ran, or directed), but this house made all the other houses in the area look like shacks in comparison. It made Lorenzo’s three bedroom apartment look like an office. It was at least three stories high and was on at least ten hectares of land and when Charles stepped out of the truck, he noticed the grass here was green. The dew clung to his white sneakers and he realized Oscar, Lando, and Max were all wearing boots. 

“I hope his stepmother doesn’t come downstairs this year.” Lando said as he hopped down from the truck bed. He landed with a thud as he hit the grass and Oscar jumped down next to him a second later. 

“Last year, Charles, she came down and tried to do shots with us. She’s like 32, but, god, she thinks she’s 21.” 

Oscar smacked Lando on the back of the head. “Don’t be rude, Lando. This is her house too.” 

Lando snickered, “No it’s Coach’s house. He divorced Lance’s mom so he could marry somebody half his age. That doesn’t make this her house.” 

Oscar smacked Lando on the back of the head again and Lando moved away from him and closer to Charles. “Don’t let Lance hear you.”

They were still a few meters away from the front door, but Charles thought Oscar was right. It would be a huge faux pas if Lance heard Lando disparaging his new mom in his home. 

Max side-eyed the two other boys, but didn’t make a comment. He just walked closer to the house as the three of them followed behind him. Charles noticed he seemed stiff like he was uncomfortable, but maybe he was just nervous. They had chatted quietly in the car ride on the way here after picking up Whataburger. Meanwhile Oscar and Lando had laughed the whole time in the truck bed, cracking jokes, throwing fries at each other, shoving, and telling Max to drive faster. But Max kept to a minimal speed and told them both to sit down anytime they tried to get up. At one point he said, “I’ll turn this car around,” but there was no heat behind it.

Charles could hear the music before they even got to the front door. The base of the drum was thumping so loudly he could feel the vibrations in his chest. 

Lando looked over at Charles and said, “I hope you’re ready for your first American party Chuck. This is about to be epic.” Oscar rolled his eyes and opened the front door.

Before Charles could follow them in, Max whispered, “Don’t drink what he gives you and I promise you won’t throw up.”

Charles smiled. He didn’t know about epic but it sure was loud once the front door was open. It was impossible to hear himself think over the music. The speaker system in the living room was as impressive as it was loud and the base was thumping and jostling practically half the downstairs. 

Max tried to say something, but over the rush of the music, Charles couldn’t hear him. 

“What was that?” 

Max shook his head and grabbed Charles’ wrist to pull him toward the kitchen. 

Charles felt himself grow warm at the touch, but it was dark in the living room with only the dimmer lights on. He shook his head to try to get the flush off his cheeks but Max switched to holding onto his hand a second later instead of his wrist and Max’s hand was warm where it held his. Charles' breath stuttered and his heart fluttered in his chest. 

He’s–he’s– 

Max pulled Charles through a doorway into a formal dining room. There was a football player that Charles didn’t know, making out with a cheerleader in the corner. Both of them had drinks in their hands and Charles tried to point to ask who they were but Max kept pulling and soon they were in the kitchen. The door shut behind them dampening the sound of the bass drum, and all of a sudden, Charles could hear himself think again. 

Max dropped his hand at the sight of other people and cleared his throat, quickly taking a step away from Charles and toward the other two boys. 

Charles looked down at his hand which was still warm from Max’s grip.

He–He–

He looked up and then took a double take of the kitchen island. It was covered in alcohol. There were liquor bottles and wine bottles and beer bottles and cans and mixers and soda all strewn about wildly. It was as if an American movie about a party had thrown up in Lance’s house. Charles didn’t quite remember the last time he had seen a movie about American teenagers throwing a party, but if he had, this would’ve been it. Logan was in the corner doing shots with one of the flyers on the cheer team. Alex and Pierre were playing beer pong in the side room off the kitchen, while Alex’s girlfriend and Liam cheered them on. Oscar and Lando went up to the table immediately and poured soda and other clear liquids into red solo cups, but when he looked up towards Max, blue eyes were locked on him.

“Are you okay?” Max said, his eyes searching Charles’ face.

“Yeah! Yeah, this is—this is—I didn’t think this was real.” He could feel a smile dancing across his face as he looked in awe at the island. 

The sound of the door opening behind him caused them both to turn to find Lance.

“Oh yo, I’m so glad you guys made it. Make yourself at home. There’s drinks here and there’s pong in the room over there and I’m sure people will start dancing in the living room at some point tonight—they usually do. I think there’s more stuff to drink out back, if you want it, and the pool is open, but I really didn’t tell anyone to bring their bathing suits, so if you need to borrow one, just let me know and stuff, but other than that… just, ya know… find what makes you happy I guess.” He clapped Charles on the shoulder, “And thanks so much for coming, dude, this is huge. First American party.” He leaned in closer, “And hey I know you don’t have a girlfriend yet, but there’s plenty of girls here so… ya know… introduce yourself…” Lance winked at him.

“Lance, come hang!” Logan shouted while holding up what Charles thought was a ski with holes carved into it. Lance waved. He had a different brace on tonight and he was walking with only one crutch as he made his way slowly across the kitchen. He grabbed whatever drink was in Lando‘s hand and took a sip before gagging and stealing the cup. “Host tax” he said to Lando as he passed. Lando grumbled, rolled his eyes, and reached over to grab a new cup and pour himself a different concoction.

Charles looked up at Max once more. In the light of the kitchen, his eyes were a muted blue, but they were still brighter than they were at school. “So, Charles, what–a–what do you drink?”

“Charles laughed, “You Americans are so silly. I drink wine or beer, none of whatever that is.” He pointed to a can labeled ‘Four Loko.’ 

Max laughed, “Come on. You’re telling me you’ve never had liquor?”

“Of course I have, but we don’t drink it mixed with energy drinks.” 

Max pointed to the island. “There’s Miller Lite and there’s red wine. What are you in the mood for?”

Lando jumped over and handed them both a cup. “No, no, no. You guys aren’t being boring tonight. We’re sleeping here so you’re gonna drink anything I tell you too.” Oscar rolled his eyes and took a sip from his cup. He also gagged on the beverage, but did not set it down. Charles was sensing a pattern and he was growing slightly concerned that Lando would poison him. 

Max eyed Lando wearily. “What is this?”

“It’s a ‘Lando Long Island iced tea special.’ You’re gonna like it.” He said with a smirk as he pushed it closer to Max’s mouth.

“No.”

“Come on, Maxxxx. Don’t be a spoil sport. Just drink the drinks and have fun for once!”

Max shook his head and stared down at the drink in his hand, then he looked at Lando, “Sure. What the hell.” He took a sip and immediately spit it back into the cup. “Fuck!”

Lando bent over laughing and Oscar joined in, “I can’t believe you drank that, Max, it’s practically battery acid.”

Oscar handed Max a Red Bull, “Mix this with some of the vodka that’s over here. It’ll make you feel better.” Max grumbled about how Lando was an idiot and how he taught Oscar what a Red Bull vodka was and moved closer to the table. Charles looked down at the cup in his hands. 

Lando looked at him expectantly, but Charles set the cup down, “I think I’ll take Max’s advice.” 

Lando looked at him like a sad puppy, but he eventually acquiesced and grabbed Oscar’s hand and headed towards the beer pong table in the far room.

Max handed him a beer and then nodded at the side room, “We might as well watch.”

Pierre beat Alex in sudden death and Oscar and Lando had called winner, so Pierre recruited Charles to play to make the teams even. 

He wasn’t incredible, but he was getting by. For every third shot, he’d get a ball into one of the cups. It didn’t help that he could feel Max’s eyes roving his skin every time he lined up a shot. Eventually they lost to the two knuckleheads and Charles offered to chug the beer in the middle of the table. He then learned it apparently wasn’t that type of game, but he did it anyway. When in Texas, right?

 He could hear Max chuckling as beer dripped down the sides of his mouth and when he finally set the cup down, everyone in the room was smiling. 

“Classic, Chuck.” Lando said and Oscar knocked his shoulder. 

“Wanna go outside?” Max offered and Charles nodded. He waved goodbye to everyone and they headed out the back screen door to a patio overlooking the pool. 

There were a couple girls halfway in the pool drinking and laughing but Max ignored them and walked over to the fire pit. It was October, but it was still Texas so it was around 20 degrees Celcius. 

“Want s’mores?” Max asked, looking at the bag of marshmallows. 

Charles laughed, “No, not really.” 

“Good because last year when I turned this thing on, two people almost fell on top of it.” Max laughed and lost himself in a memory for a moment. 

“Do you always come to the football parties?”

Max looked over at Charles. “No, I’m not really a party kinda guy, but Lance throws them all the time and we’ve been friends since elementary school so occasionally I come just to see the guys.” Charles nodded but Max kept going. “I really only come to these if Oscar asks me. Or…”

“Or?” Charles asks.

It was too dark with just the string lights on the patio to see whether Max was blushing but Charles had a sneaking suspicion that he was. 

“Or if there’s someone I want to hang out with.”

Charles felt his eyebrows furrow. 

Is he talking about me?

“Makes sense.” Charles sat down at the bench.  

Max looked up at Charles, then back down at the ground, then took a deep breath. 

Charles watched him. 

“Yesterday was your birthday wasn’t it?”

Charles swallowed hard. 

“ Oui .”

“You didn’t mention it to anyone else so I… I didn’t make it a thing, but… I got you something.”

Max held out a card that he must’ve been carrying in his pocket. 

Charles reached towards him to take it. 

“Oh.”

He looked down at the red card with his name on it. “Thank you, Max. You…you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know, but you got me such a thoughtful gift for my birthday. I… I don’t really think mine is all that thoughtful, but I figured, why not?”

Charles chuckled softly and opened the card. There were race cars on the front of it: ‘Life comes at you fast,’ Charles opened it. ‘Might as well celebrate all the special moments. Happy (17th) Birthday! (Charles).’ Max had added his own words in blue pen. 

Inside the card there was a gift card to Whataburger and seventeen dollars. 

Charles looked up with a smile on his face.

“I know. I know. It’s not a lot, but my mom always gives me the amount of money I’m turning and I figured you don’t get Whataburger when you’re at home so you might as well really make the most of it and—”

“—Max!” The other boy grew silent. Charles smiled, “Thank you. This means a lot.”

Max nodded and looked over at the girls in the pool. 

Charles set the card aside and looked at his face.

The first boy he met in America was turning into his best friend here. 

I don’t know what to do with this. 

He is so—

Charles shook his head. 

“Did your mom come here to see you on your birthday?”

Max whipped his head back to look at Charles so fast Charles thought he got whiplash.

“My mom?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

Charles raised an eyebrow.

“No, my mom lives in Atlanta. She–she doesn’t come back here.” 

“Oh. That’s—”

“—It’s fine. She calls.”

“Oh.”
“Yeah.”

“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”

“Do you visit her? How far is Atlanta?”

Max bundled his hands in his shirt and Charles got the sense he was making Max uncomfortable. 

“No. I haven’t been to visit her since she moved there. It’s like a two-hour flight.” 

“Oh.”

“It’s—my dad—it’s complicated. He doesn’t like it when I leave and my mom doesn’t like coming back here because of all the stuff that went down during their divorce and it’s just… it’s complicated” Max said very quickly. 

Charles nodded, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“And my sister—”

“—Your sister?”

Max’s jaw clicked together. 

Charles knew all of a sudden that this was an admission Max didn’t intend to make. 

“You have a sister?”

Max nodded slowly and kept his jaw firmly shut. 

“How old is she?”

Max was silent for a moment but then he whispered, “She’ll be 15 in 6 days.”

Charles thought about that for only a second before a realization struck him. That would mean… “She’s the same age as Oscar.”

Max nodded. 

“Where is she?”

“She lives with my mom.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

Max looked anywhere but at Charles. Charles watched the turmoil in his face as Max said, “I haven’t seen her since my parents split like ten years ago.” 

Ten years. 

Ten years!

His father had been gone for one year and Charles couldn’t even…

He imagined what it would be like to not see Arthur or Lorenzo for a decade. He couldn’t even fathom that kind of loneliness. He was always with at least one of his brothers or Jules or…

Poor Max. 

Max looked over at the pool again and blinked quickly. 

Charles had asked for an admission and needed to give one back. It was only fair.

“It’s my first birthday without… without my dad, and I haven’t really been sad about it.” Max quickly turned his head to look at Charles. “Like, I definitely wasn’t sad about it yesterday, but I think part of that is because people didn’t really know about it and I don’t want it to be a big thing and for that to turn into spiraling where I miss him because he’s not here. You know?”

Max nodded “Yeah, I get it, Charles. That makes sense.”

He paused for a moment.

“I just know that I should feel sad. Whatever this other feeling is…whether it’s numb or just nothing, it makes me feel crazy. My birthday was everything to my dad. All of our birthdays were and without him… I just feel like there really isn’t anything worth celebrating.”

“Charles, you’re allowed to feel however you need to about this.” 

Charles looked at him. 

“Really, Charlie. Your dad wouldn't want you to feel sad on your birthday if it was everything to him. He would want you to do whatever you wanted to do.”

Charles just nodded. 

“If you want to do nothing for your birthday then you don’t have to do anything. And if you change your mind—even if it’s a month from now—I’ll celebrate it with you.”

Charles felt a flutter in his chest, “Really?”

Max stood up and came to sit beside Charles. He smiled with the utmost sincerity, “Really. Birthdays are… they’re hard and they’re complicated, but it doesn’t have to be anything. It’s your day and you’re allowed to feel however you want about it.” 

Charles and Max were inches apart. 

“Thanks, Max.” He leaned another inch forward.

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

Max’s face was so close to Charles’ he could feel the other boy breathing . If he just leaned in then—

Max brought his hand up to cup Charles’ jaw and softly said, “Happy Birthday, Charles. Your secret’s safe with me, ok? I promise no one has to know.”

Charles nestled into the hand cupping his face and felt the sudden urge to kiss the boy in front of him.

Then they heard rustling from the bushes. 

Suddenly, Lando burst out onto the patio. 

“IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY CHARLES?!?!? Or, well, it was yesterday! This calls for a birthday rager—I gotta go tell all the guys! One sec, don’t move.” Charles and Max jumped apart at the loud intrusion and stared wide-eyed at where Lando had just startled them. 

“Lando! Wait!” Max yelled but Lando was too quick and sprinted up to the house. “Shit. Sorry, Charles. I didn’t know he was hiding.” 

Charles looked back over at Max as they both stood up. “It’s okay. Maybe this is good. Maybe it’ll help me. Forget about how much I miss him…and make me feel better for not being sad.”

Max shook his head, “You don’t have to feel sad, Charles. It’s still your birthday, ya know? It’s something your dad would’ve celebrated.”

Charles went to respond but then the backdoor opened and the football team piled out into the backyard chanting “Birthday! Birthday! Birthday!” They stormed Max and Charles and picked Charles up, “Woah! Hey! Put me down.” 

“Charles!” Max tried to reach him, but the crowd began to carry him away.

It was too late. Hands carried him inside while people kept yelling, “Birthday! Birthday! Birthday,” and then someone was handing him a drink, and they were chanting, “Chug! Chug! Chug!” Charles looked around at some familiar but unknown faces, and then Lando, Oscar, Alex and Pierre. He downed the drink in front of him. 

Maybe forgetting would be better this year. Maybe an American party was all I needed. Maybe this would help me stop feeling nothing. Maybe this would help me stop feeling anything at all.

Maybe I should’ve kissed Max.

 

After that, Charles loses time. One minute he and Lance are taking shots, the next he’s playing beer pong and losing badly, the next he’s laying on the couch in the living room humming along to the blasting music while Lando tells him a really long story about the…the Alamo? and plays with his hair.

Then Charles remembers vomiting. The cold feeling of porcelain under his fingers and Max sitting in the bathroom with him while he gags. Someone getting him a cold glass of water and another person putting a cool washcloth on the back of his neck. Then everything goes black.

 

– 

 

Charles woke up to the sunrise. He had a splitting headache, and as he rolled over, he realized the ground beneath him was metal, and this was not his blanket. He quickly sat up and a painful pang shot its way through his head as he groaned.

The body next to him groaned too. He looked over and realized that Max was sleeping parallel to him under a ratty blanket. When he looked around, he found himself in the bed of Max’s truck. There were guys waking up all around him in truck beds, some with other football players and some with scantily clad girls. All of them, tired and hung over and upset that it was morning.

Max turned to look at Charles and those blue eyes (even just waking up) were dazzling in the sunlight.

“Max, what happened last night?”

Max groaned again. “It is too early on a Saturday to be awake, Charlie.” He sat up slowly and looked at his watch. “It’s 6:00 AM.” He shook his head as if to wake himself up but then leaned down and rested his head against Charles’ shoulder. “Ugh, I should get home soon.” 

Max picked his head up and Charles suddenly missed the heat Max had inadvertently given him. He looked behind them through the glass, but didn’t see Oscar or Lando in the front of the pickup. 

Max patted the blanket and found a phone. Charles recognized it. “Here’s your phone.” Max set it down on a vaguely precarious place to place anything early in the morning. Charles tried not to visibly react to the new sensation in his body but Max wasn’t looking at him anyway. Max grabbed his phone and suddenly the energy shifted. “Shit.”

Charles glanced over and saw Max had four missed calls from his dad. Max was suddenly wide awake. 

“I need to find Oscar and I need to go home.” 

Charles knew he was now the more groggy of the two but he still said, “Let me help you look.” 

Max pulled the blanket off both of them and scooted to the end of the bed to jump down onto the grass. Charles moved quickly to bundle the blanket on his lap. “I’ll help you in one second.” 

Max nodded and jumped down, walking quickly towards Lance’s house. 

Charles leaned back against the glass behind him and stared up at the sky. 

I have got to get it together. This is Texas. This is crazy. He’s—He’s

Charles shook his head. 

I’m not doing this. 

He shook his head again to clear his brain. When he finally could get off of the truck without anything obvious being amiss, he then heard a shout from the house. He turned to look and saw Oscar and Max walking back toward the truck. Max was giving Lando a piggyback ride and it seemed like Lando might still be asleep or maybe just so hungover he couldn't move. Regardless, Charles’ breath caught in his throat. 

I’m not doing this.

I’m not doing this. 

Max got back to the truck and looked up at Charles. “Charlie, can you help me get this muppet up into the bed? He’s a little out of it still.” 

Lando groaned. “Maxie. Five more minutes.”

Max laughed as he hoisted Lando up for Charles to grab onto.

“You can sleep, dummy. I’m just gonna take you home.”

Charles looked at the understanding in Max’s eyes and the slight smile on his lips as he tucked Lando under the blanket in the back of the truck.

Shit. 

I’m doing this. 

Notes:

I've devoured your comments like a starved man. Thank you. I love you all.

-G.

Chapter 12: Chilly Treats + Cold Shoulders (Two of Swords)

Summary:

POV Daniel / Max

Notes:

Look at me posting when I said I was going to :)
I had next week all figured out but then I was hit with such a serious idea that it had to be written
Most likely will still post on Wednesday... we'll see

-G.

Danny woke up with the sunrise. Or rather with the sun streaming through his window. He looked over at his phone on the nightstand and confirmed what he thought. 12:30. 

Well, fuck. 

He wanted to get up earlier today and go workout and actually do something with his life that wasn’t bartending, but now he had an hour and a half before he had to be at work. Not really enough time to do anything.

He groggily got up and ran a hand over his bare stomach. 

His apartment was usually too hot in the summer months without anything but a window box AC, but the temperature was starting to change now that it was finally October, so he felt like he finally slept through the night without waking up covered in sweat. 

He took a shower and when he got out at 1:00 there were texts on his phone from Jules. 

Jules: 10:03

Danny Boy! Want to grab lunch today? 

12:14

Pff you always sleep so late. When you get up - call me

 

Danny laughed. Leave it to Jules to text him on the one day he slept in this week. 

 

Danny: 1:04

I’m up now but I have to be at work around 2:00–not really enough time for lunch… buttttttt what about ice cream? 

L.E.C.?

Meet you in 20?

 

Danny watched the bubbles appear and then disappear and then appear again. 

 

Jules: 1:06

Since when do you work this much? I don’t remember that from college….

Ice cream sounds good. See you in 20 

 

Danny got dressed quickly, grabbed his work bag, his keys, and his mostly charged phone and locked the door behind him. 

His apartment wasn’t in the worst neighborhood in town, there were definitely more unsavory places to be, but it also wasn’t the nicest area and there had been break-ins recently of people who probably didn’t lock their doors or their cars. 

Helmut owned the building and had rented it to him for cheap when he first got stuck here. He reminded Danny every chance he got that with a moment's notice he could be out on the street, but the threat rarely landed. The old drunk was mostly harmless when he wasn’t yelling about immigrants or talking to Jos about Max. Plus, the property manager really liked Danny since he paid his rent on time and always had a smile to throw around. This year Helmut had upped his rent by $50 so Danny had started looking at other places to live just in case he couldn’t afford it anymore on his shit salary, but finding housing in a small town was no easy task. And Helmut owned most of the real estate so finding a new place that the old man didn’t have his hands around was harder. 

 

It was a fifteen minute drive to L.E.C. which was in turn a twenty minute drive to the bar. He could probably afford to be a little late today since Max and Carlos helped him clean up last night, but since it was a Saturday Jos would most likely be around keeping watch, so unless Danny wanted to get yelled at, he had to be at the bar by 3:00.

 

The parking lot was full but as Danny walked into the sweet smelling air conditioned parlor, a bunch of families with kids were leaving. That left a couple along the far wall sharing a banana split and three women sitting together at a high top gossipping and sipping on milkshakes. The women glanced at him as he walked in and one looked familiar but he walked up to the counter instead of trying his hand. 

A boy behind the counter who couldn’t have been more than Oscar’s age smiled up at Daniel, “Welcome to L.E.C. We’ve got 100 flavors that we think you’ll love.” 

Danny raised an eyebrow, “You think I’ll love all 100 flavors? That’s a little cheeky of you.”

The boy blushed and stuttered, “No-no well, I-I  just have to say that. It’s - it’s like the company line and—”

Danny laughed, “—I know, kid. I know. Sorry didn’t mean to get you all flustered.”

The bell on the door jingled behind Danny and he didn’t need to turn to know it was Jules. 

“Daniel!” Strong hands came down to grab Danny’s shoulder and they pressed into sore muscles with a touch both gentle and firm. Danny closed his eyes for a brief second too long before spinning around and hugging the other man. “Jules! Finally! I’ve been waiting hours.”

Jules rolled his eyes, “Ah yes. The man sleeping far too late is lecturing me on my timing.” 

Daniel laughed and then turned back to the boy across the counter. “Well, kid, are ya gonna tell him what you told me?”

The boy blushed, “Hi! Welcome to L.E.C. We’ve got 100 flavors—”

“—One-hundred flavors, Jules! One-hundred!” 

“Daniel, let the boy finish.” 

The boy laughed nervously, definitely ready to be done with the teasing Daniel was putting him through. 

“Yeah, 100 flavors that we think you’ll love.”

Daniel looked at Jules, “Should we sample all one-hundred and see if he’s right?”

Jules swatted him on the back of the shoulder, “Pff! You think you are so funny.” He turned to the boy behind the counter who looked warily at Daniel as if he actually expected the man to ask for 100 samples. “Can I have the two scoops of the blackberry in a waffle cone, please?”

The boy nodded quickly, seemingly glad to be given a task that didn’t involve talking to the two of them. 

“Ah, a little fruity of you, Jules, don’t you think?” Daniel wiggled his eyebrows at the other man. 

