Chapter Text
six months after moving in
The office at school smelled of disinfectant and old carpet. Max sat in the plastic chair with his hood up, sleeves pulled over his fists, staring at the scuffed linoleum as if it might open up and swallow him. He desperately wished it could do exactly that — the sooner the better.
He didn’t move when Susie came in. At least he wasn't crying this time.
His stepmother's voice kept ringing in his ears. “Look at you. Crying in front of everyone. Embarrassing.”
The headteacher’s voice was brisk: “A shove in the corridor. No injuries and we don't know what led up to it because Max won’t talk, but we don’t tolerate violence.”
Max heard it like a verdict. He shrank smaller in his chair, braced for what came next.
“I can’t believe I had to get off work early to pick you up from school. What am I supposed to tell my bosses, huh?”
He didn't really take in his surroundings. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart and the ringing in his ears. Occasionally, he processed what the people around him were saying. When Susie asked him to apologise to the headteacher, she had to ask him twice.
Once he realised what she asked him to do, he did it immediately. Blabbering out some stupid apology and promised it would never happen again.
“Stand up straight. Stop snivelling, you're disgusting.”
“Say it again. Louder this time.”
Susie tried talking to him on their way to the car but he couldn’t answer. It felt like his mouth was sewn shut.
When he'd been little, his grandad had threatened to do that to him, sew his mouth shut. He didn’t know why he remembered that now. He hadn’t thought about that grandad — Jos’s father — in a couple of weeks.
When they were at the car, Susie didn’t raise her voice. She just put her bag in the backseat, took a steadying breath, and said, “Get in, please,” before getting in herself.
Again, there was his stepmother's voice in his ear. “Get in the car, now, Max, don't fucking push it.”
Max obeyed instantly, stiff, perching on the edge of the seat, body coiled like he was ready to jump out any second. His eyes never lifted.
He sat pressed against the passenger door, like distance could shield him. His leg bounced uncontrollably. Every time Susie’s hand shifted on the gearstick, he flinched.
Once Susie was on the main road, she said, “Max. We need to talk about what happened today. Pushing someone is not acceptable. Not at school, not at home. You understand me?”
He nodded fast. Too fast. His throat worked.
“Max, I need to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” he rasped. At least his mouth was working again.
Her tone was calm but serious. “Good. Because that matters in this family. We don’t hurt anyone. We find other ways.”
His breath quickened. His eyes flicked to her hands on the steering wheel, then back down. “Where are we going?” He asked.
Susie looked at him, confused. He knew the way to their house. He'd been with them for months now. “Home, Max. Where else do you think we would go?”
“You just wait until your dad hears about this. He'll deal with you once he's home.”
He knew what “your dad will deal with you” meant. Knew it down to the bone.
By the time the footsteps came down the hall hours later, his whole body was already braced, every muscle taut. It didn’t help. It never did. Not when his dad meant to hurt him.
“Is Toto home?” He asked carefully, eyes wide with panic.
Susie shot him a quick look when she could turn her eyes off of the road. Then, her shoulders sagged, knowingly. “Yes, love, he's working from home today.”
“What is he going to do?” Max asked, voice rasping.
“Max—”
“Please, Susie, you can’t tell him—I’m so sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise, I swear,” he blurted, words tumbling now. “Please, I’ll do anything, I'll be good—I’ll be better— just—don’t—” His chest was heaving.
“Too late,” his stepmother mocked him, “Sorry doesn't help you now. Should’ve thought of that before, huh?”
“You'll be sorry once Jos is done with you, that's for sure.”
Susie’s heart twisted. She stopped at a red light, and turned her head to look at him. “Max. Look at me.”
He couldn’t. His head shook violently, hoodie nearly slipping off.
“I didn’t—” His voice cracked. “I didn’t mean to do it, I swear, I won’t do it again, I promise, please— I'll be better— just don't tell him—”
“Don’t look at me like this. You did this.”
“Max.” Her voice was even gentler now. “No one is going to hurt you. Not now, not ever.”
His hands twisted in his sleeves, pulling the fabric so tight his knuckles whitened. He shook his head violently.
“He’ll hate me if you tell him. He’ll—” He bit down hard on the rest.
She forced herself to stay calm. “Max, listen to me. Toto will not hate you. And he will not hurt you.”
Max let out a sound that was closer to a whimper than anything else. Susie had never heard anyone make a sound like that.