Jules rolled his eyes again, “You haven’t changed at all since college, you know that?”

Daniel just shrugged and turned to look at the flavor board, “Gotta keep the magic alive somehow. I mean, how else would you recognize me?”

Jules laughed, “Probably by the mess of curls you refuse to cut.” He tipped his head toward Daniel’s hair. 

“Ahh, not the hair, Jules.” He put his hand on his chest, “You wound me. Never insult a man’s hair.”

The boy came back with Jules’ ice cream. Then he nervously looked at Daniel, “Did you want to sample one?” He politely asked. 

“Nah, but thanks, Ollie” He looked at the boy’s name tag, “I’ll snag two scoops of the Nutella ice cream in a cup, please.”

Jules pointed to a table in the corner and Daniel nodded at him. 

The boy came back with Daniel’s order and he thanked him and tipped a $10 just for dealing with his teasing. 

Daniel sat down and sampled the ice cream. “Mmmm. This flavor is everything to me right now.” He licked the ice cream in the cup. 

Jules laughed. “I’m pretty sure they gave you a spoon. You are such a heathen sometimes.”

“Ah, yes, a heathen. A perfectly reasonable thing to call someone.”

Jules just smiled and licked his ice cream cone with a knowing glance at Danny. 

Daniel smirked and cleared his throat looking down at the sticky white table beneath them. 

“So… Jules, you haven’t told me what brings you to this humble shit-hole near Abilene.”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Yeah, kind of. It’s the middle of fucking nowehere.”

“What’s yours then?”

“Ah-ah-ah. You first.” Daniel stuck a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth so Jules had to answer instead of him.

Jules looked thoughtfully at his own ice cream for a minute and the mood shifted away from their playful banter toward a more serious note. “Lorenzo was worried that Charles’ and his relationship would still be strained…. After Herve…died… things were…bad. Enzo refused to move back to Monaco because his job was here and at the time his girlfriend was here and… Charles took that… very hard. I, of course, went back to France after we graduated so I was close and able to stick around Monaco to look after Pascale and the family after the funeral but… it just hasn’t been the same. Pascale thought this trip would be a good way for Charles to distance himself from the grief he’s been drowning in. But Enzo was still…worried.”

Daniel nodded for Jules to go on. 

The other man smiled softly. “Pascale encouraged me to come as well to help the two brothers repair what has been broken. And honestly, Daniel, you were a big part of that decision.” Danny’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. 

“I adore Charles and I know Enzo needs my help if he ever wants his brother to forgive him for leaving, but I also knew you’d been living here and it seemed like… fate. I mean what else would bring me to, as you say, the middle of fucking nowhere .”

Daniel set his paper cup down on the table. “Jules…”

Jules held his hand up, “—No, please. Don’t… don’t say anything. I know we parted under our own strained circumstances. It is okay, Daniel. I just wanted to maybe… bring our friendship back to where it was before the spring of our final year.” Jules smiled sadly and then shook his head. “But enough about me. I am here for the Leclercs and I can work remotely for my job so it really doesn’t bother my income. Why are you here? Unless I am mistaken, this is not California.”

Daniel felt his heart clench in his chest and his breathing stuttered for a second too long. 

Jules wanted to… 

Jules forgave him.

Daniel shook his head and coughed. “I…um…well… It’s kind of a long story.”

Jules took a bite of his ice cream and raised his eyebrows. “No. You are the king of making it easy , Daniel. Tell me in two sentences, then later with a bottle of wine tell me the whole sordid tale.”

Daniel swallowed and took another second to swallow his pride. He may not be able to tell his family, but he could tell Jules. “I was driving through town a couple years ago and lost to Max in a game that was worth more than everything I had. I’ve been trying to pay back my debts to his dad ever since and I’m stuck here for a while more because I’m…a fucking idiot who let my temper get the better of me a couple weeks ago.” 

Jules raised his eyebrows and took another bite of his ice cream. “That will be one sordid tale, indeed.”

Daniel nodded. 

“How much?”

“Huh?”

“How much do you need?”

“You’re not giving me money, Jules.”

“How much?”

“You’re not bailing me out of this one, Jules, it’s too much.”

“How. Much.”

Daniel looked down at the table and white knuckled his almost empty paper cup.

“$150,000.”

Jules whistled. “ Putain… you’ve really done it this time, Daniel.”

A beat passed between them. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Jules…”

“Daniel…”

They stared at each other for a second. A brown-eyed staring contest.

Daniel looked away first and out the window toward the parking lot. He saw a familiar face walking toward the door of the ice cream shop. It startled him enough that he swallowed wrong and started coughing. He hacked hard into his elbow and felt tears well up in his eyes. 

In the midst of coughing and vaguely choking on the ice cream in his windpipe, the jingle of the bell announced the opening door. Jules watched Danny from across the table with a worried look on his face but all Danny could do was try to suck air deeply into his lungs. 

“Daniel, are you okay?” Jules held out his water bottle for Daniel to take.

Danny coughed harder into his arm. When he finally took a full breath into his aching lungs the relief of the feeling was cold and immediate. 

The bright blue eyes were startling from across the room as he looked at all the flavors on the board. Daniel knew that Ollie was telling him the same line that he had told Daniel and Jules. Max smiled and nodded. The bell jingled again and Daniel watched Max turn around as Charles came into the shop. The other boy smiled with his whole face and dimples appeared on his cheeks as he walked up to Max. Max quickly pointed at the board of ice cream flavors and repeated what Ollie had said.

Then Max said something else that made Charles laugh and Charles reached around Max to squeeze his shoulder gently. Max dipped his head and smiled and didn’t brush off the contact like Daniel had seen him do hundreds of times. 

He’d never seen Max smile like that—soft and shy—in all the years he had known him. Something about this other boy brought out a different side of Max—one that he kept hidden from The Lucky Lion.

Daniel watched the young Verstappen turn back to Ollie and order. He knew that Max would order vanilla no matter how many hundreds of flavors there were but he hoped that Charles would order something fun. Something he would make Max try. Something new and exciting. He took a sip of the water Jules placed in front of him and tipped his head toward the boys at the counter.

“Looks like we have some company, Jules. What do you know about that?”

Jules turned his head and hummed softly under his breath. Then he turned to Daniel and his smile lit up his face as well. “Charles is making new friends. He tells me Max is good company when they sit together at lunch and that the two boys have a lot of classes in common. He also mentioned that Max was going to teach him how to play pool. Do you know anything about that Daniel?” There was mischief in Jules' eyes, but Danny didn’t reciprocate it. 

Daniel stuttered and almost coughed again. “No, no I don’t. Max said that? He doesn’t really play pool casually or with friends… He barely plays with Oscar…” 

Daniel paused for a moment and considered what this could mean. “I’m glad he found someone he actually wants to play with instead of… his normal games. That’ll be good for him.” 

Jules looked at Danny with a question on his lips, but then a soft voice spoke across the room.

“Jules? Is that you?” Jules turned at the subtle Montagasque tilt of the accent. 

“Charles!” Jules’ face lit up, “Max! Come sit with us.” Jules gestured toward the two empty chairs at their table, one next to him and one next to Daniel. Max’s face went blank for a moment when he locked eyes with Daniel. Then he looked down, picked up his dish of ice cream, looked back up, and smiled softly as he walked over.

“Daniel, we didn’t expect to see you here.” Max said. 

Daniel laughed, “Maxie, my boy, I’m sure you didn’t. What’d you get?” 

Max looked down at his ice cream, then back up at Daniel. “Oh, just vanilla.” Daniel nodded. Max looked at the watch on his wrist. “It’s 2:15.” Max said. 

Daniel took a spoonful of his melted ice cream and popped it in his mouth. He waited a minute and then said, “I can be a couple minutes late.” He smiled at Jules, “Anything for a dear college friend.” 

Jules laughed and ignored Danny’s comment, “Please join us, boys. 

Max looked very clearly at Daniel and then at the door to the shop, but Charles had already sat down, so Max followed suit and sat at the cool metal chair.

No one else was left in the shop now except the four of them and Ollie, who was wiping down the countertop.

“So where have the two of you been today?” Daniel asked slyly

“We were at the field practicing kicks for the game on Friday.” 

Daniel raised an eyebrow, “Max was showing you how to kick a football? Max? This Max?”

Charles laughed and Max’s cheeks turned red. “Non. Oscar was there showing me how to kick. Lando and Max were goofing off.” 

“Ah so it was not just the two of you?” Jules knocked against Charles’ shoulder.

Charles blushed a rosy shade of pink, “No, no there were other people there. I am still learning and Max…” he turned to look at Max, “Sorry, Max, but Max cannot teach me to kick. He tried and… let’s just say I think even I could beat him at this.” 

Max rolled his eyes as the table laughed. “Woah, woah. A little more practice and we both could be out there.” He waited for them to laugh again and then chuckled along with them, “No, Charles is, of course, right. I am really not good at anything except pool.” 

Daniel patted him on the back, “It pays to be good at something, Maxie.” 

“Literally,” Jules chimed in, “It seems to pay you well.” 

Max’s smile dropped but he still nodded at Jules comment. 

Daniel turned to the boy next to him, “I hear you’re going to teach Charles how to play?”

Max nodded again, “Yeah. He’s-ah-he’s never learned. I guess Lorenzo didn’t teach him?”

“No.” Charles rolled his eyes. “Lorenzo learned to play at university to pick up girls. He never played when he was at home.” 

Jules laughed, “Sounds like someone else I know.” He waggled his eyebrows at Daniel. 

Daniel shook his head, “I did not play to impress girls in college, Jules. That was just a lucky side effect.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Max. 

Max laughed and knocked into his shoulder, “Ah, yes. Ever the ladies’ man.” 

Jules smirked and licked his ice cream, “Not just the ladies liked to watch if I remember correctly.” 

Daniel kicked Jules under the table and subtly shook his head. 

Jules raised an eyebrow and gave Daniel a devilish grin . “If I remember correctly there were a few strapping young men that liked to watch Daniel play.”

Max dropped his dish and it clacked against the table. “You—”

“—Alright, Jules, that’s enough of a jaunt down memory lane. Thank you.”

“And boy did he like it when they watched .”

“Thank you, Jules. Please stop.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, “Daniel, I didn’t realize you were bisexual.”

Daniel grit his teeth and clenched his jaw. Leave it to Jules to out him to Max and Charles in their third fucking conversation. 

“Well, Charles, that’s because it’s not something I talk about all that often. Especially here . In Abilene fucking Texas.”

“Daniel—” Daniel could feel Max’s eyes on him. 

“—Max, I really don’t want to get into this right now.”

“Daniel, your phone is ringing.”

Daniel’s eyes dropped to the table and saw “The Devil” on his home screen.

“Who is ‘The Devil’ and why is he calling you?” Charles asked. 

Max ran his hand through his hair. “It’s my dad.”

Jules laughed, “What?”

Max looked at his watch. “It’s 2:45, Daniel.” 

Daniel picked up the phone.

“Where the fuck are you?”

“Traffic. I’m coming.”

“There’s no traffic in this town, Ricciardo. Next time come up with a better lie. If you’re not here in ten then you’re vacuuming all the pool tables on your day off this week.”

The line clicked. 

Daniel pulled the phone away from his ear. 

“Welp, that’d be my cue. Time to head to work.” He stood up. Charles and Jules looked at him with a hint of sadness tinged with confusion.

He turned to Max who had suddenly found his ice cream very fascinating. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, I drove here and I don’t need to be back until 5:00.”

“You playing tonight?”

Charles jumped in. “He actually promised me a game.” 

Max smiled at the other boy. “Yeah.” Then he looked up at Daniel and his smile turned tight. “I’ll be back in time for a couple sets before the lights go out.”

“Gotcha.”

“So I guess I’ll see you later, Daniel?” Jules asked as he wiped his face with a napkin. “Since someone must accompany Charles to your establishment and we both know Lorenzo won’t want to go back there.

“Yeah, Jules. I guess I’ll see you later. Try not to tell them anything else about me while I’m gone.”

“Pff. You are so dramatic.” Jules rolled his eyes but Daniel could see just a hint that the other man was sorry for outing him. 

“Whatever. See you later.”

Daniel threw away his empty ice cream dish, winked at Ollie on his way to the door, and went back into the heat of the world outside L.E.C.

His engine jumped once but finally caught and he drove away knowing full well that even if he got to the Lion in the next seven minutes, he’d be spending his Monday scrubbing green felt. 

 

—

 

Max sat down at a barstool and set his head briefly on the countertop. 

“Dude, that’s sticky, at least let me clean it.” Daniel swiped a wet cloth over the wooden surface as Max picked his head back up. “You okay?”

Max nodded slowly, “Yeah, yeah. I’m just tired and I have a…” he flicked his eyes up toward the ceiling “… a slight headache.”

Daniel narrowed his eyes, “As in the concussion you’ve been nursing hasn’t gone away yet but you’re still down here?”

Max shook his head slowly, “No, no I’m sure I’m just dehydrated or need caffeine or—”

“—Or you haven’t actually taken Seb’s advice and now your body is fighting you.”

Max laid his head back down on the now clean(ish) countertop. “Whatever, just let me know when Jos comes back out of his office.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, but nodded in response. He poured a Coors Light for a guy at the end of the bar and made five green tea shots for a girl and her friends. Then he heard a voice he recognized, “Come, Charles, I want a pint.”

Jules moseyed up to the bar where Max was sitting and put a hand on the boy’s back. Max moved quickly and jumped from the stool. His eyes wide and his body tense. 

Jules put his hands up and smiled, “Ah, sorry, Max. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Charles laughed, “What’s got you so jumpy, Max?”

A sound left Max’s lips but he didn’t respond for a beat. 

Danny stepped in. “He was practically sleeping, Charles. I think Jules just woke him up from his cat nap.”

Charles and Jules chuckled and Max took it as an opportunity to reorient himself. 

“How are you sleeping in here, Max? It is too loud, no?” Jules asked.

Max’s lips pulled into a half smile, then a frown, then back into a smile and his hand found the back of his neck. “Ah, I can always sleep. Loud or not. It’s a gift, really.”

“It helps when you grow up above a bar,” Daniel winked at Jules.

Max nodded and looked around. Daniel knew he was looking for Jos but the man still hadn’t come out of his office. 

“You promised me a game?” Charles bumped his shoulder with Max’s. “Still up for it?”

 Max’s mouth opened and closed a few times and it made him look like a fish in an aquarium. 

“Of course he is.” Daniel set down Jules’ drink on the bar. “But if his dad comes back he might be playing a real round. You okay with being interrupted, Charles?”

Charles nodded, “Of course, of course. I don’t mean to disturb your, ah… hustling?” Charles smiled at the end as if they were all in on some joke. 

Max stole a hard glance at Daniel but then turned back to Charles, “You’re not disturbing anything. Let’s um… let’s try that table over there.” He pointed toward a table he rarely played at on the far side of the room furthest from Jos’ office. “Daniel, will you grab me when—”

“—Yeah. I gotcha, bud.”

Max nodded and led Charles away toward the table. He only looked back at Daniel once, which the bartender took as a win. 

Jules hopped up on the stool Max had been using, “What’s the story, Daniel?”

Daniel hummed in response but Jules didn’t leave it alone. 

“What was that? He is so… skittish? He’s a nice kid, really, but this…” Jules looked around and gestured to the bar, “this doesn’t paint a very pretty picture. I mean, Lorenzo said the second round of their game was like playing a professional. I reminded him that you warned both of us, but he wasn’t amused.”

Daniel rubbed the white cloth against an imaginary stubborn spot on the counter before looking up at Jules with a tight smile, “It’s really not my story to tell.”

Jules’ eyes were as inviting as they were sharp. Daniel knew the other man was worried about what Charles was getting himself into more than anything else, but a small part of Daniel also hoped that maybe Jules would be another person looking out for the young Verstappen. 

“Really, Jules. I’m just the bartender.” Daniel smiled sadly and gestured to the bar behind him. “My job is to not get involved and serve people drinks.”

Jules raised an eyebrow, “The Daniel I know would never let a kid like that stand alone.”

Daniel swallowed hard, “He’s not alone, Jules. It’s… it’s complicated.”

“As complicated as your sordid tale of being stuck here?”

Daniel nodded.

Jules looked over to where Max was letting Charles break the resin triangle. The balls barely moved after the cue ball struck and Max leaned over the table laughing. Daniel could see Charles’ face turn bright red from here but instead of poking fun, Max reset the balls and demonstrated how to do it again before letting Charles take his place and break a second time. 

Jules smiled, “No, Daniel. I’m not sure it is.”

 

—

 

As Max knocked the eight ball in for the 17th time that night, he realized this was the first game in a while where he was actually having fun. 

Charles pouted on the other side of the table, “No fair. You said you were going to let me win.”

Max laughed once, “I never said that. I would literally never do that. Not even for you, not even for Oscar. If you want to win,” Max said slyly, “You have to earn it.” Charles’ cheeks turned pink at the suggestion and he looked away. 

“Well maybe you could—”

“—Maxie! Here’s your disgusting drink of choice and a quick warning that I saw Daddio shaking hands with a man in a blue button down.” Max took the glass and looked around. He spotted Jos in his usual corner. He clicked his tongue and turned to look at Charles but Daniel beat him to the punch. 

“Charlie! Come join Jules and I at the bar. Max has a game to play and he’s just, oh, so shy when it comes to spectators.” Daniel winked and took Charles by the elbow.

Max didn’t even have time to say goodbye before Charles was ushered away. 

Max could feel his energy drop without Charles. 

It was busy for a Saturday night and he would so much rather hang out with the boy at the bar than play at the tables. The music was loud and the conversation was louder. A frat from a nearby college had control of two of the tables by the back door and they kept cheering loudly whenever someone sank a ball. Maybe if he just snuck out the back, or ran upstairs, or sat down in the dark booth in the front corner and hid then the sound wouldn’t be so loud and his skin wouldn’t feel so tingly, and his chest wouldn’t feel so tight. Maybe him and Charles could—

—Someone bumped into Max on their way to rerack the balls on the table to his left and he was jostled from his thoughts. Half his drink spilled on the already sticky floor and he righted himself, muttering apologies to the person who knocked into him but they just kept walking.

He shook his head and took a deep breath. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. He couldn’t hide or hang out with Charles. It was a Saturday night and Jos was shaking hands with men twice Max’s age. There was money on the line.

He grabbed his pool cue off the table and walked over to the back corner that tugged at him like a demon in a dark alleyway.

Jos’ eyes lit up when they saw him, “Here he is! You remember my boy.”

Max looked over at the man standing next to his father, he looked familiar, but Max couldn’t place him. The man held out a hand and Max shook it. “Hey, Kid. Adrian Newey. Nice to see you again. You’ve gotten taller.”

Max nodded and smiled. Newey had played a couple months ago and he had lost twice but sometimes people came back for a second round or third or fourth if Max was lucky. Those people always overplayed and tried a little too hard to beat Max, and Max was a lot more confident in playing when he remembered a player’s style. It was the one thing he could count on in a repeat game. Newey liked to hit the cue ball a little harder than necessary which usually sent the second ball a little too hard at the pocket. If the angle was off just enough, the ball would ricochet instead of sinking and Max knew he could count on the older man doing that again tonight. 

People never changed.

Jos interrupted his thoughts, “Game’s on for 10 grand. I wanted to up the stakes more but Newey figured we should start reasonably tonight. Let’s see where the balls roll.” Jos smiled at the other man. Newey laughed in response.

Max nodded at the two men and turned to go to the other side of the table as Newey walked around to break the triangle. Before he could reach his destination, Jos grabbed his left wrist and pulled his body backwards. Max stumbled, but let his body be led by the solid grip holding him up. Jos leaned in and whispered “Don’t disappoint.” Then let go. Max stumbled forward in the opposite direction, but quickly found his footing and moved to the opposite side from the corner table where he noticed a six pack was already missing three cans. When he looked behind him he met Daniel‘s eyes across the bar and shook his head slightly. Daniel couldn’t get involved tonight. Not with Charles and Jules close enough to watch the game. Daniel nodded and went back to talking to Jules and Charles.

Max took a deep breath. 

In…out…one.

In…out…two.

It was all about focus. It was all about focus . He could turn his brain off and his even-keeled breathing on and he could shut out the sound of the early 2000s pop and the large crowds and the frat a couple tables over. He could shut off the feeling of the heavy eyes of his father and the light eyes of Charles from across the room. 

He could focus. And then he could win.

Max knew how to win. 

He was born and bred and trained to win. 

He knew exactly what it took. He knew exactly how to get there. 

He knew the consequences for not being able to.

He wasn’t worried one bit.

 

—

 

During the game Charles inched closer and closer to the corner table. Max could feel it each time the eyes chose a new vantage point. Each time they found a new place to stand watch. Almost like they were standing guard at times.

When the eight ball finally sunk in the corner pocket, Max knew Charles had seen every single shot . 

So it wasn’t a surprise when a voice spoke from somewhere to his right.

“Ah, you will win next time, no?”

Max bit his lip and nodded once. “Yeah… something like that.” He whispered just as he felt a firm hand come down on his shoulder and he spun to the left. Face to face with a seething lion. Teeth barred. “What…was… that?” Words sharp and deadly came rushing at him in a tone that could freeze the sun. 

Their faces were inches apart and Max knew he couldn’t react. Jos directly in front of him. Charles somewhere behind him. Danger . His brain screamed. Danger .

Max’s mouth opened but no sound came out. His chest grew tight and his lungs constricted. He felt like he might throw up, but didn’t think there was enough time for his muscles to contract. His breathing stopped as he stared up into blue eyes that would’ve been a mirror image of his own if they weren’t so punishing in their gaze. Max’s teeth clicked together as the hand on his upper arm tightened. There was a promise of violence so sharp in the air, Max swore he could already taste the iron on his tongue. For a second he thought he would choke on the feeling of the leash tightening at his neck as his lungs crushed against his rib cage. 

“What…was… that, Max ?” Jos snarled through clenched teeth. 

His head shook involuntarily as if to scream No! It was an accident. Please! But still no words came out. 

“You fucking —”

“Um, excuse me, sir?”

Max closed his eyes when he heard Charles speak somewhere behind his left shoulder. Don’t! Don’t interrupt him! Don’t make yourself a target ! But still no words came out. 

Jos’ eyes slowly moved from Max’s face to just over his shoulder and his glare somehow turned sharper. “What!” The word was spit at Charles.

“I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Charles. Charles Leclerc. Max and I go to school together and I play on the football team with Oscar.” Max turned just in time to see Charles stick his hand out for Jos to shake. 

Max’s mouth opened in a silent plea as Jos’ grip tightened on Max for a moment before he suddenly let go. 

This was possibly the stupidest thing Charles could have done.

Jos grabbed Charles’ hand and the boy winced slightly. “Charles Leclerc, huh?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Leclerc? I know that name.” 

Charles let go of Jos’ hand and rubbed it softly, “I think you’ve met my older brother.” Max winced. We don’t talk about that!

Recognition flitted across Jos’ face, “Ah. There it is. Lorenzo Leclerc.” Jos laughed sharply.

Charles nodded and laughed as well, either ignoring the tension or not noticing it. “Yes, yes. He lost some money here, I think.” Charles smiled politely.

Jos turned a shark-like smile at Max, “Yes. Yes, he did.” Then back to Charles, “And I’m sure he told you all about my little lion, eh?”

Jos grabbed Max’s upper arm again and pulled him forward until he and Charles were standing face to face. Charles looked down perplexed at the hand on Max, but the soft polite smile stayed glued to his face as his eyes came back up to find Jos’.

“Lorenzo mentioned Max’s talent, yes.”

“Care to try your hand?” Jos gripped Max’s arm tighter and Max clenched his teeth in response and looked anywhere except at the eyes glued to his skin.

Charles shook his head, “Non, no thank you. I am no good–not good… Max was trying to teach me earlier tonight, but—”

“—Oh? Max? My Max? Was trying to teach you ?” Jos laughed once. “How… interesting…”

Max tried to take a step back but found himself caged by Jos’ vice of a grip, “Dad—” 

“—I think we’re done here, Max.” Jos turned to look at him.

Max shook his head quickly. “Dad, pl—”

“—Yup. I’m done.” Jos looked around, “Nothing else for the night. So I guess you can go.” He let go of Max’s arm and in doing so, pushed Max against the pool table.

Max saw Charles take a step forward out of his peripheral vision as if to catch him, but Max didn’t dare to turn, “Dad—”

“No, Max!” Jos’ voice sharpened but didn’t raise in volume. 

“Plea—”

“—I don’t think little kids who get distracted when their school friends watch get to play in the big leagues.” His eyes were flint.

“Dad—“

“I don’t want to see you again tonight.” 

When Max didn’t move or try to speak, Jos’ smile dropped off his face and he leaned in suddenly to whisper in Max’s ear, “Leave before you make me do something you’ll regret… and in front of your little friend, too.”

Jos didn’t need to yell for Max to listen. Yelling only came out when Jos was too angry to see the whole picture. The softer he got, the worse Max knew it would be. He could feel Jos’ whisper in every cell of his body. It called to him in a way nothing else did. A siren song lulling sailors to their death for centuries. Pulling men off ships and drowning them in the vast, dark, unforgiving ocean. A single word was enough. A sentence was practically a death march.

Max’s back pulled straight, his eyes unfocused, his ears blocked out everything that wasn’t Jos. It was as if Jos’ voice was the single most important thing in the room. 

It was as if Jos’ voice and Max’s body had some kind of symbiotic relationship.

How many more games? 

How many more hours?

How much more sweat and blood and tears? 

How much anger are you willing to bear?

How much are you willing to let Charles see?

“Get. Out.”

Max nodded slowly, his eyes refocusing and searching Jos’ face for any sign that this was a test and not a command.

Jos tipped his head at the door and raised an eyebrow.  

Max swallowed hard, “Come on, Charles.” The other boy looked very confused but just smiled softly at the elder Verstappen before following Max. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Verstappen.”

“Goodbye, Leclerc. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”

Max walked slowly past the bar and whispered, “See ya tomorrow.” Danny’s usually sunny face closed off and he glanced once at Jos before turning back to Jules and probably giving some half-hearted reason as to why Jules should leave immediately.

Max walked slowly to the door and turned back to look. Jos’ eyes had followed him across the room and didn't leave his skin even as the door closed between them. 

Once Max and Charles were safely outside, Max finally took a deep breath. His chest ached from the lack of air he had allowed himself in the last five minutes and he took a second to really soak in the night as the feeling of the chill absorbed into his lungs. 

Kimi grunted at the sight of him, “What’d you do this time?”

Max wasn’t in the mood for the joke. 

“I lost.” 

Kimi looked at him warily, “Bwoah, again?” 

“It wasn’t on purpose.” 

Kimi cocked his head, a beat passed, then he whistled. 

“Huh.”

“Yeah.” 

“You need a place to stay?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” 

Charles watched the volley between them and then turned as Jules joined them on the porch. 

“Hi Charles, Max. I take it we’re going back to Lorenozo’s?”

“Max is coming with us?” Charles sounded surprised as if he hadn’t just witnessed the tight-lipped conversation between Max and Jos; but then again, maybe he hadn’t witnessed all of the things Max and Jos didn’t need to say. The tell-tale signs that Jos was vibrating with anger. The sudden shift to a still body, the way his jaw tightened, the muscles dancing below his skin, the curl of his fingers, and most important, the slick cadenced tone. 

Max had left when Jos’ tone switched from angry to dangerous. 

Angry at losing the game. Angry at losing money. 

Dangerous at realizing Charles was watching the whole time. Dangerous at recognizing Charles as Lorenzo’s brother. Dangerous at understanding that Charles knew Oscar. Dangerous at understanding that Charles knew Max. That Charles knew Max.

Max swallowed hard. Jos was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. If he suspected… If he guessed that Max… If he even considered that Max could like…

Max shook his head. No. No no no.

If Jos thought Max was gay, even for a second, even for a fraction of a second , he wouldn’t have let him leave the bar with Charles. 

“Yeah. Is it… Is it—”

“Max, of course you are welcome to stay at Lorenzo’s. Is it for one night or two?” Jules asked. 

Max heard the Frenchman and he felt more than saw the boy from Monaco beside him, but he only had eyes for the bouncer in front of him. 

Kimi raised an eyebrow and pondered the question for a beat. 

“You lost?”

Max nodded. 

“Who?”

“Blue button down. Nice shoes. Repeat player.” 

“Hmm. Good?”

Max shook his head no.

Kimi’s eyes briefly surveyed Charles. 

“I see.” 

Max nodded. 

Kimi tilted his head back and forth in thought. 

Jules laughed awkwardly in the silence, “Well?”

Max stared intently at Kimi. 

Finally the gruff voice answered, “Two nights, but leave your truck here. He’ll come find you if you take it with you.”

Max nodded. 

“Seb will get Oscar on Monday.”

“No–”

Kimi’s voice was firm, “Seb will get Oscar on Monday.”

Max’s teeth clicked together and he nodded slowly. 

With that Kimi turned back to the line of people waiting to get in. 

Max turned to Jules, still avoiding Charles’ gaze.

“I just need to grab a bag from my truck if that’s okay?”

“Of course, Max. I’ll grab the car. Charles go with him, okay?”

Charles nodded and followed Max off the porch and onto the dirt path that led to the back parking lot. 

Max walked a step in front of Charles and the other boy jogged slightly to catch up. 

“Max?”

Max didn’t answer, just walked faster. 

“Max! Slow down.” 

Charles tugged on his arm and Max shook him off. “Not right now, Charles.”

Max reached the truck. 

“Max!” Charles moved in front of him so he was between Max and the passenger side door where Max was attempting to unlock the car.

“What?” Max snapped. 

“What just happened? Why are you coming home with us? It was just a game, no?”

Max shook his head and brought a hand up to run through his hair. “Can we not do this right now, Charles? I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Max, why was your dad so upset? Why are you coming home with us? You live upstairs. You can just go home.”

“Charles, pl—”

“—Why, Max?”

“Because he kicked me out!” Max huffed and gestured with his hands. “He’s mad at me so he kicked me out.”

“What do you mean he kicked you out? Where are you supposed to go?”

Max turned to look up at the windows facing the back lot. The light was still on in his room. The light in Oscar’s was off—he was safely far away at Lando’s tonight. There was a fire escape outside their bathroom window that Jos had padlocked long ago, so even if Max wanted to sneak back into his room he wouldn’t be able to. It was a four digit code that Max hadn’t been able to crack yet.

He looked back at the boy in front of him and knew that no matter how he phrased this, Charles wasn’t going to get it. He wasn’t like Max. He didn’t get kicked out of his house. Charles’ dad…

“I-I don't know, Charlie. Just let me grab my bag so we can go.” 

But Charles was adamant. “No, Max. I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I just lost him ten grand ! He’s mad. If you weren’t here he…if you weren’t here I’d be playing all night to make up for it.

“If I wasn’t here? What does this have to do with me ? You bet money every night. This can’t be the first time you’ve lost!”

Max huffed and an annoyed breath left his lips, “He thinks you distracted me! That’s why I lost! So he kicked me out.” 

“But…but—”

“—If I can’t go to yours, that's fine. I can go home with Kimi or… or with Daniel. So don’t worry about me, okay? I have people. I—”

“—No, you should come to Lorenzo’s. I just didn’t realize your dad—”

“— Don’t , Charles. Just… just please can we drop it. I need to get my bag.” Max gestured to the truck behind the other boy.

Charles' eyes stayed locked on Max’s for a moment before they softened slowly and he nodded. He took a step back from the navy truck and Max moved quickly to unlock the passenger side door and pull out a duffle bag that Charles had never noticed was jammed up under the seat. Max slammed the door and locked it again, turning back to Charles. 

“Okay. That’s it. I’m all set.”

Charles looked briefly at the bag before nodding and walking back toward the front parking lot. 

Max looked up at the light still on in his bedroom window before following the other boy to Jules’ car.

 

—

 

Lorenzo was surprised by the addition of Max, but took it in stride. 

“You are Charles’ new friend, no?”

Max nodded as he stood awkwardly in the living room of the apartment. It was very…French. Or at least what Max assumed was the style in Monaco or France. Lorenzo lounged on a black velvet sectional with a wine glass in hand. He had stood up to greet them at first but then after Jules’ short explanation that Max was sleeping there tonight and a quick exchange in French that Max assumed amounted to “I’ll tell you later,” Charles’ elder brother had flopped back down on the couch and stared at the newest inhabitant like he was an animal at the zoo and would be performing soon for the merriment of the onlookers. 

There was a TV on the opposite wall surrounded by paintings with light wooden frames and a large mirror hung on the perpendicular wall adorned in gold framing. The windows were dark but covered in a muslin curtain where one layer was sheer and the other was lace. 

Jules had entered the space with an air of ease and seated himself across from Lorenzo in one of the high-backed white suede chairs that matched the curtains. Charles stood with his hands on the back of the sectional effectively acting as a liaison between Lorenzo and Max, and Max stood just barely on the rug and still within a few strides of the door, just in case the placement for the night didn’t pan out.

It was slightly overwhelming to have three sets of eyes on him in a new space and he tried not to look too out of place among the European sophisticates and fancy art that Lorenzo had seemingly acquired and brought to Texas.

Charles’ eldest brother looked appraisingly at him and Max knew the older man was trying to figure out how a kid Charles’ age had beaten him at pool. That’s how all the men Max had won against looked at him. But Lorenzo didn’t say anything about the game or about the money, he just smiled knowingly—like he was in on a secret that Max would never know. “Pff. Well alright. I guess I will see you both in the morning, unless you want to join me for a glass of wine?” He took a sip from the glass in his hand. 

Jules chuckled at the request but did not advocate one way or the other.

“ Non merci , Lorenzo.” Charles turned to Max. “My room is over here. Why don’t we…” He pointed and Max nodded without another glance at the men in the living room. 

He could feel their eyes on him as he walked down the hall. He wasn’t trying to be rude, but over the sound of his heartbeat and the weight of their eyes, he felt trapped amongst the lions and worried they would soon sniff out his damnation as a lamb. 

As they were nearing the door Lorenzo called out, “ Sois gentil avec lui, Petit frère. Il a l'air effrayé .” 

Max stiffened. He had never been good at French when they learned it in school or when his mother tried to teach him, but he knew enough to know that Lorenzo thought he looked scared. 

“ Bonne nuit, reuf .” Charles called back stiffly as he shut the door behind Max. 

A flurry of French whispers swirled from the living room but Max couldn’t hear it over the tense silence in Charles’ room.

The two boys stared at each other. 

Max could only look at the pointed green for so long before his eyes found the hardwood floor beneath his socked feet. Then he noticed the rest of the room. 

Charles’ room was the same size as Max’s. There was a bed, a desk, a bookcase, and a nightstand but that was where the similarities ended. Max’s room was tidy, orderly, unloved. There was nothing on the walls except a bulletin board and the curtains which were a dark navy that matched the sheets. Charles’ room was… well it was a mess. 

The bed was unmade and light blue and white polka dotted sheets stared back at Max. There were stars on Charles’ comforter and more plastered across the ceiling. There were piles of clothes everywhere and the laundry hamper was overflowing. Papers were strewn about the desk and the bookcase was stocked full with books going in every direction. It was chaos. 

For someone who had only just moved in and was only staying the year, this was an impressive showing of things. 

Charles must’ve seen his wandering eyes because he said, “Ah, yes. Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t really expecting any guests.” He pushed some clothes off his bed and pulled the comforter up towards the pillows.

Charles gestured to the bed and said “You can sleep there. I will grab the air mattress and sheets from the hall closet and I’ll set it up over there.” He pointed to the space between the wall and the bed where an area rug was covered by clothes.

Max stiffened. “No. I’m not taking your bed. I can sleep on the air mattress.” 

“Max–”

“—Charlie, please. I’m invading your space. I will sleep on the air mattress.” He wouldn’t sleep much anyway in a new place so it was only fair that Charles got to sleep in his own bed. 

Charles sighed. “Okay. Let me grab the stuff. Do you need clothes?” 

“No.” Max gestured with the bag over his shoulder. “I have stuff.” 

Charles nodded and then briskly left the room and shut the door behind him. 

They had passed the bathroom door on the way down the hall but Max wasn’t eager to venture back where the wandering eyes of Jules and Lorenzo seemed to want to pin him down. 

Max stared at the closed bedroom door for a second and debated locking it, but this wasn’t his house and he didn’t want Charles to feel like he was overstepping. He shed his tight t-shirt quickly and unzipped his duffle. 

This obviously wasn’t the first time Jos kicked Max out. Usually it was only for one night (two if he was really mad) but Max liked to be prepared just in case. The duffle had pajamas, three sets of clothes, toiletries, cash, an old pair of sneakers, a sweatshirt, and (the latest addition) a raincoat. Max pulled on a looser shirt and a pair of sweatpants just as Charles came back from grabbing stuff. 

The other boy opened the door to his bedroom slowly and brought in a pile of things: the air mattress, a pump, a set of sheets, a pillow, and a towel. 

“Did you want to shower?”

Max shook his head. He just wanted to go to bed. 

Charles hummed and moved a pile of clothes from the floor to his overflowing closet. “Okay.” Charles connected the pump to the air mattress and watched as it began to inflate. He grabbed the towel, “I’ll be right back.” 

This time Charles left the door slightly ajar. 

Max could hear the lull of voices talking, but didn’t move closer to listen. It was always better in Jos’ house to not remind people where you were and, although he didn’t think Lorenzo and Jules would be the same, it was in his veins to be as quiet as possible.

He walked slowly over to Charles’ desk and noticed a framed picture of Charles and his dad. Charles couldn’t have been more than five sitting with a man with kind eyes and a mustache. Max smiled. He picked the picture up and stared at the black and white rendition of the green eyes he was growing so fond of. Charles looked so sweet in the photo as if nothing could ever go wrong. Max felt something bubbling in his chest but couldn’t name the feeling. It was too… new.

The other week at Lance’s party he thought Charles was going to kiss him. They had inched closer and closer on the couch as the party raged on inside. Lando of course had been the one to ruin it but Max isn’t so sure he wouldn’t have ruined it himself. Max knew he shouldn’t have let it get that far. This was Texas after all and, although Kimi and Seb were doing just fine on their own, there would’ve been hell to pay if either of them had come out in high school. Max’s friends were one thing, the rest of the school was another, and outside the building…well…

Max shook his head and set the picture down. He pulled the sleeves of his shirts up over his shoulders and rubbed at them. He was suddenly chilly. 

-

He was reading through the book titles on the top shelf when a voice startled him. He hadn’t noticed the shower stop, or Charles come back into the room.

“Is that—Did he…” Max looked up into the frightened eyes of Charles but he wasn't looking at Max’s face, he was looking at his exposed upper arm. 

Max looked down and noticed a light blue and purple forming in a ring around his bicep. 

He quickly dropped his shirt sleeves. 

“It’s fine, Charlie.”

“Your dad did that. I watched him. He grabbed you.” Charles’ hair was wet from the shower and he had changed into sweatpants of his own but his chest was bare. Max was torn between staring and hiding.

“It’s late, Charlie. Can we just go to bed?”

Charles’ stare stayed locked on Max’s arm as if he could see through the navy fabric of the T-shirt. 

“Please?” Max tried again as his hands stayed firmly planted over his upper arms.

Charles' face contained such horror and pity and worry that Max had to look away. 

“Please?”

“Uh-o-okay.” Charles finally said and turned quickly to the air mattress. He disconnected the pump and grabbed the sheets. Max moved to help him and they made the bed quickly without speaking another word. Charles got Max another blanket from the linen closet down the hall as Max went to brush his teeth. The living room was dark and no voices could be heard throughout the house. Max didn’t know what Jules said to Lorenzo, but hopefully it was convincing enough that Max could stay both nights.

Charles was in bed by the time Max came back to the room. 

They didn’t speak. 

Max got under the sheets of the air mattress and stared up at the stars on the ceiling as Charles leaned over and shut the light off on his nightstand. 

There was silence for a minute. Just the sound of light breathing perforating the otherwise still bedroom. 

Then Charles said, “You carry a duffel bag in your car.” 

Max tilted his head up to look up at the bed, but Charles was staring at the popcorn ceiling. 

“Yes.” It came out in a whisper.

“Does this happen often?”

Max’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He tasted iron and felt like his mouth was full of sand but he worked his jaw, swallowed hard, and wrenched the hinges open to say, “Often enough.” 

“And he grabbed you.”

“He didn’t mean to hurt me, Charlie.” The lie tasted sour on his lips but fell out of his mouth without a fight.

Charles hummed in response. 

Then softly, “...but he did hurt you.”

 

Max squeezed his eyes shut and stared at the colors dancing on the back of his eyelids. 

His arm would be black and blue tomorrow. It would darken and spread overnight. Max had prodded it in the bathroom and winced at the sore muscles and the ache already present under his skin. 

Jos had held him in a punishing grip hard enough that there would be evidence of it later. 

Evidence that Charles had now noticed. 

No one was supposed to notice. 

No one was supposed to care. 

Green and blue danced behind his eyelids.

No one was supposed to care.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, he did.”

Notes:

Ughhhhhh your comments are divine and appreciated more than you could ever, ever know :)

Chapter 13: Blossoms and Buds (The Lovers)

Summary:

Lorenzo's Apt part 2

Notes:

I'm a day late and a dollar short but hear me out... I think you're gonna like this one.
I forgot Wednesday was my first day of the new semester AND I had to take an ethics exam at 8:00 am so sueeeee me that I did not have time to finish.
But I'm hoping this chapter is worth it
Slow burn who?

Get excited.
-G

Max tried to sleep. He really did, but he had never been good at sleeping in new places. 

Danny made fun of him the night before at the bar for being able to sleep anywhere, but that wasn’t quite true. Max could sleep in the bar, in any bar, because those sounds didn’t bother him. The clinking glasses, the laughing people, the sound of raucous music, even the clacking balls slamming together and hitting the sides of the pool table didn’t bother him. His whole childhood had been spent curled up on red booth cushions trying to sleep while Jos hustled some poor fool for his paycheck. So the jangling of quarters inside the jukebox and the wurr of the machine as it tried to play old songs that only the regulars on a Tuesday night would know never stopped him from closing his eyes and drifting far, far away. It was the only lullaby he had ever known.

Those kinds of sounds weren’t the sounds that worried him. 

The sounds that worried him were things that went bump in the night. The creaking of floorboards, the moving of doors, the breath of a body next to his. Those sounds brought danger. Those sounds usually brought Jos.

 

Without the low rumble of noise in the bar to lull him to sleep, Max suddenly became a light sleeper. It was almost as if the more quiet the environment, the less Max was able to feel safe.

Back when his parents were married and it was the four of them living in the apartment above the bar, his parents usually saved their fighting for when Max and Victoria were supposed to be asleep. 

Max would be in the middle of a dream, hear the rumble of raised voices, and his body would be pulled from the safety inside his mind to the reality of his home. Some nights he went out and asked Sophie to tuck him back in, some nights he went through the bathroom to check on Victoria, but most nights he just sat awake and listened to his parents hurl insults at each other until his father inevitably escalated to blows. 

Jos’ sharp temper and short fuse after the sun went down didn’t get better with time nor change when his wife finally left him and the arguments of Max’s childhood ceased. 

Instead, Jos’ anger sharpened its claws and prepared to draw blood as it refocused on new targets.

 

~2012~

Max’s eyes snapped open as the front door shut and locked. He looked at the clock on his nightstand. 2:37 AM. He lifted his head from the pillow and listened carefully. Boots made their way into the kitchen. The refrigerator opened and clanged shut. A glass bottle met the counter a little harder than necessary. Max sat up in bed. A bottle cap hit the kitchen tiles. He leaned his head against the headboard. He heard a sigh from the kitchen.

Jos coming home this late didn’t have to mean anything. It could just be a regular Monday poker night. Or it could be something else. Max didn’t want to take any chances. Last week he had been dragged out of bed because he left his shoes in the living room and he didn’t want to add to his collection of bruises tonight.

Max silently got out of bed and tiptoed to Oscar’s room through the adjoining bathroom. The other boy was sleeping soundly. His even breaths left Max only slightly jealous of his ability to sleep like the dead. Max walked forward and turned the lock on Oscar’s door. 

It wouldn’t stop Jos forever, but it would stall him long enough that he might get bored and go to sleep. 

Max slunk back to his room. As he was closing the bathroom door behind him the shatter of breaking glass stole his attention. 

The sound was startling in the silence and for a minute nothing followed. Then a bottle crashed down on the kitchen tiles and heavy footsteps moved in the direction of the hallway. Max jumped forward and locked the door just as Jos tried the knob. 

He banged his fist against the locked door. 

“Max!” 

“Unlock this door!” 

“Max!” 

Max stepped back slowly away from the assault against the wood.

“Max!” 

“Open this fucking door before I break it down!” 

Max debated whether the wood would hold him. He settled on probably.

He sat down on the floor near his bed and put his head in his hands as Jos rattled the door knob and tried to push his way into Max’s room. 

“MAX! I know you can hear me!”

After ninety seconds of slamming and yelling, where Max swore the little lock would give way, Jos finally left. But a second later Max heard him try Oscar’s room down the hall. 

“Oscar!” 

“OPEN THE DOOR!”

A minute later, Oscar stood in the bathroom doorway.

“What…” 

Max looked up and met Oscar’s sleepy gaze and shrugged. 

“I locked your door.”

“Yeah. I got that.” He yawned. 

“Put your earplugs in and go back to bed, Osc. I got it.”

“But…” 

Jos slammed his hands or maybe his shoulder against Oscar’s door and both boys turned to look to see if the door would give way.

“You sure?” Oscar looked down at him.

“Yeah, I got it.” Max set his chin on his knees.

Oscar looked like he wanted to say something else but then he yawned again, so he nodded and went back to his room. 

Not even a minute later Jos screamed, “You’ll regret this!”

“BOTH of you!”

Jos stomped down the hallway and slammed the door to his own room, leaving a piercing silence in his wake.

Max got up slowly and moved silently to his door. Not even a creak of floorboards or a breath of air made its way to his ears. He listened carefully for any sign that Jos was still moving around but there wasn’t another sound in the house. He finally laid back down in his own bed and tried futilely to find sleep that never came.

 

The next day after the dust had settled and Max vacuumed glass and scrubbed beer from the kitchen tiles, Jos went around with his bright orange toolbox and removed the bedroom doors from their hinges. He leaned the doors against the wall in the living room but put the hinges in a locked drawer in his office just in case Max or Oscar got the potential death wish idea to try to put the doors back up by themselves.

Oscar stood silently against the wall as Jos inspected every inch of his room for anything he could be upset about. Max stood in the doorway of the bathroom waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Jos stared hard at both of them when he was finished, “It’s wise to remember that nothing in this house belongs to you, not even your room. Everything is mine, including you .”

Oscar seemed to shrink back further into the wall as Jos’ shadow grew but Max stood his ground. He wouldn’t apologize for keeping them both safe. 