Max's whole body was angled towards the door, now, as if he was ready to bolt. “You don’t understand,” he pleaded, voice breaking, “If you tell him, he'll have to. He'll have to hurt me.”
“Why can't you just listen for once, Max? Why do you only listen when it hurts?”
Susie reached out, but stopped just short of touching him. “Max. We don’t keep secrets in this house. But we also don't hurt anyone. That still stands.”
They were close to their house now.
His eyes brimmed, panic bright and raw. “Just— please, Susie.”
Her heart nearly broke clean in two. She shook her head gently. “Max. He is your dad. He needs to know what is going on.”
He is your dad. Most of the time, this sentence soothed something in Max. Most of the time, it meant that Max belonged. In situations like today, this sentence just meant something dangerous.
“I’m not handling this. Your dad will. And you won’t like it — I promise. But that’s on you. Entirely on you.”
As Susie parked the car, Max pulled up his legs close to his chest and buried his face in his knees, shoulders shaking—not crying, not quite. Just holding himself together with sheer force.
“Please,” he whispered again, muffled.
She closed her eyes, fighting tears of her own. Then she said, steady but soft, “He loves you, Max. I love you.”
But Max didn’t answer anymore.
Susie stayed sitting in the driver’s seat for a little while. She talked herself hoarse, trying to get through to him, trying to get him to leave the car.
She watched Max’s knees drawn up tight against his chest. His hood shadowed most of his face, but she could see how pale he’d gone. How sharp every breath sounded. It hurt Susie to just listen to it.
She took a deep breath, thinking. “Listen, Max, I’m going to ask him to come out,” she said after a while, her voice low and even.
The words had barely left her mouth before Max stiffened, his head snapping up. His eyes flicked to meet hers, wild, terrified.
“No,” he whispered, desperate, “Please, no—don’t get him, don’t—” His hands dug into his hoodie sleeves until the seams strained. “Please, he’ll be angry, he’ll—he’ll—” He couldn’t finish. His chest was visibly heaving again, breaths short and uneven, frantic.
“Max.” Susie leaned forward, keeping her tone firm but gentle, trying again. “You'll be okay.”
Max shook his head, rapid, panicked.
She placed a hand—not on him, but flat on the console between them. An anchor. “Stay here. Please trust me for just this moment.”
Max’s throat clicked as he swallowed. His eyes stayed wide and terrified, but he didn’t move when she got out.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when heavy footsteps sounded on the driveway.
He curled tighter into himself, every muscle taut, preparing for the worst.
The car door opened, and Toto filled the frame. Tall. Broad. Presence alone enough to make Max’s stomach turn.
His eyes darted to Toto’s hands, then the door, then back again—calculating. His breath stuttered into something closer to a wheeze.
Toto froze, reading the fear instantly. He lifted his hands slowly, palms open, voice quiet. “Max.” Just his name. Gentle, like it was something fragile.
Max didn’t answer. His knuckles were white, clutching at his knees.
Toto stayed exactly where he was, not moving closer. “You’re not in trouble with me,” he said carefully, “I just want you safe inside the house, okay? We need to calm down. That’s all.”
Susie shot Max a small nod. “See? He’s calm. He’s here to listen.”
But Max was shaking his head again, hood sliding. He knew where this was going now. They didn't even try to correct him.
His voice cracked as he rasped, “You’ll send me back, then.” His eyes widened when he realised what that would mean, “No, no— Please don’t send me back—”
“Oh, Max,” Susie’s voice edged on desperation now, “No one is sending you anywhere. We’re not even shouting. I just want to talk.”
“Can't you just do it?” He begged, sobbing, “Please—just hurt me then, but please don’t send me back.”
“No,” Toto said firmly. No hesitation. “We don’t do that.”
Max’s chest hitched. “You don’t know what I did.”
“I do,” Toto said, voice steady, almost unyielding in its calm. “I know you shoved someone. I know you lost your temper. That doesn’t mean you lose your family.”
Max’s breathing was still ragged, but he risked a glance up. Toto’s face was steady, no anger, just quiet concern.
“You think I’ll hate you?” Toto asked softly.
Max’s silence was answer enough.
Toto’s throat worked, but his voice stayed calm. “Max, I told you, I grew up in a house full of shouting and beatings. And I won't bring that into this house. Not for you. Not for anyone.”