“You’ll get these back when I decide you’ve learned your lesson. Understood?”

Oscar nodded vigorously. Jos looked at Max.

In the dark recesses of Max’s brain, he wished that Jos would take the house away instead of the doors, so Max could go live with his mother, but he knew that would never happen. 

The house not belonging to them was an empty threat. 

But the door was not.

“Yes, sir.”

 

-

 

~Present~

Max slept fitfully through the night. He tossed and turned anytime Charles moved or an unknown sound caught his attention: the creaking of the bed, the creaking of the floor. Everything screamed danger. 

Sometime after the sun came up, Max was sleeping lightly with his eyes closed and his brain half tuned to the world around him when he got the sudden feeling that he was being watched. His eyes slowly opened and he met the stare of the boy in the bed above him.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Charles whispered.

Max groaned. This was not like waking up next to Charles in the truck bed at Lance’s house. Max had been drunk and able to sleep soundly after the party. This time, he was sober and very tired.

“You didn’t wake me, Charles, but I’m awake now.” Max sat up in bed and saw something orange move across the floor. 

“Ah! What’s that?” Max jumped up and out of bed. Charles looked down over the edge of his bed.

“Oh, that’s Lorenzo’s cat, Tigrou .” 

The cat stalked towards the air mattress and sniffed. He looked at Max like there was a chance Max might drop dead and be his next meal. 

Max reached a hand out slowly and the cat's nose booped the tip of his ring finger to sniff curiously, then the cat rubbed his face against Max’s hand and purred.

“Oh good, he likes you.” Charles said, stepping out of bed on the other side and stretching to the ceiling. “It's only like 8:30, so I wouldn’t mind if you want to sleep longer.”

“No, no,” Max scratched along Tigrou’s spine, “I’m usually up by now anyway, so there’s no need to go back to sleep.”

Charles groaned. “Why anyone would get up this early on a Sunday escapes me.” 

Max laughed gently, “Then why are you awake?”

Charles glanced over his shoulder cautiously. “Well it’s not everyday I have a… what’s the word… slumber party?”

Max’s laugh got caught in his throat and he almost choked. Tigrou slipped away and under the bed at the unknown noise. “Charlie, this was not a slumber party. Guys don’t have slumber parties.”

“Ugh, you Americans and your gender rules.” 

“Isn’t your entire language gendered?”

“Pfft. C’est la vie .” Charles waved his hand. “I’m going to shower. You should as well.” 

Max watched as the half naked boy strolled out of his room and shut the door behind him. 

He looked around as if there were a hidden camera somewhere, but it was just the same room he had stumbled into last night. 

Max had a full-sized bed in his room that only fit him, but Charles’ bed was bigger. It could probably fit both of them and still have a little room. Max sat down on the edge of the mattress and it sank under his weight. Max closed his eyes and listened for the sound of the shower. When he heard the distinct sound of the water running, he laid back and let the soft comforter envelope him. It smelled like citrus and sandalwood. It smelled like Charles. 

Max pulled himself further onto the bed and laid perpendicular so that his head was by the far edge closest to the window and his feet were facing the door. He would just lay here until Charles got out of the shower. Then he would get up and pretend he wasn’t doing anything. It was just so soft and cozy. It was just…

 

When Max woke up again the smell of baking bread lulled him out of a hazy dream. He opened his eyes slowly and stared up at a popcorn ceiling plastered with little green glow-in-the-dark stars. 

Where…  

Fuck .

Max sat up suddenly and startled the body next to him. Charles jolted awake and looked over, “What? What’s wrong?”

Max looked at Charles and then back around the room and realized they were both laying on the bed and there was a blanket covering both of them.

“I-I’m sorry. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Charles shook his head and looked around. “I know. When I came back from my shower you were out cold. I just assumed we were sleeping later.”

Charles reached over and picked up his phone. “It’s 11:00, which is a much more reasonable time to be awake on a Sunday anyway.” 

Max moved the blanket off him and got up. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on your bed.”

“It’s okay, Max, you were tired. It’s big enough for both of us. Although I would have preferred you sleeping in the normal direction, but beggars can’t be choosers or whatever.” 

Max looked around once again as if someone would jump out of the shadows and yell at him, but no one appeared. 

His heart rate had skyrocketed at realizing he was sleeping on Charles’ bed but was now slowing back down to its normal pace.

He took a deep breath. Then another. 

Charles looked at him like he had grown a second head. 

“Are you okay? Are you having a panic attack?”

Max shook his head. “No, no. Of course not. I just need…” he looked around and saw a folded towel on Charles’ desk. “...to shower! I’ll be right back.” He quickly fled the room, leaving a confused looking Charles behind him as he ran down the hall to the bathroom. 

With a locked door separating himself and the Leclerc family, Max finally felt like he could take a deep breath.

He turned the shower on but sat down on the floor next to the tub. 

Why did Charles notice everything? 

Why did he care? 

What had Max done that made Charles so invested? 

 

In… out… one

In… out… two

In… out… three

 

Max shuddered. He felt like he was going crazy. Charles made him feel… everything. It was like all of Max’s senses were heightened whenever he was around the other boy. It was incredible but also very overwhelming. 

Max wanted to be near Charles all the time but also knew he should leave every time Charles discovered something that people weren’t supposed to know.

First, there was the fact that Charles already knew about the illegal gambling. Then the incident where Charles stepped in with Jos. Then Charles noticed the bruises…

 

In…out…

 

Max pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and sure enough there was almost a full discolored ring around his arm where Jos had grabbed him. 

Max didn’t want to think about how much pressure it took to leave bruises on skin. How hard someone had to grab or hit or… Max winced.

 

In… out…

 

He shook his head and lowered his sleeve.

 

Charles let him sleep in and not only didn’t care that he was invading his space, but also fell asleep next to him and put a blanket over both of them. 

Max had friends before Charles, but none of them would have been so calm about anything Charles discovered. None of them would have wanted to discuss it or been willing to share their home with him after realizing what Jos could do. 

But maybe that was the problem? Maybe Charles couldn’t fathom what Jos could do.

Max’s body shuddered again. He didn’t want Charles to be able to fathom any of it. 

He needed to move.

He stood up and slowly got undressed. He met his eyes in the mirror and then calmly brought his gaze down to his arm.The bruising was dark and stood out against pale skin. He turned his arm this way and that to see if any angle looked better, but it was a dark ghastly purple no matter which vantage point he tried. He turned around to see if it looked better from behind and winced at his reflection. His shoulders were mottled with scarring and there was a large yellowing bruise on the left side of his lower back he had forgotten about from earlier in the week. He shook his head and stepped into the shower. 

The warm cascade of water calmed his beating heart and he stood there for longer than necessary to just find any kind of quiet in his mind. His thoughts never really stopped racing, but they were muted by the ebb and flow of the spray against his skin. 

When he finally felt alive enough to look around he was greeted with what had to be twenty different bottles of tinctures and soaps and creams and… wow. 

Max picked up each bottle and smelled the scent until he finally came across a citrusy sandalwood smelling shampoo that he knew had to be Charles’. He laughed as he tried it and totally enveloped himself in the scent. 

He turned the water off and stepped out, grabbing the towel. He looked around and realized he hadn’t grabbed any clothes on his rush out of Charles’ room so he would have to walk back in his towel potentially letting Charles see all the damage he was trying to hide. Max closed his eyes and went very still at the thought. Then his foot touched something soft and he looked down at the dirty clothes on the floor. 

He left the bathroom as steam wafted out behind him. 

Back in Charles’ room, the other boy was already dressed and looked surprisingly at Max. “Do you need clothes?”

Max shook his head, “No. I just forgot to bring them to the bathroom so I put these back on.” 

“Oh.” Charles watched him warily and eyed his covered upper arm. 

Max wasn’t doing this again today. He wouldn’t let Charles see the deep set color curving along his skin. “Can you give me a sec? I just have to change.”

Charles’ eyes widened. “Oh, yes, of course. Lorenzo and Jules made breakfast so whenever you’re done just…ah…just come out.”

Max nodded. “Okay.”

Charles left and closed the door behind him.  

Make went immediately over to his duffle bag and found the orange tabby curled on top of it. 

“Hey, little man. I’m sorry but… I’m gonna have to move you.” He prodded the cat until the tabby meowed grumpily and sauntered away. 

Max grabbed jeans and a black T-shirt with the bar’s logo on the front, an orange lion over two pool cues. He checked to make sure the shirt covered the bruising around his arm and then fixed his hair quickly in the mirror.

He stepped out into the hallway and heard French coming from the other room. 

It didn’t sound angry, but it was too fast for Max to pick out any specific words. When he finally made it to the living room, the conversation stopped. 

“Max!” Jules smiled at him from the kitchen table where four place settings were out. Max could see a plate of croissants, toast, jam and cream, a pot of coffee, and orange juice. “Come! Come! Join us.” He pointed to the seat across from him. 

Charles was sitting already at the seat next to Max’s and the seat next to Jules was empty. 

Charles smiled at him as he sat down. “Jules made us breakfast.”

“And I helped.” Lorenzo said as he brought a plate of apple slices from the kitchen and set it down on the table. “ Bon appetite .” 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do all this.” Max said as he looked at the food on the table in front of him. Other than the toast and coffee, none of it would be allowed in Jos’ kitchen. 

Charles put a croissant on his plate and then on Max’s. 

“How do you take your coffee, Max?” Jules poured cream into his own cup.

“Oh, I’m okay. Thanks though.”

“No coffee?” Lorenzo laughed. “You’re a much better morning person than I. Without at least two shots of espresso you’d be hard pressed to find me out of bed.” 

Jules knocked his shoulder into Lorenzo’s. “Even with the espresso you are a hard man to pull from bed.” 

“Pfff.” Lorenzo waved his hand and took a sip from his coffee. 

Max bit into his croissant and the bread practically melted on his tongue. It was warm and fluffy and light and everything Max needed in a comfort food. He practically sighed. 

When he swung back into the conversation at the table Lorenzo and Jules were making fun of each other and Charles was staring at him. 

“You like it?”

Max nodded quickly. “It’s incredible.” 

“Jules can give you the recipe if you want. It’s his mother’s.”

Jules tutted. “Non. It’s a secret.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Max. “I’m only allowed to tell my wife.” 

Lorenzo chuckled into his coffee. “Well it will die with you then.” 

Jules swatted at him but Lorenzo jerked away with another laugh. “Hush.”

Max smiled back over at Charles. 

This was nice. It was… easy. In a way breakfast hadn’t felt in his house in a really long time. 

Max felt himself relax into his seat. These men weren’t out to get him. They weren’t interested in him besides his company. He was just Charles’ friend.

“So, Max, where did you learn to play pool?” Lorenzo put jam on his croissant casually but Max could hear the subtle bite to his words. Max tugged at the collar of his shirt which suddenly felt like the noose he so often wore at the Lion. So much for easy…

For just a second he had let himself forget how he met Charles in the first place and why Lorenzo was so quick to agree to let him stay here. Just like everyone else that came back to the bar for another round, Lorenzo wanted his free shot at Max.

Max didn’t usually see the people he played outside the bar for a reason. If after all this time Danny was still mad at him and they were… friends, Max would be shocked if any of the other players could stand the sight of him.

Max’s stomach tightened and he was suddenly not hungry. He picked up his glass and took a sip of the orange juice before answering.

“My dad taught me.”

Lorenzo set the knife down but picked up a small fork to stab at the apple slices on the plate. “Hmmph. Was that the man pimping you out?”

Max choked and started coughing.

“ Connard! C'est quoi ton problème ?” Jules set his espresso down with a look of disapproval directed at Lorenzo.

The light air of the breakfast turned into something sharper. 

Max cleared his throat and swallowed.

Lorenzo looked mock sheepish, “I didn’t mean to startle, I just figured that Max’s father was also the person in charge of the gambling since it didn’t seem like Max would be able to hand over $15,000 dollars to a stranger. I didn’t realize that 16-year-olds could gamble in America but maybe I just need to brush up on my laws. It’s so different here than in Monaco.” He waved his hand as if discussing the weather. 

Lorenzo was baiting him which Max expected, but Charles was unamused

“Lorenzo, you saw him before you agreed to play. You are the one that should not be gambling with a teenager. Imagine what Maman would say.”

Lorenzo rolled his eyes and took a sip of his latte. “I am an adult, Charles. Maman does not dictate my every move like you and Arthur.”

“That much is obvious.” Charles said under his breath.

Lorenzo’s eyes sharpened but he turned his gaze to Max, “What brings you to our home, Max? You came so suddenly last night and everyone was so secretive. Charles so rarely brings up his friends that I simply figured he didn’t have any here.”

Max looked towards Charles but Jules sighed, “Can we please not do this?” Jules looked between Charles and Lorenzo. “I don’t think it’s fair for Max to have to bear witness to your sibling squabbles and be placed at the center like tug of war."

Lorenzo took a bite of his food. “I was just asking Max why he wanted to come sleep over at my humble abode. I didn’t think that would rile Charles up.”

“I am not riled up, Lorenzo. I just think you’re being rude to our guest and rude to me.”

“ Our guest? I didn’t realize that a guest could have a guest since you are a guest in my home and so is Max.”

“Family are not guests .” Jules said. “Family is family.”

Lorenzo huffed and took a sip of his coffee. 

Max stared at the once sweet croissant and knew he was done with breakfast. He had a knack for ruining everything he touched and the light air of the morning in the Leclerc household was just another thing he could add to his list of withering fruit.  

“My dad kicked me out.” Max stared down at the croissant on his plate. “That’s why I'm here.” There was silence for a beat but he didn’t look up. “So… thanks, I guess. For letting me crash here.” He looked over at Charles whose eyes were like saucers. “And for letting Charles let me crash here.” He looked up at Lorenzo. “Charles has lots of friends at school here in Abilene. I’m just lucky to be one of them, I guess.”

The eldest Leclerc’s face had taken on an air of interest as if this was the first he was hearing of both Max’s confession and also Charles’ popularity. Maybe Jules hadn’t shared the truth of Max’s stay with Lorenzo nor Charles the football games and his success. 

Jules was the only one brave enough to respond to Max’s admission. 

“You are welcome here anytime, Max. Really. If you ever feel…unsafe… or just like you need a place to go, I’m sure there will always be a place for you here.” He looked pointedly over at Lorenzo.

The Montagasque hummed and took a final sip of his coffee.

“That’s it?” Charles said. “That’s all you have to say?”

Lorenzo set his mug down and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at his younger brother. 

“Can’t you even try to be welcoming?”

Lorenzo sighed and looked bored. “You’re here aren’t you? Maman told me to take you in and I welcomed you into my home even after your episode after Papa’s funeral. Isn’t that enough.”

Max watched as Charles’ eyes grew wide and he whispered “ Connard. ” Then he stood up and stormed off towards his room, slamming the door behind him. Max stared after him for a moment and then back to the two men across the table from him. 

Jules glared at Lorenzo, “Why do you poke him like that?”

Lorenzo sighed and rubbed his chin. “He takes everything too close to heart.”

“He is grieving, Enzo.”

Lorenzo rubbed his hands over his face and then crossed his arms again. “I know. I know. I-I will fix it.” He moved to stand.

Jules shook his head and the other man paused, “No. You’ve done enough.” Jules looked across the table, “Max, do you mind helping Lorenzo clear the table. I will go check on Charles.” 

Max looked at the grip Lorenzo had on his arms. It wasn’t white-knuckled but it wasn’t loose either. Jules cocked his head and waited for a response. 

Max wanted to check on Charles, but Jules had let him stay here and was now asking for this simple favor. 

Max nodded and stood up. He stared at the food on the table but he felt nauseous at the thought of trying to eat again.

He grabbed his plate with a half eaten croissant and Charles’ empty one and walked toward the kitchen. Lorenzo followed with more dishes. 

“You can set them there.” He pointed to a section of the counter next to the sink. “I’ll put them in the dishwasher.” Max nodded and went back to the table to grab more of the breakfast dishes. 

They worked in silence with only the scraping of plates and clinking of glasses as Lorenzo loaded the dishwasher. When the table was cleared and the remaining food was back in the fridge Lorenzo turned to Max in the small alley kitchen and raised an eyebrow, “So what did you do with the money you won?”

Max backed up until his back was against the countertop. “I-I don’t have it. I can’t give it back.” 

The Monagaques’ gaze sharpened. “That’s not what I asked. I asked what you did with it?”

Max shook his head. “I don’t have it. He—my dad—it’s his money.”

“No it’s not. You won it.” He raised an eyebrow. “I expected he would take a cut, but you’re telling me he took all of it?”

Max knew Jos wouldn’t like him talking about this with anyone—least of all someone who lost at the Lion. 

“I should go. Charles—”

“You didn’t get a single dollar from beating me a couple weeks ago?” Lorenzo took a step forward and Max’s hands found the counter behind him. He knew he had nowhere to go. 

Max shook his head. 

“Why do you play for him if you don’t get anything out of it?” Lorenzo’s tone confused Max.

He looked at him. Really looked at him. 

Lorenzo didn’t look angry—at least not any type of angry Max had come to expect from the men around him. He didn’t yell, he didn’t snap, he didn’t raise his voice. His hands were loose at his sides and his gaze was confused in a way Max didn’t think fit with anger. He looked genuinely baffled at Max not having any of the money, as if Max had any right to the money that Jos and Helmut split between themselves on games that Jos negotiated on nights when Jos was running the tables. It wasn’t Max’s money to begin with, it was just Max’s talent that put the money in Jos’ pocket. 

“Because he tells me to.”

“He tells you to?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to?”

Max was puzzled by the question. 

“What?”

“Do you like playing billiards Max?” Lorenzo crossed his arms again and Max began to realize it was a nervous tic when he was thinking. 

“Of course.”

“So do you want to play?”

Max nodded, “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Lorenzo shook his head, “Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry.”

Lorenzo shook his head again. “No, don’t apologize. It’s fine. Just–I know you’re from around here and that’s considered polite but… just don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Good.” 

Max stared at Lorenzo and Lorenzo stared at Max. 

Now what?

“I should go check on Charles.”

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.”

Lorenzo watched him with an expression that Max couldn’t read. There was something calculating about his gaze but Max didn’t think it was in a bad way. Just… different. 

“Okay. I’m gonna… go.”

“Yeah.” Lorenzo turned to the sink and began to pretend to wash the basin.

Max slowly left the small kitchen and saw Jules in the living room.

“Oh, Max, good. Maybe he will let you in.” 

Max nodded and walked quickly but Jules wasn’t done. 

“Max?”

Max stopped just short of the hallway and turned back to look at him.

Jules looked sad. “You’ll have to forgive them. They are both grieving their father still. It is… difficult after someone leaves. Our relationships look so different with the family left behind tasked with holding us together.”

Max immediately thought of Oscar. Of the small boy who came to live with them who refused to speak. 

Max nodded. Jules smiled sadly and then looked back down at what Max realized was a photo album. 

There was a story here, but Max didn’t want to pry just yet into the rapid current running deep below the Leclerc home. 

He walked down the hallway and approached the door slowly. Max wasn’t usually in the habit of following people after they stormed off angry, but Charles was the exception to a lot of his rules. 

He knocked softly and Charles said, “Go away, Jules.”

Max opened the door and stuck his head in. “It’s just me.” 

Charles looked up. He was leaning against his bed with his arms crossed in a shorter replica of Lorenzo, not quite white-knuckled but not calm either. 

Charles’ eyes were sad, but when he saw Max he smiled and seemed to remember the other boy was staying at his house.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to storm off without you. Lorenzo just—he pushes my buttons sometimes.” He looked back at the floor and kicked a shirt into a larger pile by the wall.

“Brothers will do that to you.”

Charles looked back up at Max and smiled softly. “Yeah, I’m not so sure if my fight with Lorenzo is the same as you bickering with Oscar, but yes, brothers all the same.” 

Max walked softly into the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He stared at the many different piles of clothes in Charles’s room.

“Where did all of this stuff come from?”

Charles looked down at it all and laughed. “I don’t really pack light. I brought a couple suitcases over and Jules brought one over for me and my mother sent some things ahead of time. Although most of the books over there are Lorenzo’s. That’s why they’re boring.”

Max looked over at the bookshelf again. It was mostly classics. It didn’t really scream Charles’ style, although Max wasn’t really sure what that was yet. 

“Do you have more stuff in Monaco?”

“Of course. I couldn’t take everything. This is just… everything I thought I would need.” Charles shrugged.

Max smirked and side stepped closer to Charles. “You sure need a lot.” 

Charles rolled his eyes. “You wear the same jeans three times a week, Max. Some of us like to have enough clothes to get through a couple weeks without doing laundry.” 

Max felt his cheeks grow red. “I don’t need more than two pairs of jeans, Charles.” 

“Trust me, Max. You do.” Charles turned to look at him.

“I do not.” Max swung around so he was facing Charles. 

“Do to.” Charles moved closer, a smile sweeping across his face. 

“Do not!” Max took a step forward and mirrored it with his own smile.

“Do to!” Charles was laughing now, his sadness forgotten.

“Do not!” Max’s smile stretched across his whole face.

Charles leaned forward and covered Max’s hand on the bed. “ Trust me these jeans are just not cutting it.”

Max looked down at the hand on his own. Charles was… warm. 

The touch wasn’t unwelcome. If anything, Max could feel his hands tingle with something close to… want. 

He wanted to touch Charles and he wanted Charles to touch him. To be near him. To be…

“You don’t seem to mind them right now.” Max whispered, still looking at Charles’ hand. 

This was dangerous territory. Charles’ face was inches from his own. If he leaned in…

Maybe he should move. 

Maybe he should stop egging Charles on or go into the other room or even say something. 

Warn Charles that Max wasn’t the person to do this with. 

That it wasn’t safe. 

That Jos…

Charles inched closer and Max looked up, all thoughts of his father forgotten.

Charles’ smirk sent a shiver down Max’s spine.

“Oh, I mind the jeans… I just don’t happen to mind the boy wearing the jeans.” 

Charles placed his other hand on Max’s hip and Max felt his eyes widen at the contact. 

This was… 

This was…

Charles bit his lip and looked down at where Max was biting his own.

“Charles, we…we shouldn’t—It’s not—it’s just—I mean it’s—”

Charles brought his hand up to Max's cheek and caressed it. The smirk fell from his face and something more serious came to his eyes. 

“ Cheri , you worry too much.”

Charles leaned forward, and closed the gap between them. 

Max had dreamed about this moment—of Charles caressing his face, of their lips meeting and how it would feel. 

Max had dreamed about it, but it wasn’t anything close to reality. 

Charles’ lips met his and Max took a startled breath in. Charles matched him in the breath and deepened the kiss by pulling their faces together. 

These were not two sets of lips locked in a battle, but in a dance. 

Charles leaned left and Max followed. Charles dipped his head closer and Max reached up to grab the back of Charles' neck as his hands cascaded through the Brunette’s hair. Max felt Charles hum underneath him and he mimicked the sound. Charles nipped at Max’s lip where a moment ago his own teeth had sunk anxiously into pink flesh. 

Max felt a breath leave him that was half gasp and his fingers scraped Charles’ neck. The other boy sighed against his lips as they breathed in unison. Max’s brain was an empty slate. His body relaxed into the comfort of the mattress and they both sat down at the same time. Max’s shoulders sunk away from his ears. He let himself be led by the boy in front of him as they navigated their lips and hands around each for the first time.

At one point Charles’s tongue made contact with Max’s and his brain began to hum. 

No thoughts. 

No worries. 

Nothing. 

Just the sweet taste of Charles’ mouth on his own.

There was light behind Max’s closed eyes and a heavenly taste on his tongue. 

Everything felt… right.

Charles felt… right.

Max felt…

When Charles pulled away breathless, his lips swollen, his face flushed, his eyes wild, Max was sure he looked the same. His heart was racing and he couldn’t catch his breath. It came in short gasps and Max blinked as green eyes stared back at him with such longing and such… such…

“I—”

Charles moved his hand and let his thumb swipe against Max’s lip.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.” Charles whispered while looking at Max’s lips. 

Max felt himself shudder.

“Charlie—”

Charles shook his head. 

“Can you just… not say anything for a second?”

Max nodded. 

Charles’ thumb stroked Max’s lip back and forth and then moved lower to hold onto his chin.

Charles bit his lip and locked eyes with Max, “Can we do that again?”

Max bit his own lip where Charles’ finger had left it tingling in an entirely new sensation. 

This was a bad idea. He should say so.

This would…

There would be…

It would…

He…

Max’s mind suddenly went quiet. 

 

A small hopeful smile graced his lips. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Notes:

I KNOWWWWWWWWW
Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

crying screaming throwing up

:)

Chapter 14: Worries and Woes (The Hierophant reversed)

Summary:

Kimi POV

Notes:

This didn't fit at the end so it gets its own spot
welcome to 13.5

-G

Kimi didn’t really have a way with words. It was something all of his friends and family knew about him. He was a man of action. He didn’t like to quibble over sentences and phrasing. He just did.

When he woke up Sunday morning around 11:00 o’clock, he knew he couldn’t be a man of action about this. Max was too important to him. There would have to be some talk. 

He got dressed and went downstairs to find Sebastian. The other man wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room or his study, but he heard humming coming from the front door. 

Kimi went out to the front porch and saw his husband sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other.

Seb’s eyes lit up when he saw Kimi.

“Good morning, sunshine. I didn’t expect to see you so early since you came in late last night. What was it? 3:00?” Sebastian laughed as Kimi sat down next to him.

“Bwoah, something like that, but it’s already 11:30. The day is practically over.”

Seb rolled his eyes. “I know what time it is, Darling. You are the one that likes to sleep late. I’ve been awake since 7:00 this morning.”

Kimi nodded and looked out at their yard.

Seb set down his book and put one hand overtop his husband’s. “Is something on your mind?”

“Yes. Something has come up.”

Seb set his coffee down on the table in front of them so both his hands were free. “What is it?”

“It’s Max.”

Seb was instantly alert. Kimi could feel his whole body tense where they were touching. “Is he okay? Does he need help? Where is he?”

“Jos kicked him out of the bar last night for losing a game of pool against a repeat player.”

Seb’s eyes scanned Kimi’s face. “Okay? Where is he?”

“Jos kicked him out of the bar because Charles was watching the game and Max was distracted .”

Seb furrowed his eyebrows. “Max doesn’t get distracted.”

“I know.” Kimi stared out at their yard. “I'm worried Jos knows that too.”

“Oh,” Sebastian said.

“Oh.” Kimi repeated. “I think it’s time we sat down and talked with Max.”

“You don’t think—”

“—I do.”

“Oh.”

“I know.” Kimi looked over at his husband.

“Should I call Sophie?”

“No. I don’t think Max knows yet, but I think we need to tell him anyway.”

The two men looked at each other, and Sebastian swallowed slowly as a worried look cemented itself to his face.

There were parts of this life he wished no one had to learn.

Kimi leaned over and gently kissed his cheek. 

“He’ll be okay, Seb. We’ll keep him safe.”

Sebastian looked out at the front yard and nodded absentmindedly. 

“I’ll call Mark to start looking at the paperwork. We’re going to need to be ready when the time comes.”

Kimi nodded. 

"Yes, yes we are." He paused before turning to look out into the distance, mirroring Seb's stare. "We won't go down without a fight."

Notes:

whose POV do you want to see next?

Chapter 15: The Brain . . . (The Hierophant)

Summary:

George + Lewis POV

Notes:

Avid Readers, Newcomers, and all those in between,

Here is a POV I never expected to write but one that actually sparked a lot of joy and lowkey amusement!
Am I a week late? Yeah, maybe....
Am I back at school? Yeah, definitely!
Updates will probably be every 1-2 weeks depending on how much chiseling I have to do in between my homework and exec board related tasks but I promise this fic shall continue
I have at least the next four chapters in the works and the next one I promise you is a doozy
I honestly don't even know if I'm ready for where it may go....
so on that note...
Enjoy!
-G.

(also come chat with me on Tumblr if you're bored and want me to write more! Same username)

George knew what everyone said about him behind his back. 

Teacher’s pet. Snitch. Bookworm. Square . But he didn’t really care. 

He had been top of his class since middle school. He was set to be valedictorian and leave this barren wasteland. He wanted to go where everyone around him could match his intellect. Where people wanted to have smart and stimulating conversations and wanted to talk about the world and not just Friday night football and oil. He knew he could make it out of this place and he didn’t care what names they called him along the way. He was looking at Ivy League schools or New York City or California. He was shooting for the stars.

He wanted out. 

 

He woke up at 5:30 AM on Monday morning with his first alarm and shut it off immediately. He got out of bed and stretched up to the sky then attempted to touch his toes but was still about a finger length short of his goal. He blamed his height, but also refused to do the yoga his mother was always attempting to get him to try. He changed and went down to the gym his parents had crafted out of a section of their basement. After a quick two mile run on the treadmill and a fifteen minute lift to activate his muscles he was back upstairs and in the shower. 

After the shower and getting dressed for the day he sat down and went through the notes his SAT tutor had given him at their last session. The SAT and ACT were coming up in two weeks and George was trying to get a high enough score on both to not have to take either again. He was only in his junior year, but these scores would determine which colleges he could apply to next year and so he wanted to get them done as soon as possible so he could start planning his future. His brother, Benjy, was in his second year of his master’s at MIT and his sister, Cara, was in her third year at the University of Alabama, his mother’s alma mater. It was important that George checked every box and met every expectation leveled at him and far exceeding that of his siblings.

After an hour of studying the science section of the ACT, his timer went off and he finally got up from his desk. 

He looked around his room and clicked his tongue at the mess as if it personally offended him. He quickly made his bed, threw his dirty clothes in the hamper, straightened the school work on his desk, and packed his backpack. 

Downstairs his mother was making breakfast sandwiches for the two of them and smiled when she saw him setting his shoes by the front door, “Good morning, Georgie.” 

He placed a kiss on her cheek, “Morning, Mom.” 

“Your father is working late tonight, so it’s just the two of us. Want to try a new recipe from the cookbook and watch a re-run of the Golden Girls?” She put his sandwich on a plate and set it on the table in front of him. 

George nodded. “Sure, but you pick the recipe. I have a student council meeting and band practice after school so I won’t be home until 5:00.”

She hummed in response as she cut her sandwich and wrapped one half in cellophane to put in the fridge. She always ate half for breakfast and saved half for lunch. Breakfast was with blueberries, lunch was with carrots. 

George and his mother liked a routine. 

George got up and poured two small glasses of orange juice and also a cup of coffee from the pot his mother kept warming at all times by the stove. 

They sat down at the kitchen table and folded their hands to pray. 

“Bless us, O Lord, for these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord, Amen.” 

“Amen.” George responded robotically. His parents were devout Catholics, but he and his siblings had never really gotten the religion bug that was so fond of Southern families. He could fight with them about their faith, the existence of God, the moral failing of the Church, etc. etc. or he could just tag along for the ride and not rock the boat while he lived under their roof. After watching his father and older brother fight about it, George decided wisely that the latter option would be the path of least resistance and keep him on his father’s good side while also keeping him in his mother’s good graces.

He bit into the sandwich and tasted the delicious myriad of flavors his mother’s cooking was known for. The home-made croissant, ham, cheese, pesto, egg sandwich was his mother’s breakfast of choice and had been for the last seven months. She was a creature of habit and had raised her children to be just the same. 

George finished his sandwich and looked at the clock on the stove, 7:30, time to leave for school. 

He stood up, put his plate in the dishwasher, and kissed his mom on the top of the head, “See you later.”

“Have a lovely day, Sweetheart.” She unfolded the newspaper and grabbed his half-finished mug of coffee to take a sip. “And don’t forget to bring the trashcans out please.” 

George hummed in response and set off for school.

 

–

 

George had a packed schedule on Mondays. He had Chemistry, AP Music, English, a tutoring session with a freshman during lunch, then AP Calc, AP Stats, Civics, and a study hall. He tried to do most of his work during the study hall for the next day since after school he had a student council meeting until 4:00 and then band until 5:00. He was the first chair flutist and occasionally played in the pep band when they needed someone. 

George liked keeping busy and tried to have enough hobbies that would look good on a college resumé, but not too many hobbies that he couldn’t perform all associated tasks for each. 

 

He parked his car and made his way into the building, passed huddles of students chatting in the morning and catching up after the weekend. More than once he heard someone in his year mention a party, but he just ignored the chatter and walked briskly towards his locker. He put in the combination and retrieved his books for Chemistry, Music, and English and then made his way to the science classroom. 

After a long drawn out lab session where Alex spilled two different mixtures on the Bunsen burner, George made his way to music.

He didn’t have any of his friends in this class so he listened attentively to the teacher and took detailed notes on theory that he would review later tonight and type up on his computer at home. When the bell rang, the teacher wasn’t quite finished and went over briefly to finish explaining a specific theorist. That meant that George had to hustle to his next class, English, which was in a different wing of the building and he only had just over a minute to get there. He sped out of  the music wing, through the languages section, and then finally into the English wing when he turned the corner and ran straight into a brick wall. 

Or to be more specific, Max Verstappen. 

They both hit the tile floor, George with an “Ooomf” and Max with something of a pained grunt.

When they both looked around and realized it was each other, the yelling began. 

“Ugh, watch where you’re going, Russell!” Max slowly began to stand up and winced as his spine snapped straight. 

“Me? Me? Why were you just standing in the middle of the hallway when the be—”

The Briiiiiiiiinggggggg of the bell interrupted him. “Shit.” George swore. 

“Fuck.”

They both grabbed their backpacks and books from the floor and shuffled quickly down the long hallway towards Mr. Hamilton’s door, shoving each other as they both rushed to open the door first but they were too late. 

It was locked. 

“Shit.” George said again and knocked politely on the wood. 

Mr. Hamilton opened the door and stared at them with an unimpressed look. “I expect my students to be on time for class. You both know that. Have I not made my expectations clear?” He crossed his arms. George could feel the stares of the other 30 students in the classroom as he hung his head and said, “You’ve made that clear, Sir.”

Max nodded. 

“Well then it won’t surprise you both that I’m giving you detention.”

“Detention!” It slipped out of George’s lips before he could stop himself. “No. You can’t do that. Please!”

“Sir, this is the first time we’re late.” Max added. 

Mr. Hamilton looked unimpressed. “I can make it two days of detention or you can both go sit down quietly and I’ll see you after school today in here for an hour.” 

George wanted to scream. He was way too busy to have detention. He would miss the student council meeting! He would be late to band! He would have to tell his parents. My God. He would have to tell his parents . 

He walked quickly into the room staring at the tiled floor as his classmates whispered. When he sat down he saw Charles lean over to whisper to Max. “Isn’t your dad picking you up?” Max nodded slowly and then cut a glare at George as George glared back. 

Of course Verstappen would blame him when this was his fault. He was the one blocking the hallway. He was the one who always got George in trouble!

George had a plan! He always had a plan. And Max Verstappen was constantly in the way.

 

George couldn’t concentrate for the rest of English. All he could think about was missing the student council meeting and how Yuki would be in charge of it without him there. This was infuriating. It was rage inducing. George could feel his blood boiling at the unfair nature of it all. 

When the bell rang, George realized he hadn’t taken a single note. He knew Mr. Hamilton had been watching him, but he didn’t care. 

He turned to Max. “You need to fix this. Now.”

Max stood up and practically growled. “This is your fault. If you hadn’t been running–”

Charles stood up, “Neither of you will get anywhere if you don’t get along. Or at the very least ask him together .”

“Ask him what?” George looked incredulously at Charles. 

Max scoffed and rolled his eyes, “God forbid Russell get his hands dirty. I’ll do it.” Max walked forward through the rows of desks as the other students filed out until it was just the three of them standing in front of Mr. Hamilton’s desk. 

“Sir, I understand that Russell and I were late, but I really need to go home today right after school. My dad needs me to work on a project and he’s taking time off work to pick me up today to make sure I’m home on time.” Max rubbed his arms like he was cold, but the room was stifling. George looked over and Mr. Hamilton’s AC was still broken from last week’s power surge.

Mr. Hamilton looked appraisingly at Max. “What’s your counter offer, Mr. Verstappen?”

“Can we do detention tomorrow after school?” Max put his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. “Please, sir.”

“And Wednesday?” Mr. Hamilton crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. 

George stuttered alive as if someone had turned a switch. “Please, Mr. Hamilton, I also have obligations today after school and on Wednesday, so if we could just come tomorrow…” George trailed off as the weight of his teacher’s gaze fell on him. Hamilton looked between them for a minute.

“Fine. You can come tomorrow for an hour and a half instead of an hour, but if you fight while in detention, then you’ll be coming on Wednesday too. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Max nodded.

“Yes.” George replied.

“All right, now get to lunch.” Mr. Hamilton looked back down at the stack of papers on his desk and pulled out a pen to grade.

The three boys walked silently into the hallway, but Max glared at George once the door had shut behind them.

“Don’t ruin this for me, I have shit to do on Wednesday.” Max barked.

“And you think I don’t?” George scoffed.

Charles pushed them both forward to move them further down the hallway. “Could you at least get down the hallway before you start bickering like children.” 

George rolled his eyes and slipped out of Charles’ reach. “I don’t have time for this. I have to tutor. I have responsibilities. Something you wouldn’t know anything about Verstappen.” George spun on his heel and walked quickly down the hallway towards the library.

He was seething with annoyance at Verstappen’s audacity. 

George had literally never gotten detention before and he had intended to keep that streak until he graduated, but just existing in Max Verstappen's presence meant trouble. Max didn’t care about the rules and George always paid the price for it. The entire time he had known Max, it was as if everything Max did was intended to get under George’s skin.

There was the incident in home economics in their sophomore year that cost him his perfect GPA. There was gym class where Max would purposefully bump into George until they both ended up tumbling on the ground. There was that one time Max convinced everyone to sneak into the senior lounge in the high school to play pool and had egged George on until he agreed to a game. Then Max had cheated and George barely got a ball into a pocket. Verstappen was absolutely infuriating!

He stomped his foot as he made it to his locker to put his books away and grab his tutoring notebook. George was still convinced that when people weren’t looking Max put different balls into the pockets by hand—some kind of cheating was afoot, George just knew it. There was no way Max was that good at pool. 

He slammed his locker. 

Max would get what was coming to him. 

George would make sure of it. 

–

George spent all of Tuesday with a pit in his stomach. He didn’t get up with his first alarm, he skipped his work out, he had to rush downstairs and take his sandwich to-go because he was running late. His mother held out a brown paper bag and only tutted, “We have plans for later, Georgie. Don’t be late.” at him as he ran out the door.

He nodded—dinner, Golden Girls, the same routine they had everyday his father worked late (something that was becoming an everyday event).

Detention was just an hour and a half of his life. It wasn’t the end of the world. It was just a little extra time to do homework at school. And it didn’t need to go on his report card if Mr. Hamilton didn’t report it. He would have to ask to see if that’s where it was headed or not. 

He hoped not. 

But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t seem to tell his heart or the anxious feeling in his chest that this was going to be awful.

 

–

 

Lewis hadn’t always wanted to be a teacher. For a while there he thought he would work with father and find joy as a contractor, but Lewis’ hands never fit quite right around the tools that his father carved a life with. The older man tried to teach Lewis but soon grew tired of his son’s inability to accomplish even the simplest of tasks. Lewis spent more time thinking about why they were doing what they were doing and less time actually doing the work. He was always tinkering with other stuff and never doing what the customer asked for.

His father quickly redirected him away from the contractor line of work and towards literally anything else. 

Luckily Lewis had other dreams. 

He graduated high school in the top 10% of his class at a time in Texas when people didn’t really care about that kind of thing. He went to the local community college outside of Dallas and got his teaching degree in English where he didn’t need his hands to be an architect. He could use his brain, and his brain had always been the thing better suited to him anyway.

When he got a job at a local public school outside of Abilene close to where he’d grown up, he was excited to not have to travel too far from his family. It was a place where the kids didn’t really have a lot going for them. So Lewis felt it was his duty to try and make a difference in their lives and to send some of them off to college. He knew most of them would stick around and work for their fathers and end up doing what he couldn’t do by working with his hands. He knew a lucky few would play football far away and some might even be bright enough to go to schools out of state, but the majority of them would graduate, find a girl or a boy, start a family, and the cycle would continue like it had for generations of people on this patch of dirt. 

–

Lewis found the rotating schedule at their school a little onerous and confusing but it allowed for his free period to change so he appreciated the different times he could plan for class. Tuesday, and Friday he had his 11th grade English class in the first block and Monday, Wednesday and Thursday he had them in the block before lunch.

The 11th grade class was his favorite because some of the boys in that class were obviously going to college and filled a lot of the AP classes so the discussions were thoughtful because most of the class actually did the assigned reading. On the other hand, he also had boys that weren’t going that far from town who liked to try and coast when he wasn’t paying attention. 

He knew Max Verstappen was in the first group but would probably end up working for his father anyway—something Lewis tried to convince Max not to do for almost the entire time he had known him, but the boy was stubborn. 

He knew Lance Stroll would end up getting his degree from a state university since his father would want him to have some kind of college schooling before he worked for the family oil business and inevitably coached football. The younger Stroll wouldn’t be going far for school and definitely not as far as his older sister who was long gone before her cap even flew in the wind.

He knew George Russell would impress everyone as valedictorian and be the only one to head off somewhere far away for school. Somewhere with a good reputation that George would inevitably brag about to his classmates. Lewis had taught his older sister a couple years ago and met their parents on a few different occasions. There was a lot of school pressure and expectation there that Lewis knew George was trying to live up to.

 

Lewis loved living in a small town. There was something about knowing everyone and everything that went on that made him feel at home. He grew up a couple towns over, but he knew everybody here by now like the way someone knows the roads on the way to work. He knew where the potholes were, which corner the cops hid behind, which light took two minutes and which light took five. He knew these students and their families and their stories as well as he knew himself.

That’s why he was a little intrigued when they got an international student from Monaco. It wasn’t really something this town did—mostly because people that weren’t from the dirt and soil that the rest of them had grown up in were other . Things that felt other didn’t really fit into the small town mantra. Lewis was worried when Charles first walked into his room, but Charles Leclerc seemed to be fitting in just fine amongst some of his most boisterous students. 

He noticed the way he whispered to Max most of class, but always seemed to glance at George’s notes when he was confused,  how in the hallway he walked with Lance to all of his classes, and yet still had time to talk to underclassmen in the few spare moments between bells.

When he heard that Charles had joined the football team, Lewis was unsurprised. In Europe kids play soccer. And of course, without a soccer team at the small Texas high school, Charles would have to find his athletic prowess somewhere else.

Lewis had also been the kicker for his high school team so he could appreciate how quickly Charles became embedded in the football culture.

–

The day Max and George had been late to class, Lewis had a rough morning. His car battery died and his neighbor helped him jump it. He was late to school and spilled his coffee on his desk. And he lost a stack of essays that his ninth grade English class needed back. He would find them in due time, but he was supposed to give them back by Wednesday and the timing of returned assignments was important to him. The timing of everything was important to Lewis. There was an order to events that he stood by so the school year ran smoothly.

Suffice to say he was agitated even before the two boys were late to class.

Lewis knew he was being a little harsh, but sometimes it took a punishment to deter behavior in others and Lewis hated tardiness. It also didn’t hurt that the two boys that got detention were two of his most prolific arguers. If George said the sky was blue, Max said it was cloudy. If George said the book meant X, Max said it meant Y. If George said… Max said…etc. etc. etc. Lewis was tired of their fighting—even when it spurred classroom discussion. They could use some time working together on something and Lewis figured it would at least be entertaining if nothing else.

He could’ve easily had them do detention on Monday, but the look in Max’s eyes had stalled him. Lewis wasn’t a stranger to parental expectations and he wasn’t a stranger to Max’s father. The man owned one of the only two bars in the small town and was infamous at school for refusing to come to parent teacher conferences. Lewis was sure Jos only ever came near the building to watch football games or if he was required to pick up one of his sons. Lewis had met him once or twice when his own father had done work in Helmut’s buildings, so he technically knew him, but that was back before Max’s parents had split up.

Lewis knew from experience that Max’s father was quite the imposing figure to strangers and he couldn’t imagine the man was any better when it came to his own children. So when Max asked to have detention on Tuesday instead of Monday and seemed almost adamant that his dad needed to pick him up from school, even when Lewis knew Max normally drove himself, Lewis figured something else was going on.

—

The last bell of the day rang through the quiet classroom and the students filed out slowly. Lewis wiped down his whiteboard and adjusted some of the desks, so they were in straight rows and columns. He listened to the slamming of lockers and the titter of voices as students moved out of the building and towards the parking lot and buses. It was muffled through the closed door but voices still carried in the din of the hallway. 

After most of the chatter faded, there was a knock at his door. He smiled to himself. This would be a fun hour and a half—he could feel it. He opened the door and there was George Russell, on time as usual.

“Mr. Russell, please have a seat.” George sat in the middle seat of the front row.

“Mr. Hamilton, I just want to say first that I’ve never had detention and that I promise it won’t happen again. I didn’t mean to be tardy to class. I—there’s really no excuse—but I had to come from the music wing and our class was held late and I know it’s my job to be on time and I promise I will be for the rest of the semester.”

Lewis smiled softly, “I know, George, and I know it must seem unfair to you that even though this was only your first time being late that I gave you detention, but I felt it was my duty as a role model and as a teacher to remind everyone that there are rules for a reason and when you break them, there are natural consequences.”

George nodded. “Of course. I understand. Thank you again for agreeing to move this to today. I had a busy schedule yesterday with student council and band and I was really worried about missing those meetings.”

“Of course.” Lewis knew George was Class President and president of the student council so it made sense that he had meetings after school. Lewis wasn’t a club advisor so he usually snuck out as soon as his contract allowed him to. 

He looked at the clock on his wall. It was 3:00 on the dot. He would give Max five minutes and if the other boy was late, he would call the office to see if anyone had seen him.

“You can do homework for a minute, George, until Max arrives, then I’ll let you know what we’re doing today.”

George nodded and pulled out a textbook and a notebook.

Lewis sat down at his desk and pulled out his agenda, but secretly watched the seconds tick by as Max Verstappen became later and later. When there were 15 seconds left until 3:05, Lewis picked up the phone on his desk and dialed the office.

“Hello, I’m supposed to have Max Verstappen in my classroom and he’s not here. Could you make an announcement over the loudspeaker that he should come to my room, please?”

Lewis could see George smirking, but he didn’t care. Max was late.

The woman on the other side of the line clicked on the loudspeaker and her voice rang out in Lewis’ room. “Max Verstappen, please go to Mr. Hamilton’s classroom. Max Verstappen, please go to Mr. Hamilton’s classroom.”

A couple minutes later a knock sounded on Lewis’ door. He nodded to himself and got up slowly. 

When he opened the door he was unsurprised to find Max on the other side. 

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re late.”

Max looked down at the floor. “Sorry, sir. I got held up by Mr. Rosberg. He wanted to talk about my practice AP Calc test.”

Lewis’ gaze sharpened. “Did you tell him you needed to come here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did he say?”

Max shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked up at Lewis but his eyes seemed to stray somewhere past him and not actually center on his face. 

“He… he told me you could wait.”

Lewis’ eyes found the ceiling as he moved out of the doorway for Max to come in. 

“Of course he did. Come in.”

Max walked into the room and sat down two chairs over from George without looking at the other boy. He set his backpack down, put his hands up on the desk, and then looked up at Lewis. Lewis shut the door and moved over to lean against his own desk.

“Did everything go all right with your dad yesterday, Max?”

One of Max’s fingers began to tap against the wooden desk, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He turned to look at the clock. “We have an hour and a half to spend here so at 4:45 I will let you go.” 

George stilled, “Mr. Hamilton, I was here on time. Do I have to spend the extra fifteen minutes?”

Louis looked over at him, “Yes, George. This is a collective punishment. You both have to spend the allotted time here.” George cut his eyes to Max, but Max’s gaze stayed focused on Lewis. 

You are welcome to do homework for the first 45 minutes and then I ask that you help me with a task for the next 45 minutes.” Lewis pointed to papers and envelopes laid out on the counter by the windows. I need to send letters home to all the parents about parent-teacher conferences. “After you’re done with your homework or 45 minutes have gone by, if you could put one of each of the documents into the envelopes and then place the envelopes in a pile that would be very helpful. Thank you.”

George nodded. Max’s eyes stayed locked on Lewis, and his fingers kept tapping against the desk.

“Does that seem like something the two of you can accomplish?”

“Yes, of course,” George nodded again and made a note in his agenda.

Max nodded once but didn’t say anything. His eyes had found the desk in front of him as he slouched lower in his chair.

Lewis raised an eyebrow at him, but decided to let things lie.

“All right, this is detention, so no talking. Try to get some work done.”

Lewis moved around to sit at his desk and looked down at his agenda, but out of his periphery he watched the two boys. George looked back down at his homework and began taking notes again. Max stayed seated where he was and didn’t move.

Lewis waited a moment and then looked up at Max when the other boy didn’t make a move to grab his homework.

Lewis looked down and half scribbled a note for an appointment next week while waiting for the boy to start working.

When he looked back up, Max was staring out the window at the football field and the players running laps. Lewis glanced briefly out the window but couldn’t make out any individual students. He knew Max’s younger brother, Oscar, played football and was probably out there, but he couldn’t make him out either. 

“Max?”

Max jerked his head to look over at Lewis’ desk

“I said the first 45 minutes were for you to do homework. That wasn’t a suggestion.” Max didn’t move. His eyes were blank but not obstinate or angry in the way Lewis expected them to be. They were just blank.

Lewis cleared his throat and said slowly, “You should pull out your homework now, please.”

Max blinked and then nodded and reached into his backpack to pull out a textbook and a notebook.

Both boys worked in silence as Lewis answered emails and worked on his lesson plan for the month. All of his classes were reading different books and he liked to keep on top of all the assignments and things he had to do. He looked around his desk for the stack of missing essays, but it alluded him still.

After 45 minutes had passed, he stood up.

He watched as Max’s eyes tracked him and his writing hand fell limply against the desk, but George was lost in thought as he read through what Lewis suspected was a Civics textbook.

“All right, put your stuff away and come over here.” He walked toward the window and the table beneath it. George walked over quickly and Max followed slowly behind. 

“The first paper is just a notice for parent-teacher conferences. The second is a reminder of the stuff we’re doing this semester and the third paper is a slip to prove the parents saw it. Your parents have to sign it and you’ll bring it back by next Friday.” Lewis held up the three different colored pages. “Grab three pieces of paper, fold them in a trifold, and put them in the envelope. Then put the envelope over here. Sound good?”

George nodded. “We can do an assembly line. I’ll fold and Max can put them in the envelopes.”

“What if I wanted to fold?” Max crossed his arms as Lewis sighed.

“Then you should’ve said it first.” George grabbed three pieces of paper.

“Well it’s hard to get a word in edgewise with you around.” Max also grabbed three pieces of paper. 

“Boys…” Lewis started

“Maybe if I could trust you not to mess up the folding, I would let you.” George swiftly folded the pages and put them down on the table.

“Let me? You couldn’t stop me if you tried, Russell.” Max folded the papers and smacked them down on the table. 

The two boys’ voices were growing in volume and Lewis was about to have them quiet down when his door opened. The latch clicked and solid feet walked into the room. Only five people had keys to Lewis’ classroom. 

Lewis and the two boys turned to find Toto Wolff standing in the doorway as the door closed loudly behind him. 

“Ah, Mr. Hamilton, I figured I’d find you here.” The principal walked further into Lewis’s room with a sly smile plastered on his weathered face. The kind of smile that made Lewis want to check his pockets for the ace of spades or look for a dove flying through the air.

“Mr. Verstappen, Mr. Russell, what a surprise. I didn’t realize Mr. Hamilton was the advisor of an afterschool club.” 

The kind of smile con men wear when they know they’re about to sell you something pretty.

Lewis was silent for a moment as Toto’s right eyebrow rose with a silent question. Something wasn’t sitting right in Lewis’ mind.

He crossed his arms. “Not a club, Mr. Wolff, just two volunteers to help me stuff envelopes this afternoon. Isn’t that right, boys?” George looked at Lewis with wide eyes, but Max kept his gaze locked on Toto. 

“Yes that’s right, sir.” Max agreed quickly.

Toto took another step closer to the three of them. “They volunteered to help you stuff envelopes? So this isn’t detention ?” Toto looked directly at Max when he asked.

Lewis felt a kind of tension in the room that he didn’t normally feel around the principal. There was always a tense air to him that made you think twice before you spoke, but this was different.

Toto had a presence. He was a tall man with an air that commanded respect. Students usually slowed while walking near him and conversations hushed when he entered a room. There was a seriousness about him that would make people assume he was in charge of a military school and not a public school in a small town in Texas. He was the kind of man who still thought corporal punishment should be used on students to correct even the most minor of offenses. 

To say the least, he was not always Lewis’ cup of tea.

Toto’s energy made Lewis wary on the best of days, but the way Lewis felt right now was different. Toto was looking at Max the way a tiger looks at a wounded antelope. The way a hawk tilts its head before diving. There was something predatory in his gaze that Lewis did not like.

“No, no detention here. Not for these two star students.” Lewis nodded at both boys. “I asked in class today if anyone wanted to help me with the envelopes for parent-teacher conferences and George and Max were happy to oblige. George didn’t have any club meetings today and Max was waiting for his brother’s football practice to end. So they were both free.”

Lewis let the lie slip through his teeth and hoped he was close enough to the truth that it wouldn’t flag on Toto’s radar.

George finally looked away from Lewis and towards the principal. He nodded quickly. “Yep, I don’t have any clubs on Tuesdays, so this was a perfect way to get volunteer hours.”

Lewis debated internally for a moment whether George would actually ask for hours later. He suspected the answer was in the affirmative. 

Toto took a step forward and Lewis saw Max take a small step back so that his back was against the countertop

Toto hummed. “Volunteer hours… Huh. I could’ve sworn my assistant told me she called Max’s name over the loudspeaker because he was late for 'detention in Mr. Hamilton’s room.'” Toto paused to look at all three of them. “But maybe she was mistaken.”

Lewis didn’t answer and neither did the other two boys. 

If there was a pin to drop, it would’ve been heard over the deadly silence emanating from Toto’s now drawn expression. 

Finally he dared break the spell. “Are you driving Oscar home today, Max?”

“Yes, sir.” Max said quietly.

“So you have your car back?” Toto asked.

“Yes, sir.” Max said in the same tone.

“Huh,” Toto raised his other eyebrow as he spoke in a tone Lewis could only describe as faux surprise. “Last night your father mentioned he took your keys away over the weekend.”

Now it was Lewis’ turn to look over at Max.

He watched as the boy swallowed, throat bobbing, as he nodded slowly.

“So all is forgiven?” Toto smirked.

“Yes, sir,” Max whispered.

Lewis watched as George finally turned to look at the boy next to him who suddenly seemed small.

“I can’t imagine if he thought you had detention that it would stay that way.”

Max’s voice somehow got quieter. “No, sir.” 

Lewis was used to the Max of his classroom—the one who yelled at George and disagreed with his other classmates; who when invited to speak wielded a large personality and a quick bite when anyone spoke against him, but who also rarely spoke without being asked. Lewis could always tell when Max had something to say, even when he didn’t raise his hand because the boy made such intense eye contact that it was as if he were screaming his desires to the high heavens. 

But Lewis had never known Max to be quiet. He had never known Max to whisper.

Whatever Toto knew about Max’s life, Lewis was sure that it was uninvited information. And the way Toto was wielding it, Lewis was sure that Max’s father held it like a weapon just the same. 

“If you excuse us, Mr. Wolff, I can only keep these boys for so long and I really need their volunteer help with these envelopes.”

Toto ended his staring contest with Max and turned to look at Lewis. 

“Of course, Mr. Hamilton. I would hate to disrupt their volunteer hours. You boys have a nice night.” Toto turned with one last tight smile and strode out of the room.

Lewis watched as the door clicked shut behind him and pondered why Toto had come here in the first place, since he didn’t say anything to Lewis, but rather only to Max.

 

Lewis grabbed three pieces of paper from the table, folded them, and handed them to Max.

“Max, can you put these in the envelope, please?”

Max startled from the staring contest he was having with the place on the floor where Toto had stood a moment ago. He glanced down at the paper, then up into Lewis’s eyes.

Max’s blue eyes were swirling with thoughts and concerns and something else—something that Lewis was worried looked a lot like fear—but then Max closed his eyes and shook his head and when he opened them again, they were blank. 

Max took the pages from Lewis’ hands and put them in the envelope and then licked the envelope and sealed it. George immediately grabbed three pieces of paper, folded them, and handed them to Max who put them in the envelope and sealed it.

The two boys continued this pattern without speaking as Lewis watched over them for a minute, but then he quickly moved away and back to his desk—not because he needed to be further away from them, but because he felt by standing there, he was only adding to the tension that still permeated the room. 

—

After 30 minutes of silence save for the rustling of papers and the sealing of envelopes, the door unlatched and another set of shoes sauntered in gracefully on the waxed tile floor.

“Lewis, you left these—Oh! Hi, Max. Hi George.” Nico smiled at the two boys and clutched a stack of papers close to his chest. 

“Hi, Mr. Rosberg.” George said and then turned back to his folding. 

Max didn’t respond but glanced between the two men quickly with furrowed eyebrows before taking the papers in George’s outstretched hand and shoving them in the next available envelope.

Lewis turned to Nico who raised one eyebrow in an unasked question. 

“Detention.” Lewis mouthed to Nico who smirked and nodded. 

“Well anyway…” Nico continued at full volume, “you left these in my room, so I thought I would return them.” 

Nico set down a stack of papers that Lewis immediately recognized as the essays he had misplaced. 

“Ah, so that’s where those got to. I was looking for them.” 

“Well, they’ve been sitting on my desk since Friday, so you must not have been looking too hard.” 

Lewis feigned annoyance, “Mmhmm. Did you not think to tell me?” 

“Well if you couldn’t remember, how could I possibly be tasked with remembering?” Nico threw his hands in the air. 

Lewis rolled his eyes. 

Max coughed and Lewis was suddenly reminded of the audience. 

He turned to them, “Boys, you can go. I think that’s enough detention for one day.” 

George and Max turned to look at him. 

“But—”

“—George, please don’t argue with me when I’m letting you leave early.” 

George nodded quickly, “Right. Thank you, Mr. Hamilton.” 

They set down the papers in their hands and moved to collect their things. 

George paused in his packing. “Mr. Hamilton, since you told Mr. Wolff this wasn’t detention does that mean this won’t go on our report card?”

Nico cut his eyes to Lewis, but Lewis ignored him. 

“Yes, George.” 

“Does that mean I can actually get a half hour of community service?”

Lewis sighed, “Let’s discuss that tomorrow.”

George nodded again and picked up his stuff “Of course. See you in class tomorrow.” Then walked briskly out the door. 

Max slung his backpack over his shoulder and looked appraisingly at the two men. 

“So if it’s not going on our report card…” Max trailed off

“…then it’s like it didn’t happen.” Lewis finished. “Which means there’s no written record of it for anyone to see.”

Max nodded slowly and looked at Mr. Rosberg. “Do you…” His eyes flicked once to Lewis but then landed back on Nico, “Do you still want me to get my test signed, sir?”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Max. Just because our conversation got cut short by what I’m now realizing was detention doesn’t mean you can evade a parental signature. You knew there was a test yesterday and that you needed to study over the weekend. And you obviously didn’t. When you apply yourself in this class your grades are exemplary but I’m afraid that anything below a D, which includes the D- on your exam, must be sent home for a parental signature. It’s school policy. If at the end of the year you have more than three tests with a grade like that you will not be allowed to take the AP test. Something I’m sure you know, since this isn’t your first AP course.” 

Max worked his jaw, “Yup.” he popped the ‘p,’ “Got it.”

Nico sighed, “It’ll be fine, Max. Let’s go over it during lunch tomorrow or during your first block study hall and we can see what you missed. But you have to bring the test back with a parental signature and next time you know that there’s a test I would recommend bringing your book to wherever you are. I know you said you weren’t home over the weekend, but next time you should really bring your book with you to study or prepare when you know there’s a test on Monday.” 

Max looked like he wanted to say something, but then he clamped his mouth shut and nodded at Nico. Then he looked up at Lewis like he also wanted to say something to him, but then just shook his head and mumbled, “See ya tomorrow.” He shuffled out of the room and the door clicked behind him. 

Lewis watched him leave and couldn’t shake the confusing thoughts swirling through his brain over the tension with Toto and the instant change in the teenager’s demeanor. 

He truly hadn’t recognized the boy in front of him a half hour ago. 

But before he could voice any of this aloud, strong hands pushed his shoulders back against the whiteboard and lips came crashing down onto his own.

Nico tasted like coffee and slightly like nicotine as if he had smoked a few hours ago but tried to mask it with an afternoon pick-me-up. 

Lewis let himself be pressed against the board as his lips moved to kiss his boyfriend back. He was sure he also tasted like coffee and smiled at the thought. 

After a single, sweet moment he pushed Nico off of him—not aggressively, just enough to get the other man’s attention.

“Nico, not here. It’s too risky. Come on, let's go back to your place.” 

Nico huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes but backed up a few feet from Lewis. “Fine, fine, but you’re cooking tonight.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” 

Both men smiled at each other and shook their heads in unison. Something about the first year of their relationship still left them giddy like a couple of school girls crushing on the same boy.

Lewis felt a flutter in his chest as he shooed Nico out the door. “I’m just going to clean up in here and then I’ll leave. I’ll be there in twenty minutes tops.”

“Promise?” Nico’s sultry smile glazed across his face. 

“I promise. I promise.” I smile stretched across Lewis’ cheek bones. “Now go.” He pointed to the door and Nico left with an eye roll and something Lewis could only describe as a giggle. 

 

Lewis shook his head and looked around. He couldn’t remember what was just bothering him now that thoughts of Nico’s lips fell to the forefront of his mind. 

He left the stack of essays on his desk so he could hand them out in the morning, packed his bag, and shut off the lights. 

 

As the door clicked behind him, he remembered the envelopes and the boys who helped him; but it was 4:45, detention was over, and there was nothing that could be done tonight. 

 

It would be better for Lewis to ponder in the morning. 

 

Or maybe later over a class of wine and Nico’s company. 

 

Either might shed light on what was going on with a certain blue-eyed student and the tangled web of people stuck spinning in his wake. 

Notes:

hehehehehheheheheheh

Who saw that one coming?

👀

Chapter 16: Chapter 16: Losers and Low Blows (The Emperor Reversed)

Summary:

Oscar & Max POV

Notes:

Hello all,

this fic ruined me this week, not gonna lie. It was.... devastating to write and took a lot out of me in ways I am still processing.
I'm so in love with these characters and where they're going and I promise there's comfort on the horizon, but damn if this isn't sitting at the gates of hell.
Anyway...
I'm so happy to have such a lovely community of people to share my work with. Your comments are incredible and really keep me going even when I lose the plot.
Thanks for all the words of encouragement and for all the joy in the chiseling and I hope I don't lose you here.

All my love and stay safe out there,
G.

Oscar had a bad feeling about the game from the moment he woke up. 

He stretched to the ceiling then down to touch his toes. He turned one way and then another trying to shake the worry from his bones, but it didn’t leave. He took a deep breath and then another and then another, but he couldn’t shake it. Every time he attempted to settle his quickly beating heart, the feeling in his gut got worse. 

His skin felt hot and then cold and then all of a sudden he was shaking from nerves. 

He poked his face and said ‘ahhhh’ while looking in the bathroom mirror, and everything seemed fine, so why did he feel awful?

He avoided breakfast and shook his head ‘no’ when Max offered him a banana from the counter. He knew if he ate anything right now he would vomit. His stomach was rioting and the nausea was creeping up his throat minute by minute. 

Max tried to joke around with him on the way to school about Mr. Hamilton’s broken AC and Lando’s new haircut and even the game tonight, but Oscar just mumbled quiet responses and leaned his head against the cool glass of the window until Max gave up and turned the music up. 

The car window did nothing to cool his warming skin. It felt like his body was fighting him, and he couldn’t figure out why. 

When they finally got to school he stepped out of the truck and swayed where he stood for a second as if the ground underneath him had become a rolling ship on a tumultuous ocean.

When he finally settled back to earth, Max was looking at him like he had two heads. 

“Are you okay, Oscar?”

He nodded, “Yeah, fine. Just… tired.” 

Max shrugged and walked over to the school doors, leaving the other boy to stand in the parking lot and wonder what was going on.

–

The day passed in a blur. 

He didn’t remember going from class to class or anything that was said. 

At one point Lando handed him notes to copy in Mr. Hamilton’s class but he just put them in his backpack to look at later. He knew that trying to copy them right now would be pointless. His brain was fried beyond comprehension.

He felt like he was moving through a haze. As if the moors had opened up around him and all he could see was fog.

As the hours ticked by, his nausea only grew worse. His stomach began to churn and bubble of its own accord and it was all he could to keep the bile at bay where it belonged.

His stomach was one thing, but his mind was another. Thoughts of the football game never ceased their rapid swirl around his skull and at one point he pressed his hands against his ears as if to block out the sound from within. 

Something was wrong, something was very wrong but he couldn’t figure out what it was. 

He shouldn’t be nervous. This was a team they had played a couple weeks ago and they had won. 

But something about the way he had woken up this morning, seemed to amplify all of his nerves. 

His head was spinning, his hands were shaking, at points throughout the day he could barely hear other people around him, and his stomach was… ugh. 

He felt lost in his own head and trapped in a damaged body. It was torture. 

–

By the time 5:00 rolled around, he was nothing short of a mess. His skin was hot one second and cold the next, the lights were too bright on the field, the sounds of the game and the ref’s whistle were deafening. 

When Coach turned to talk to him, all Oscar heard was running water. 

When Coach patted his shoulder and pushed him out on the field, Oscar knew she was supposed to kick the ball but he had lost all other connection to the field in front of him. 

Where was he supposed to go? 

How many minutes had it been?

Was this the first time he was kicking tonight or the second?

He tried to take a deep breath but it got caught in his throat and he coughed and coughed as his windpipe tried to clear itself of phlegm and bile.

All he had to do was kick the ball. He knew somewhere in the back of his brain that he was good at that.

And yet the calm wouldn’t come. 

The ease he usually felt just before the run up to the ball was nowhere to be found. The joyous little moment of silence where the crowd faded away and kicking became his only purpose was muddled through the blades of a blender. 

He looked at the other boys in the huddle as if he didn’t know them. He spoke, but he didn’t hear himself talk. He clapped his hands together, but he didn’t remember moving his arms.

Then it was over.

Logan was placing the ball on the ground and Oscar was running forward and swinging his right foot, it made contact but the ball did not soar through the air like it usually did, instead it tumbled forward striking on all the wrong spots and barely landed in the endzone.

Fuck.

Oscar was mortified. His chest felt tight and he struggled to take in a breath. Streams of sweat dripped down his face and for a second he thought he was crying.

He stood vacant on the field until Logan grabbed his shoulders and walked him toward the sidelines. 

He hadn’t fumbled a kick like that since middle school. 

Oscar tried to listen to Logan, but the words weren’t coming through. He heard a ringing in his ears and then Coach Stroll was in front of him, but there was no sound. Coach eventually pointed to the bench so he sat down on the cold metal, but he was burning from the shame of messing up. He could feel the blush creeping up his neck and across his face and finding a tipping point on his forehead. 

Charles said something to his left and Lance said something to his right, but Oscar just shook his head. He couldn’t hear either of them. 

He couldn’t hear either of them.

He was gonna throw up. His breath came in short gasps and and then slowed to a large deep breath and then quickened back to the shallow gasps and then slowed again in a half-dazed hyperventilation.

He couldn’t breathe.

One minute went by or maybe thirty—it was hard for Oscar to tell— before the whistle blew again. Lance pulled Oscar off the bench and pushed him back onto the field.

This time in the huddle Logan spoke. Oscar watched his lips move and tried to make out the words but before he could, Logan clapped Oscar on the shoulder and nodded. The blonde looked more confident than Oscar felt. 

He looked around the field and the lights blinded him for a moment. When the world came back into focus, he saw the crowd cheering, but thunder roared through his skull where the sound should be.

Logan set the ball down, and Oscar ran forward to kick. This time the ball soared.

Soared. And soared.

And swung to the left.

Oscar stared at the ball as if it had glitched. As if it was broken. 

As if this were a dream.

But this was not a dream.

Oscar shook his head and walked off the field by himself this time. 

He took his helmet off and looked at Charles, “Is this a dream?”

“A dream? No, but it’s okay…” Charles’ lips kept moving but no sound came out.

Oscar looked around, looked down at his own hands, and at the grass stains on his socks. He wondered for a moment if he was alive. Maybe this was a dream or some alternate reality or purgatory. Or…

But no.

Oscar was sure

This was real.

And he was in hell. 

 

He sat back down on the cold bleacher bench and held his head in his hands. He pulled his hair sharply and pain shot through his skull. He winced and then groaned. Not a dream. This was not a dream 

He shook his head one way, and then the other. He wiped his face down with a towel and looked at the sweat and grime on the otherwise clean white cloth. 

He felt his forehead and it felt hot. 

He turned sharply to Lance.

“Do I feel warm to you?”

Lance brought his hand up to Oscar’s forehead and the look on his face stopped Oscar dead in his tracks. 

“Oh no.”

Lance yelled down the bench. “Hey, can I get the trainer over here?”

Hulk walked over and said something to Lance but it was lost in the rushing water between Oscar’s ears.

Then all of a sudden a hand grabbed his jaw sharply and Oscar flinched. 

He heard a noise and then a thermometer was in his mouth. 

“Shit. He’s got a 101° fever.”

It wasn’t a dream. Oscar was sick. 

He sat back on the bench with a sigh of relief and his neck found the cool metal to lean against. He didn’t lose his touch or forget how to play football. He was literally sick. 

All day he was just sick. 

That’s why he was nauseous. 

That’s why his head hurt. 

That’s why he couldn’t hear anything and felt so out of it. 

He was just sick. 

This wasn’t the end of the world or the end of his football career, this was just a minor setback he could fix with meds. 

“Oscar, we’re gonna have to call your dad.”

Fuck.

He jolted forward and looked up at the stands. 

“No.”

A fever would be enough for Coach Stroll to forgive him for the shitty kicks, but Jos wouldn’t care that Oscar was sick. He would only care that Oscar had embarrassed himself and failed at the one thing he was supposed to do. He had failed twice.

Oscar scanned the bleachers from left to right and saw no signs of his adoptive father. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t here. Or worse that he was here but after the first kick he left. 

Oscar felt his chest tighten, not from whatever illness was coursing through his veins, but instead from the thought of what would happen when he went home.

“No.”

A whistle blew and Lance pushed Charles onto the field. Oscar tried to watch, but Hulk stood in front of him

“I have to escort you to the locker room, bud. Sorry, school policy.” 

Oscar shook his head. “No, no I want to watch Charles.”

“No can do, sport. We can’t have you around all these people and you should really take some medicine to reduce that fever. I can call someone. Is there anyone here that can drive you home?”

Oscar stood up and looked out at the bleachers looking for a familiar face. Finally he saw one.

“Yeah, Sebastian. Sebastian Vettel.”

 

—

 

Max sat down at a stool at the bar on Friday afternoon at 7:30 with his homework ready to go. 

When Danny saw, he had to hold his stomach from laughing so hard. “Maxie, Maxie, please! Don’t you have better things to do than calculus? You’re seventeen, Max! If I was your age…” The other man looked off into the distance as if reminiscing and his laughter slowly stopped.

“If you were my age you would have calculus homework, dummy.” Max waved him off and kept working on his problem set. 

Then Carlos took a hit. “Maxito, what is this? It’s a Friday night, the heat has finally cut, it’s football season, and yet you’re sitting here before the locals show up doing homework that can’t be due until Monday. Where is your fire? Where is your youth?”

“I’m putting my fire into trying to finish this. Go away.” Max shooed him away too. 

The two men looked at each other and laughed. Danny turned the music up behind the bar and started dancing. Carlos joined in and juggled a bottle and a shaker for a minute. The one couple sitting in the bar clapped for him but then went back to their drinks. 

“Damn I need to learn to do that.” Danny stopped laughing and watched Carlos for a minute as the other bartender juggled and juggled and finally caught both items. He took a bow toward Danny and then a bow toward Max.

“Ha! You might as well not try, hermano. You will never look as cool as me even if you do.” Carlos swung his head back and his hair settled in a swoosh on his head. 

Daniel just rolled his eyes. 

“Guys, please, I need to finish this before we get going tonight. Come on.”

Carlos juggled once more and then shook a drink out and poured it in a glass on the bartop. He set the clear bubbly liquid in front of Max. “Maybe a drink will take that edge off, Maxie?” Carlos wiggled his eyebrows. “It would at least help you feel less stressed.”

Daniel grabbed the glass and downed it like a shot. He slammed it back down hard on the bartop and shook his head, “Phew. That was strong, Carlos.” 

Carlos laughed at Danny. “I can’t believe you drank that. It was a joke! I wasn’t actually going to have him drink it.” 

“Nah,” Danny shook his head, “We can’t let Maxie think we’ll actually serve him alcohol. That would be silly.”

Daniel smiled at Carlos, but Max could hear the bite to his words. Max knew Jos would kill Daniel if he thought they were serving him alcohol and, although Carlos was still pretty new here, Max knew that Danny was tired of being the only bartender that actually followed the rules. And the only bartender that got in trouble when other people didn’t.

A door slammed behind Max. 

From the snap of the latch and the heavy footsteps that followed, it was Jos’ office. 

“Shit.” Max whispered and moved to clean up his school stuff from the bartop. He wasn’t supposed to do schoolwork if there were customers.

“Oh, Maxxx!” Jos swung his name from the other side of the room. 

Max slipped off the stool and crammed his notebook and textbook into his backpack, then spun around to look at the approaching man. 

“Dad.”

“I want a game.” He clapped Max on the shoulder when they were finally close enough and Max winced. 

“Okay. When? Against who?”

“Against me. Right now.”

Max bristled “A-against you?”

Jos laughed. “Yeah! Is it so hard to imagine playing your old man? We used to play all the time. Don’t you remember? Back when I could still win every game.”

Max looked over at Daniel but he looked as surprised as Max felt.

Max definitely remembered Jos winning, but mostly Max remembered Jos cheating and trying to see if Max was stupid enough to point it out.

“Uh yeah, sure. Let’s play.”

Jos pulled his keys out and grabbed his lucky stick from the locked rack behind the bar. Max wasn’t allowed to touch the locked sets of pool cues. Most of them were worth thousands and Jos was convinced that Max would break one. The elder Verstappen walked over to his favorite table and racked a set of balls as Max stood awkwardly on the other end.

“Well, are we gonna play for them or what?”

Max felt his eye eyebrows scrunch. “Huh?” 

Who was this person?

“Come here.”

Max’s feet didn’t move. 

“Come here!” Jos pointed to the ground near his feet.

The lead in Max’s legs gave way and he stepped forward until he was an arm’s length away from his father. 

The normally cold eyes were filled with a mirth that Max hadn’t seen in a while. “Let’s do rock, paper, scissors. That’ll see who will break.”

Max nodded. “Right, right, of course.”

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” Jos held up a fist and so did Max. They went again.

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot! Ahh, of course you’re the winner!” Jos laughed as Max’s scissors took his paper.

Max couldn’t help himself—he smiled. “You know me.”

Jos just rolled his eyes and playfully shoved him forward, “Go ahead, kid, break.”

—

“Watch this, Max.” Jos made a trick shot where he spun the cue ball across the table and tapped two balls into two different pockets. 

Max’s eyes widened. “Can you teach me that?” 

Jos nodded. “Come here.”

Max walked over with a light feeling in his chest. 

His father was a hard man to understand, but on very rare occasions this seemingly kind and fun version of him popped out of nowhere. It always surprised Max, and—if he were honest—it also made the later switch back to the father Max knew so much harder; but Max wouldn’t waste the short time he had worrying about when that could happen. He would just take the current moment in stride. 

“Hold the stick like this.” Jos demonstrated and then readjusted Max’s arms carefully. “There ya go.” He lined up. “Then hit the ball in the bottom right corner so it spins to the left.” He demonstrated slowly and the ball spun out. “You want the tip to make contact on the closest point to the cue ball so that it’ll continue to spin and hit the second ball.” Jos pointed to the six and then the four. “Here and here. See?”

“Yeah, I think I got it.”

“Good, good, give it a try.”

Max lined up the stick just the way Jos had shown him. Then he struck the cue ball and sent it spinning in the direction of the six. The ball spun against the six and knocked it into the pocket and then kept spinning, but missed the four by a hair.

Max looked up nervously as Jos towered over him, but the man just smiled and patted him on the back.

“Ah, you’ll get it next time. Reset them and try again.” 

Max did as he was told. He took a deep breath and struck the cue ball again. This time, both balls went in their designated pockets.

“Atta boy!” Jos ruffled his hair and then clapped loudly in the bar.

“Ricciardo, did you see that? My boy’s a pool shark! He’s gonna make millions!” Jos yelled across the space. Danny nodded and continued wiping down the counter. He had an indiscernible look on his face and Max didn’t take the time to try to make sense of it. He was too busy trying to hide his blushing face as his father’s praise went straight to his head. 

Then a sound cut through the bar that Max didn’t hear too often. Jos’ cell phone rang.

There were only a few people that called Jos on his cell phone and not his office phone. Usually, it was Helmut looking for something. Occasionally, it was the men Jos played poker with. And even less occasionally, it was Sophie. 

Max set his pool stick down as Jos looked at the caller ID on the phone.

“Ah, it’s just Toto. I don’t need to answer.” He set the phone down on the wooden edge of the table.

Max nodded, “Well, it’s still your turn, whenever you’re ready.”

Jos hummed and looked out at the field in front of him. He moved around the table and tried to find the best angles to hit the three balls still remaining. Finally he found one he liked, leaned over, lined up the stick, and rammed it against the cue ball. The seven nailed itself in the corner pocket just as Jos’ cell phone began to ring again.

Max stiffened. 

It was weird enough for Jos’ phone to ring once but a second time… Max knew something was wrong. 

He could feel it in the way the air shifted around his father. The way the shadows grew darker, and the sun on his face faded behind a cloud. This was the moment Max had been waiting for. He checked the clock above the neon drink signs. Jos’ mood had lasted three hours. Not a new record, but definitely a quick turnaround. 

“What?” Jos snapped.

He paused for a moment and his face darkened into a scowl. His eyes narrowed.

Max set his cue stick down and backed away from the table. He turned to look at Daniel and found the Australian with a somber look on his face as both hands held the bar top as if gripping for dear life.

“What!” Jos thundered.

Max took another step backwards

“He did WHAT!” 

Was Toto telling Jos about Max’ detention?

Was Max finally going to get the punishment Toto thought he deserved?

As Max took another step back, Jos held up a finger and Max’s body stopped where it was and coiled tightly. His breathing became shallow and his limbs locked into place.

Was a single detention worth this much anger? 

Was anything?

Jos glared at his older son and Max felt pinned by the gaze. He envied the butterflies in their glass frames held down by nails at this moment—even they seemed more free.

“Max…” Danny whispered behind him.

But Max didn’t turn around.

Jos watched him like a snake—watching for even the smallest of movements as he listened to the voice on the other side of the phone

This was it.

Max was thoroughly and royally screwed.

“I’ll handle it.” Jos took his phone away from his ear and ended the call.

Jos set his phone down carefully on the wooden edge of the pool table and stood there motionless for a moment as if in shock.

Then, in a movement, both violent and sudden, he grabbed the cue ball from the pool table and threw it against the nearest wall.

The ball cracked into the siding of the wood and slammed against the floor as it rolled back toward the pool table.

Max stumbled back as if he’d been struck and backed up as far as he could away from the impending danger. His back hit the bar and Daniel and Carlos both turned to look at the splintered boards on the wall.

Jos breathed heavily for a moment and then picked his phone back up and called someone.

He waited and waited and waited.

He snarled.

He hung up and called again.

He waited and waited and waited.

Max felt himself shaking with dreaded anticipation as his father’s anger grew into a storm.

Jos slammed his phone down on the pool table and stalked quickly up to Max who braced himself against the bar for whatever was about to follow.

“Give me your phone.” 

“What?”

“Now!”

Jos’ tone left no room for argument

Max pulled out his phone and slowly handed it to Jos. 

The man snatched it from his hand and opened it with the passcode. He found Oscar in Max’s contacts and called. The phone rang and rang but eventually stopped at Oscar’s voicemail. 

Jos tried again. Voicemail. 

Jos tried again. Voicemail. 

Jos huffed a quick burst of air out of his nose and threw the phone at the ground. “Ah! Dad!” Max started towards the phone but quickly stalled his movement as his father once again shifted his gaze. 

Max didn’t know what was going on or why Toto had called or why Jos was calling Oscar, but something felt horribly wrong.

“Get your shit. If he’s not gonna answer, we’re gonna find him.”

“We?” Max couldn’t stop himself. 

Jos glared and stepped forward. His shadow slunk until it covered the ground between them and Max ducked his head to look at the floor. If he couldn’t see the anger maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t strike.

“Do you know who just called me?”

Max shook his head. 

“Your principal called to tell me that Oscar fucked up his kicks and cost them the game.”

Max felt his eyes widen as the muscles pulled taut in his face.

It was one thing for the football team to lose.

It was another thing for them to lose because of Oscar.

That had never happened before.

“Toto had money on the game, Max. And he would like your brother to either pay up or apologize.” Jos glared.

They were in uncharted territory and Max didn’t like it.

“Toto said the ball was so far from the endzone that Stroll took him off the field and sent him home early.”

Max snapped his neck up to look at Jos. 

This was bad. This was very bad. 

Jos took a step forward and Max shrunk back against the wood. He knew Carlos and Danny were somewhere behind the bar watching, but he couldn’t turn around to see them.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Max, but He. Isn’t. Here.”

Max shuddered. Oscar was a dead man when Jos found him.

“So now we’re going to find him.”

Jos shoulder checked Max and pushed past him to the bar.

We? 

WE?

Max turned and before he could stop himself, “Dad, I don’t think—”

The backhand was so quick that Max didn’t see it coming. It cracked against his cheekbone and snapped his head to the right. He spun and landed on his hands on the wooden floor. His vision swam in front of him for a moment and he saw stars. Then Carlos was down on the ground with him.

“Max, are you okay?” He held out both hands to the seventeen-year-old.

Max grabbed onto him and let himself be pulled up.

Carlos helped him to his feet and he swayed once but Jos was already moving. 

He slammed his hands on the bartop. “Ricciardo, you're in charge until we get back. Don’t do anything stupid. If I have to put out another fire tonight, I might just let this place burn to the ground.”

Jos turned. “We’re leaving, Max! Move!

Jos stormed out of the bar and slammed the door behind him. He yelled something to Kimi but Max couldn’t make it out.

“You-you don’t have to go with him.” Carlos said quickly while placing his hand gently on Max’s smarting cheek. But Max wasn’t listening. He stumbled toward Daniel and away from Carlos’ worried expression.

“Danny—”

“Max, you need to be careful.” Daniel’s eyes were wide but his mouth was set in a hard line.

“Danny, he—” 

“—If things get out of hand, call Christian.” Daniel handed Max the phone Jos had thrown to the ground.

“Danny—” 

“—Promise me, Max.” 

“I—”

“—Promise me.” Daniel’s eyes searched his face and the worry there grew into something more serious. Something Max was scared to understand. 

Max swallowed hard. 

“I promise.”

—

If Coach Stroll had sent Oscar home, then he wouldn’t be at the field. And the younger boy didn’t have his own car or a license, so Jos drove to the only other place Oscar would be. 

 

Max shuffled up to the porch and rang the bell. Kimi was still at the bar, so only Seb would be home. 

When Seb came to the door, Max could see the worry written into every line of the man’s face. 

“Max? What are you doing here? It’s 11:30.” He opened the screen door but didn’t step out onto the porch.

“I’m here to get Oscar.”

Seb wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion. “Oscar told me he was spending the night here. Did something change?”

“Seb, I just need—”

Seb reached out suddenly toward Max’s face and the boy involuntarily stepped back, “What happened to your face?”

Max grimaced. He had forgotten about the backhand and the shiny gleam of rings on Jos’ fingers earlier. The usual rarity of jewelry was starting to become a more common problem.

Max felt his face and when he pulled his hand away crusted blood coated his fingers. He didn’t dwell on it.

“Seb, please. I’m just supposed to get him so we can go back home.”

“If I don’t look at that cut, no one else will and it will get infected. You’re coming inside, Max, end of discussion.” Seb gestured for Max to come past the doorway but the truck parked at the end of the driveway honked its horn and Max jumped.  He shook his head and focused back on his uncle. 

“Please, Seb, you’ll just make him angrier.”

Seb looked past Max toward the jacked up black F-150 out on the street in front of his house. The windows were tinted so that Seb couldn’t see the man inside, but he knew Jos was staring at the two of them on the porch. Seb’s eyes widened.

“Max, what’s going on?” He scanned Max who shrunk in on himself and didn’t answer. 

“I need Oscar, Seb.”

“Where else are you hurt?”

“Is Oscar here, Seb?”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you need Oscar? Why is Jos here, Max?”

Max swallowed slowly and searched his uncle’s face. “They lost tonight and Oscar—”

“—I know Oscar’s football team lost tonight. What I don’t know is why your father is angry enough to hit you and then come here looking for Oscar because I sure as hell know it can’t be over some silly high school football game.” Seb looked at Max with an almost incredulous stare. 

“Please tell me it’s not over some silly high school football game.”

Max stared blankly at Seb and didn’t respond. 

Seb crossed his arms. “That’s where the cut’s from, right? He hit you?”

Max sharpened his gaze. Seb wore pity the same way Max wore armor. It was written in every move of his muscles and lined every inch of his face. 

Max shook his head ‘no.’

Seb set his jaw and raised an eyebrow with his arms still crossed. “What happened to your face then?”

“I fell.”

“You wanna try that again?”

The response was immediate. “He’s allowed to hit me, Seb.” It came out sharper than Max meant it to.

Seb’s eyes grew wide for a second before his face settled back into neutral.

“Is it just you?”

“What?”

“Is it just you?”

“You mean has he hit Oscar?” Max raised an eyebrow. “This is Texas, Seb. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but parents hit their kids and no one bats an eye.”

“I bat an eye.” 

Another honk from behind him, another full body flinch.

Max rolled his shoulders back and worked his jaw before answering. “Yeah, he’s hit Oscar, but he doesn’t do it that often. Usually it’s just me.”

“Not has he in the past, Max. Is he going to tonight?”

Max frowned at Seb and didn’t respond.

“Because if you think that there’s even a miniscule chance that he’s going to hurt Oscar, then I can tell you right now, he’s not here.”

“Seb…” 

“No, Max.” Seb shook his head. “Oscar isn’t here. He didn’t come home with us tonight. I have no idea where he is.” 

“He’s allowed to hit us, Seb.” 

“I bat an eye, Max. And I’m not helping someone hurt a child. Oscar isn’t here.”

“He’ll know you're lying.”

Seb gestured toward the truck. “I don’t care if he knows I’m lying. He can’t come into my house without my permission and I’m telling you that Oscar isn’t here. I don’t know where he is.” Seb shrugged and looked around as if to prove a point. 

Max felt his chest grow tight at the implication his uncle was making. If Seb tried to tell Jos that Oscar wasn’t here…

Shit.

“It won’t work like that, Seb. It’ll just make him angrier, please.” Max usually knew better than to beg, but Jos had told him to get Oscar and Seb was making that very difficult.

Seb crossed his arms again. “No, Max. I’ not offering Oscar up as a sacrificial lamb. Don’t ask me to. I have half a mind to call the police.”

“Seb, how many times do I have to say—”

“—It doesn’t make it right, Max!” Seb threw his hands up again. 

“No, Seb—” 

A long honk blared from behind Max. His shoulders jumped up around his ears and he turned around. The dark windows made it hard to see Jos, but Max knew the shadows that were waiting for him behind the glass. He could feel the leash around his neck pull tighter with each second he stood on the porch and didn’t do what Jos asked. It burned through the thin skin above his collarbone and Max briefly remembered the way his neck had looked coated in purple and black bruises. What it had felt like when hands cut off his breathing and slammed him against the wall. When he briefly wondered what it would feel like to die.

He turned sharply from the truck and looked over at Seb. He had to get Oscar and then get out of here.

“Please, Seb. Please.”

He was supposed to go in, get Oscar, and leave. That was it. That was the plan. Instead Seb stood firmly in his way.

“Come inside, Max.”

Max rooted his feet to the ground as the ache of longing took over his chest. He wanted so badly to walk into Sebastian’s house and never leave. He wanted so badly to sleep in the guestroom and not have to worry about someone hurting him in the middle of the night. He wanted to wake up and sit with Kimi on the porch in perfectly calm silence. He wanted Oscar to be safe. He wanted all of it. 

But Seb was asking him to make a choice that would only lead to pain. Seb was asking him to choose pain blindly and hope for the best. 

Max didn’t have that kind of hope left.

If Max walked in Seb’s house toward the feeling of safety, Jos would inevitably drag him kicking and screaming back to the bar. And if Jos had to do that, Max wouldn’t be able to leave his room for weeks while he recovered from the carnage. 

Jos had only put him in the hospital once, but when Max closed his eyes and saw the repercussions of Seb’s words, he knew this could easily cause a second trip.

“Um, Dad?” A small voice said from the top of the stairs.

Seb didn’t even turn around, “Lando, stay in your room and stay away from the windows. I’m handling it.” 

“But, Osc—”

“No. Stay in your room.”

“Okay.” Max couldn’t see Lando, but he knew the other boy had gone back to his room from the squeaking of the stairs. 

“Come inside, Max. I can keep you safe. I’ll call the Sheriff and get Jos off my property and you can make a statement and—”

Max took a step back from the door like Seb had burned him. His uncle couldn’t keep him safe. He was going to get him killed.

“No.” 

“Max, please—”

“—Seb, it’s one thing for you to lie about Oscar, but you can’t lie about me. I’m here. He knows I’m here. He brought me here.” 

Seb wouldn’t listen. “Once you come inside and I lock the door then he can’t come in.”

Max was getting frustrated by all of Seb’s idealistic ideas. “He’ll have you arrested for kidnapping.” 

“Not when they see whatever else you’re hiding. They’ll protect you.”

Max took another step back and held his hands out as if Seb was going to start checking the skin under his shirt. “No, Seb.”

Seb looked him up and down and Max was hit with the realization that instead of throwing his uncle off the trail, he had instead confirmed his suspicions. 

Seb shook his head and stared hard at the truck behind Max. “He doesn’t deserve you. I have half a mind to call the police anyway.” 

Max wasn’t a stranger to this conversation. He’d had it at least one-hundred times with Sophie already—although she had been the one to tell him this particular nasty truth. “Half the police work for him, Seb.” 

“Not the Sheriff.”

Max rolled his eyes and lowered his hands.“Yeah, because he’s done us so much good in the last six months.”

“Christian is trying to help you, Max, and from what I hear, you won’t let him.”

Max shook his head. “I’m not having this conversation with you tonight. I was told to get Oscar so I’m here to get him. If he’s not here…” Max swallowed hard “well then I guess I’ll be going home empty handed.”

Max stared hard at Seb, but Seb didn’t cave. 

“He’s. Not. Here. Max. When Jos has settled down, I’m sure he’ll make his way back home.”

Max laughed coldly, “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Seb worked his jaw, “He’s fifteen, Max.” He looked out to the field on the left side of his house. “It’s safer to deal with stewing, controlled anger than it is to deal with passionate, violent anger. A day or two may make Jos madder but it won’t make him lash out more than he would tonight.”

Fury ripped through Max. As if the older man knew anything about Jos’ anger. As if he had ever been at the receiving end of one of Jos’ tirades. Of one of Jos’ blows. Max scowled.

“How the fuck do you know that?” 

Seb glared at the truck. “You’re forgetting I knew your grandfather. I watched Jos grow up. I know exactly the type of man your father is. The type of man your grandfather raised.”

Max felt a pang through his chest and tears behind his eyes. His anger had curdled into a sadness so deep and central to his core that Max felt it in his bones. Seb wasn’t listening anymore. The older man had decided he knew the story playing out in front of him; and if Seb was playing the hero for Oscar, then it seemed Max was the dragon to be slayed.

His voice came out soft where a moment ago he’d been cruel, “Yeah, and you’re forgetting that I know exactly the type of man he is too and exactly what he’ll do to me for this. You’re trading a kid for a kid, Seb!”

Seb’s mouth opened in a slight ‘o’ and a look of horror crossed his face as he finally understood that Max intended to go back to Jos empty handed. 

Max realized what he’d said a minute too late. “Forget it.”

Seb reached out and grabbed Max’s hand, “Max, please go inside I can—”

The sound of a car door opening and slamming shut startled both of them apart. Max stepped away from Seb and he shrunk into the shadows on the front porch as familiar heavy boots stomped their way up the driveway and then the two steps of the front porch. 

“Where’s my kid, Vettle?” Jos’ voice sliced through the tension.

Seb nodded toward Max and said with an air of gusto that Max didn’t believe he actually had, “He’s standing right there.”

Max shrunk further into the shadows as Jos turned to glare at him. 

“The other one.”

“Oscar? He’s not here.”

Jos practically growled as he stalked closer to the front door. “Where’s my fucking kid, Vettle?” 

Seb rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, “You haven’t changed much, Jos. Still dumber than a bag of dirt.” 

This time Jos did growl in response. 

Seb stuck his chin out seemingly unphased. “I said he’s not here.” 

“OSCAR!” Jos yelled “I know you’re in there!”

Seb let the screen door slam behind him and stepped fully out onto the porch.

“He’s not here, Jos. Go home.”

“I’m not leaving without the kid. I know he’s here and I know you’re lying and if he doesn’t come down I’m gonna have to call the cops.”

Seb shook his head. “Get off my property, Verstappen. Your son isn't here.”

“OSCAR! Get your ass down here! Now!”

Seb laughed once, “How am I supposed to get this through your thick skull? He’s. Not. Here!”

Jos turned sharply to Max. “Go get him. Now.”

Max opened his mouth, then shut it. He looked at Seb, then back at his father, and then nodded. He took a step toward the front door but Seb blocked his path. 

“He’s not here and right now Max isn’t welcome in my house unless he’s planning to stay the night.”

Joe scoffed. “I would never let him sleep in your disgusting home. I wouldn’t want him to witness your… gross, immoral proclivities.” 

Seb stiffened and saw Max stiffen out of the corner of his eye, “Get the fuck off my property.”

Jos sneered. “I’ll leave as soon as you give me what’s mine.”

“He’s a person, Jos. He doesn’t belong to you. He’s just a kid and he’s much better off somewhere safe than with you right now. Plus he’s sick. He needs sleep.” 

Jos smirked, “You never were good at poker were you, Seb.”

Seb’s face must’ve shown the confusion he was feeling because Jos just smiled a smile that was teeth and said, “It’s one thing to bluff when you don’t have anything but it takes a whole other level to bluff when you do.” Jos brought up his phone and showed Seb the find my friends app. “I know you’re lying because I can track him.” 

Seb’s eyes grew wide and he stuttered only once before regaining his composure. “Lando probably just grabbed Oscar’s phone by mistake.” 

“Oh, is that the excuse we’re throwing around now? Just admit when you’ve lost, Vettel.”

“Jos, he’s just a kid.”

“He’s my kid. And if I say he has to come home then he has to come home.”

“What has he done to warrant you driving to my house at 11:00 o’clock to get him?”

“He doesn’t need to have done anything. He has a curfew and he’s late.”

“Is that true, Max?” Seb turned to the corner of the porch where Max was trying to become one with the wood. “Does Oscar have a curfew?”

Jos turned to glare into the shadows where Max was taking shallow breaths and trying to still his loudly beating heart.

Jos sneered at him and grumbled low in the back of his throat.

Max felt himself shrink against the look as his eyes found the wooden floor below them. He was trying his hardest to be invisible but Seb was making it very hard. His uncle never knew when to shut up.

Max didn’t respond to Seb’s question. It didn’t matter if they didn’t have a curfew before, Jos had just made one, so now they did. 

“Go wait in the truck.” Jos finally hissed.

Max didn’t move. He wanted to listen, but his feet were glued to the wood. His muscles were coiled so tightly he was sure he would start shaking if he let himself move even a centimeter. His eyes tracked between his dad and Seb and then once again at the door.

Jos’ voice got eerily quiet, “If I have to tell you to do something more than once, my patience is gonna be real thin by the time I get Oscar home.”  

All of Max’s muscles tensed for a single moment before he stumbled backward and almost tripped down the stairs. 

“Max!” Seb called after him, but he bolted without looking back.

The dewy grass left his shoes cold and wet as Max got to the truck, but before he got inside, he looked back up at the porch and watched as Jos put his hand on the door frame next to Seb’s head.

This wouldn’t end well.

Max quickly looked around since both men were engaged in their own fight and knew they wouldn’t notice if he briefly slipped away.

If Jos caught him, it would be a long slow death, but that was better than Seb and Jos duking it out on the porch of his uncle’s home.

Max ran from the truck over to the garage and around the back of the house.

He pulled himself onto the deck and prayed the screen door to the kitchen was unlocked. It was. He said a quick thank you to whoever was listening and then tiptoed to the back staircase that went straight into Kimmy and Seb’s room upstairs.

He could still hear the two men arguing as he slowly walked down the hallway towards Lando’s room, but he couldn’t make out the words.

 

Max knocked quietly on Lando’s door, and then let himself in the unlocked room when no one answered.

Lando and Oscar were sitting on the bed huddled around each other. Lando was stroking Oscar’s hair where it was nestled in Lando’s lap. When they heard the door open, Oscar sat up as Lando stood. Max watched as Oscar seemed to sway and lose his balance before bracing himself on the bed.

“What’s going on?” Lando crossed his arms.

“Max.” Oscar blinked a few times and squinted at the door.

“Oscar? What’s wrong?” Max strode forward and dropped to his knees by the bed. Oscar hung his head low and Max brought his hands up to Oscar’s neck. He felt clammy to the touch and when Max felt his forehead, it was warm. 

“You’re sick.” Max suddenly realized.

Oscar nodded. “I’m sorry. I should’ve just come home.”

“No. No. It’s okay, bud.” Max brought Oscar’s head over and leaned it on his shoulder so he was talking directly into his ear. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“He’s mad, Max.”

Max nodded but then realized Oscar wasn’t looking at him. “It’s- it’s gonna be okay.” 

“You don’t have to lie.”

Max stroked Oscar’s back and didn’t say anything. 

“I should’ve just come home but I knew why he was calling and then why you were calling and I just couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

“I know, bud. I know.”

“What happened tonight?” Max asked, and Oscar shuttered in his grip.

“I didn’t feel good all day. I thought it was nerves and I was just worried about the game but then the first kick came and… I’ve never felt like that before. Literally never… I couldn’t hear anything and my brain felt fuzzy and my legs hurt and… and I went to kick and it just didn’t go anywhere… it was awful… it felt like a bad dream… I thought it must be a bad dream… but then the second kick came and… I just… it was just… Logan helped me off the field and I sat down and Lance called the trainer over and apparently I had a 101° fever.”

“Fuck,” Max whispered.

“Seb thinks it’s the flu. He gave me some Tylenol so I’m feeling a bit better but I know Dad won’t care and he’s gonna—”

“Shhhh.” Max stroked Oscar’s back. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Max looked up at Lando and the quiet fury on the other boy’s face. 

“He’s not going home with you.” 

“Lando—” Max started.

“He’s sick, Max. He can’t go home with you. Please just let him stay here.” 

“You know, I can’t do that, Lando.” 

Lando huffed and paced toward the door and back again. Then a thought must have occurred to him because he turned sharply toward the bed.

“How did you even get up here Max?” 

Max didn’t answer.  Oscar slowly pulled away from him and looked dazedly between the two of them.

“Did you sneak by Seb?”

“Your dad wouldn’t let me in. I came in through the back.”

“Shit. Then no. If my dad wouldn’t let you in he’s not going home with you.” 

Oscar sighed, “Lando, I have to.”

“No, you don’t. You know what will happen. What he’ll do to you.”

Max bristled at the implication, but Oscar stood up and put his hands on Lando’s face. The two boys stared at each other for a moment before Oscar finally spoke. 

“I love you, but you don’t get to choose this for me.”

He loved him? 

Max’s eyes widened at the same time as Lando’s. Lando’s face took on a series of emotions that were hard for Max to track. There was surprise, then affection, then worry, and then finally something close to acceptance that was tinged with fear.

“Please, Oscar.”

Oscar shook his head and turned toward the door. “Let’s go, Max.” 

Max looked between the two of them and realized that he had to do something he hadn’t done before.

Max stood up. “Actually, I think we should call Christian.”

Both boys whipped around to look at him.

“Why?” Lando said at the same time Oscar said “Nothing good will come out of that.”

Lando turned to look at Oscar, “My dad trusts him.”

“About as far as he can throw him,” Oscar mumbled.

Max jumped back in. “Oscar, I know I told you we can’t trust the Sheriff, and honestly I don’t know if much has changed to warrant this, but Jos is downstairs willing to fight Seb over finding you and I think we need a witness for whatever’s about to happen.”

Oscar scowled and crossed his arms, “Do you even have his number?”

“Yeah, Danny gave it to me.”

Oscar nodded once, paused, and then quietly said, “Won’t this just make it worse? He’s already mad enough. I can hear him from here.”

Max paused to listen and sure enough the two men could be heard yelling on the porch still.

He nodded, “Yeah, it might, but it’ll also keep Sebastian far far away from the explosion and sometimes that’s all we can do.”

Lando watched the volley between them but didn’t interrupt which Max was grateful for. It had taken long enough to convince himself to call Christian. It would take another minute to convince Oscar after Max had told the younger boy that the police were never people to trust in this small town.

“What about us?”

Max grimaced. “If I call Christian, he’ll check back in. Jos won’t be able to do anything…” Max looked up at Lando and then quickly away, “…that the Sheriff would be able to see.”

Oscar sighed and stared hard at Max for a second as the younger boy’s fingers curled and uncurled into fists at his sides. 

“Fine.” he finally spit out and ran his fingers through his hair. “But if he threatens to take us away from Jos…”

Max shook his head, “He’s not gonna separate us, Ozzy.” 

Oscar looked up at the old nickname that Max usually saved for the dead of night when Oscar couldn’t sleep. 

“Promise?” Oscar’s voice was small.

Max could do this. He could protect him. 

“I promise.”

Oscar nodded and looked down at the ground.

Max looked briefly at Lando, but the other boy only had eyes for Oscar.

Max unlocked his phone and opened his contacts. Then clicked a number he never thought he would call.

—

Max snuck back downstairs and heard the men still arguing. He went out the back door, scrambled off the deck, and snuck back around the house. He tiptoed past Seb’s sedan and quietly opened the passenger door of Jos’ truck.

He counted three whole minutes before red and blue lights flashed in the distance. Max swallowed hard at the sight.

As long as he had been alive, Sophie taught Max not to trust the police.

His mother chronically suffered Jos’ anger and had taught him from an early age that certain people were not meant to be trusted; and the men in blue who came to the bar, sat at the counter, ordered drinks, and laughed with Jos were just the type of men that he was taught to cross the street to avoid.

Max watched as the Sheriff got out of his car and made quick work of jogging up to the porch. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he knew what would happen. Sebastian would be forced to give Oscar back to Jos and Jos would be forced to leave Seb’s house. Christian would threaten his father, and then Christian would poke his head around the bar tomorrow and maybe the next day to look for things that he thought he knew.

It would keep Oscar out of trouble and it would keep Seb safe and Max…

Max wasn’t really worried about himself. 

He would deal with that later. 

Max watched as Jos stepped away from Seb and Christian leaned over to talk to his uncle. Then Seb went inside and Christian turned his watchful look towards Jos. 

After a minute, Oscar came out of Seb’s house and seemed to shrink under the weight of Jos’ glare. Jos pointed to the truck and Oscar gave him a wide berth on the porch before walking down the drive like a man trudging to his execution. 

He opened the passenger rear door and hopped up into his seat.

“How bad is it?” Oscar whispered.

“Bad.” Max said while watching the three men on the porch. “What did Seb say?”

“He told me to be careful and to call him if anything happened.” Oscar said.

“We can’t do that.”

“I know.”

Max looked up in the rearview mirror and made eye contact with Oscar.

“I’m gonna keep you safe.”

Oscar looked up and met his eyes.

“I don’t think you can fix this one, Max.”

The driver side door of the truck opened abruptly.

Both boys turned as an angry Jos pulled himself up and slammed the door behind him.

He glared at Max then he turned around to glare at Oscar.

“Not one word.”

Someone knocked on the driver side window. All of them turned to look at the Sheriff. He made a motion for Jos to roll down the window.

Jos huffed. He put the key in the ignition, turned the truck engine on, and rolled down the window.

“Haven’t you done enough?” Jos spit.

Christian glared back, “Everyone knows these kids are with you. So if I come over tomorrow and they’re not there, or they can’t come down to talk to me, or there’s something amiss with either of them, the only person to blame will be you. Ya got that?”

“You made your point, Horner. Now get out of my face.”

Jos rolled the window back up and put the truck in first gear as he revved the engine and pulled away from Sebastian’s house.

—

The drive back to the bar was deadly silent. The kind of silence that wields itself like a knife and dares anyone to break it so they can cut themselves. Max stared straight ahead at the road in front of them. He didn’t dare turn to look at his dad in fear that the spell would be broken and anger would unleash itself inside the car.

Oscar sat silently in the back and stared out the window.

Neither one of them moved a muscle

When Jos parked the truck in its usual spot at the bar, he stared straight ahead with a glare etched into even the smallest muscles of his face.

“If I find out that either one of you called that sorry excuse of a cop, I will end you. Understood?”

Max shut his eyes and shuddered.

“Yes, sir,” he whispered.

“Understood,” Oscar echoed.

 

—

 

Oscar followed Max quickly up the stairs. 

The bar had been lively, but Max had beelined for the door to their apartment as soon as Kimi let them in. He took one look at Max’s face and scowled so deeply, Oscar was sure his face would set that way.

When they passed Danny, Max had whispered, “Christian knows,” before quickly opening the door and letting Oscar through it. 

Danny had nodded and kept moving through drink orders as Jos stopped to talk to him behind the bar. 

The two boys made it to the upstairs door before Jos followed them through the door from the bar.

The sound of the first door locking behind them sent a shiver up Oscar’s spine. Max opened the second door, took his shoes off, and strode silently toward the living room couch before sitting on the edge of the cushions. Oscar followed suit. They were trained by now to hurry up and wait.

The loud and angry boots stomped up the stairs behind them and the jingle of keys locked the second door. 

Oscar knew Danny and Kimi weren’t allowed upstairs, but it would still be nice to know that someone would be able to help if things got bad. 

Jos stomped through the kitchen and into his room as Oscar and Max sat in the living room and waited.

And waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

Oscar’s breathing hitched from shallow breaths to deep inhales and he blinked once or twice to get his eyes to focus. He needed to stay alert and aware of his surroundings but the medicine and the flu symptoms were making it hard to stay focused.

He stared at the coffee table in front of him and his eyes found the chip etched into the side of it where Max‘s chin had taken a sliver out of the wood two years ago. Oscar swallowed hard as boots and then legs came into view. He followed the body up until he was staring at the man in front of them. Jos crossed his arms across his chest and glared.

“You think you’re so smart? Getting Sebastian Vettel to lie for you. And getting the fucking Sheriff involved. You think you walk on water? Don’t you?”

Max was eerily still. Oscar tried not to look at him. He didn’t want to divert attention that he knew was his.

It had been about six months since both of them had sat here and listened to one of Jos’s gear up lectures and Oscar refused to make Max the target of his father’s anger. Max was good enough at making himself a punching bag that he didn’t need Oscar’s help. 

Once when Oscar had broken something in the first few months of living with them—he couldn’t even remember what— Max had knocked over the living room lamp on purpose just to make sure Jos focused all his energy on the older boy. 

Oscar could do this. He was old enough. He could handle Jos’ rage. It didn’t all have to fall on Max. He didn’t need to shoulder it alone.

Jos was still yelling. 

“Do you think that’ll protect you? From me? From the one man charged with setting you straight? From the person who pays for your life! Who puts a roof over your head! Who puts food on the table! Who gave you a fucking car!” He pointed at Max. “Who lets you play football!” His hand swung to Oscar. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Jos scoffed and rolled his shoulders back as if he was trying to calm the beast within. 

“As if your piss poor performance at the game wasn’t enough today. First, I had to deal with Wolff calling me! Then, I had to deal with Sebastian Vettel! And now the Sheriff is looking into all of THIS!” he gestured vaguely at both of them. 

Neither boy made a move, but Jos must have sensed some shared animosity amongst the fear radiating from the couch.

“NO! No one tells me how to parent the useless teenagers living under my roof who have to follow my rules! Especially the fucking prick of a Sheriff!” Jos paced. “YOU’VE caused this mess and you’re both gonna regret it!”

Jos reached down and quickly unbuckled his belt. He pulled it from the loops around his jeans and threw it down on the coffee table in one smooth motion.

Max flinched as the metal made contact with the hard wood and Oscar briefly closed his eyes and tried to calm his shaking hands.  

“You think I can’t lay a finger on you just because the Sheriff told me I couldn’t? You think he can protect you from a lesson well deserved?”

Oscar stared hard at the silver belt buckle shining in the overhead light. 

“Answer me!”

“No, sir.” Max said to the ground.

“Oscar!”

“No, sir.”

Jos pointed at him, “First, you half-ass the football game which I have to hear about from Toto Wolff! Then you run to that fag’s house to hide! Then you have Max LIE ABOUT IT! Then—the icing on the fucking cake—you have Vettle lie about it! As if I can’t track your goddamn phone! And then someone calls the fucking Sheriff! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t skin you alive!”

“Dad—”

Jos moved so quickly all Oscar could do was brace himself as a slap echoed in the living room. Oscar opened his eyes and noted Max’s white knuckled grip holding his hands against his jeans as he tried not to bring them up to cradle his already cut and swollen cheek. Oscar’s own face remained braced for a hit that never came.

Jos wasn’t done. He grabbed Max’s shirt and pulled him up before shoving him up against the wall. 

“Say something else! I dare you.” Jos’s face was inches from Max’s as he held the boy in place.

Max didn’t speak. He tilted his head so his chin was up and his throat was bared, but he didn’t say a word. 

Jos slowly loosened his grip and turned back to Oscar.

Oscar looked into cold, steel blue eyes and knew that there was no way he was getting out of this. Jos must have seen something he didn’t like in Oscar’s face because he moved forward and also pulled Oscar off the couch by his shirt.

“One. Good. Reason.”

Oscar didn’t reply. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. It had been years since Oscar hadn’t been able to speak, but when Jos got like this Oscar’s jaw clamped shut and refused to open. 

Jos usually took this as an opportunity to pry it open. 

Max stepped forward shakily and kept digging at the hole he was close to burying himself in, “Dad, please. Oscar has a fever and—“

Jos turned quickly and dropped Oscar back down on the couch.

He took a step forward and stood menacingly over Max.

“Go to your room.” Jos’ voice was deadly quiet where a minute ago it had taken up the entire room. Oscar felt the shadows around them grow darker. This was the moment where Oscar could see this going badly. If Max refused to listen there was no telling what Jos would do. 

Max opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Oscar watched Max’s jaw tick and wondered if it was also wired shut in the face of a raging lion—if Max could only speak when Jos’ back was turned.

“Max Emilian, if I see you again tonight there will be hell to pay. And it won’t be you that pays it.”

Max normally wouldn’t go willingly. Oscar knew Max didn’t want Jos’ anger to touch him, but tonight the younger boy had been the one to fuck up and then run instead of deal with the consequences. 

Tonight it was Oscar’s turn.

Max looked over at him for just a second—just a quick glance of the eyes—but it was enough for Oscar to nod jerkily. It was barely noticeable but Max was watching for it. It was permission, but it was also his saving grace.

Jos pushed Max’s shoulders and the seventeen-year old stumbled back into the wall. 

“Now.”

Max slowly backed out of the room without turning around as if to keep eye contact with Jos the entire time. Then he was gone. Safe and far away from the impending explosion.

When the door to Max’s room clicked shut, Jos turned the full force of his ire back toward Oscar. 

The disdain on his face was palpable as he once again pulled Oscar up. The fifteen-year-old felt his chest tighten as his ribs tried to keep his swiftly beating heart encased. He went to swallow but his throat constricted as if a hand was clenched around the thin flesh and not wrapped in the cotton of his shirt. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine as he waited for Jos to speak. The silence was as agonizing as the dark, swirling, uncontained cloud of Jos’ anger. 

Swift as lightning, Jos threw Oscar to the ground. His palms stung as they slammed into the hardwood and he swallowed back a wave of nausea that threatened to overtake him. 

The Tylenol Seb had given him earlier had dimmed the feelings of illness, but hadn’t fully taken them away. 

Jos’s voice was sharp but it was a controlled fury.

“Toto said you looked like a child on the field. As if you’d never even seen a football before. How did you manage to fumble three separate kicks?” Pain erupted through his body as a boot met the soft muscles of Oscar’s stomach to enunciate the last three words. A groan squeaked out from pursed lips and he tried to pull his legs up to protect his stomach but Jos blocked his movement and leaned down over him.

“And then they put the fucking French kid out to kick for you. Do you think that makes me happy?” Another kick followed the first set. Oscar’s muscles screamed at him as bile burned up his throat. 

He tried again to scramble back away from the towering figure above him but his back met the legs of the couch. He had nowhere to run.

He’s not French! Oscar wanted to scream, but it came out as a high-pitched whimper instead.

“Then they tell me you’re sick!” Hands wrapped themselves in Oscar’s shirt and pulled him up from the floor. He hung limply in the grasp that held his fate. “You don’t look sick.”

A rough hand snapped his jaw up until his eyes met the sharp unforgiving ocean. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips.  

“What good is a kicker that can’t kick?”

Oscar didn’t bother to respond. He knew Jos was just winding up. 

It’s almost over. He told himself. 

“What good is a football player that can’t even fucking play?”

The hands were suddenly gone and Oscar cascaded back to the wooden floor. He landed on his side and groaned as a dull pain rolled down his ribcage and settled in his sixth rib.

It’s almost over. It’s almost over. 

There was a pattern to this that Oscar knew well. Jos worked himself up, yelled, wielded his anger with sharp hands, tired himself out, and then left. It was predictable. 

It’s almost over. It has to be.

“Useless.”

Jos grabbed Oscar by the hair and pulled him forward. He tried to grab Jos’ wrists and attempt to pull him off but Jos smacked his hands before dropping him back to the floor. Oscar grunted and gasped as the wind was knocked from his lungs.

“Pathetic.” 

It’s almost over.

Oscar’s shirt was yanked away from him and he was met with cold. The floor below him was cold. The air around him was cold. And when he managed to look up, the sharp eyes that found him were frostbitten.

“Worthless”

It’s almost over.

“I-I’m sorry.” His jaw had unlocked. Pried itself open in the hopes of placating his captor. But it wouldn't do any good. 

Jos never liked apologies. 

“You’re an embarrassment to your last name.”

It’s almost over.

“You’re an embarrassment to your parents.”

Oscar felt tears welling in his eyes. He tried to pull his limbs inward again as if to protect his body from Jos’ barbed words, but the elder Verstappen prevented the movement. 

“You’re an embarrassment to me.”

It’s almost over.

Oscar heard the scrape of metal against hard wood and involuntarily shut his eyes against the onslaught of memories yanked from the recesses of his brain. No. No. No. NO!

The first few years of living here. 

The welts and the bruising and the pain.

The first time he saw Max’s scars.

“I’m sorry! Please. It won’t happen again!” He tried to scramble forward but a boot slammed down on top of him and pinned him to the ground. 

“I’m sorry! Dad! Jos! Please!” He was trapped.

Jos’ voice was calm as the distinct sound of metal and leather pierced Oscar’s eardrums. 

“No you’re not. Not yet. But you will be.”

The whistle of the leather belt through the air was the only warning Oscar got before a sharp sting carved its way through the soft unbroken skin of his back.

The agonizing sound that left his lips startled even himself.

 

It was not almost over.

It had just begun.

 

“One.”

 

…

Notes:

This is (kind of) a part one
but if you noticed on the last chapter (15) the title wasn't finished so the next chapter may or may not be a continuation of that instead of a resolution to this.

Heed this as your warning :)

Love you,
G.

also this was my longest so far at a whopping 11,500 words which is so beyond cool and also incredibly insane to think about.

Notes:

Thanks for making it this far! Kudos and comments are appreciated!!!