The words landed heavy. Toto had said that a couple of times by now but it still didn’t fit anywhere in Max's understanding of fathers.
His eyes darted to Susie, searching, desperate for confirmation. She nodded, discretely trying to wipe her own tears away. “He means it, Max.”
Max’s shoulders slumped suddenly, like the string holding him taut had finally given out. His head dropped into his knees.
“Sorry,” he mumbled again, but this time it wasn’t frantic. It was exhausted. Raw.
For a long moment, all that filled the air was Max’s uneven breathing. Then—finally, finally—his head tipped sideways, just slightly, resting against his sleeve instead of buried. A tiny shift, but enough to show he wasn’t about to bolt anymore.
Susie exhaled quietly. She reached out, this time letting her hand rest lightly against Max’s arm, the barest touch. He flinched at first, then stayed.
They stayed like that for a while. All of them needed to catch their breath. When Max first moved in, he'd had panic attacks like that every now and then but never this long and never this intense.
“Do you think we could go inside now?” Toto asked at one point.
Max looked at him, wearily.
Shove.
“How does that feel, boy?” His dad asked tauntingly.
Another shove, harder. Against the wall this time.
“Feel good?” He knew better than to answer.
Another shove. He almost tripped over something on the floor. He didn’t get his legs under himself in time. The next shove threw him to the floor. Pain shot through his shoulder first, then his hip and then his head.
He could barely get onto his side and protect his stomach before the first kick came.
“You won't start beating me up once we're inside, will you?” Max’s voice was hoarse and his throat hurt from hyperventilating.
Toto swallowed, hurt but understanding. “No, Max, never. I promise.”
Max nodded once. Okay. He could do this.
Stiffly, he unfolded his legs.
Then he froze again.
“Sorry,” he mumbled as his hands began to rub at the seat.
“You're okay, love,” Susie said kindly, not entirely sure what he was focusing on now.
“No, I had my shoes up on the seat,” Max muttered, panic rising again.
Susie couldn't take it any longer to see him so out of it. She gently took his hands and didn't let go when he flinched a little. “Max, you're alright, love, truly,” she insisted and guided him out of the car, “Let's get you inside, now, please.”
Max just followed.
Inside, he tried to take off his shoes, all off balance and shaky hands.
“What's the consequence?” He asked quietly.
Susie helped steady him when he flinched away from Toto's offered hands. “Oh, Max, we don't have to talk about that now.”
“No, tell me now, please,” Max pleaded, “I need to know.”
She wanted to argue but instead, she said simply, “You’ll write an apology to the boy tomorrow. And you'll have an emergency therapy session but I don't know when yet.”
Max’s head snapped up, startled. His eyes were wide, disbelieving. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Susie confirmed. “Only consequences, no punishments, remember?”
No punishments. It landed hard, like she’d read his thoughts. He swallowed. Nodded, jerky. Then muttered, “Sorry,” again, softer this time, and then he crumbled then and there.
—x—
Susie stayed with Max until she knew he was calm. It took almost another hour.
She was with him when he curled up in his favourite corner of the sofa. She put a blanket over him when she saw him shivering even though she knew it wasn't because he was cold but because he was utterly exhausted. She was with him when he fell asleep in that exact position.
Max was still asleep on the sofa by the time George and Kimi came home.
Susie couldn't help but smile when she heard them bickering outside. The house needed someone to bring in a breath of fresh air.
She gently closed the door to the living and hugged them both hello when they came in.
“Anyone hungry?” She asked. Food was always a hit with teenage boys after a long day of school.
George shifted on his feet, then asked, “How is Max?” There was concern in his voice.
Susie blinked at him, a little caught off guard.
“He's asleep now,” she answered, studying George, “The morning took a lot out of him.”
Kimi looked at them, confused. “What happened?”
“Yeah, he was terrified, when Mr Steiner told him to pack up his stuff because he'd get sent home,” George reported, eyes wide, “Charles and I wanted to stay with him but we weren't allowed. — You weren't mean to him, were you?”
As calm and collected Susie normally was, the question hit harder than she expected. She took a steadying breath. “Kimi, would you please go help your dad prepare tea? He'll tell you what happened.” Once her smallest son was out of the room, she took another breath. “No, George, we weren't mean to him but you boys can't go around shoving other people!”
George stared at her for a long time. “I know that, Mum,” he said briskly, “And Max knows it, too! You didn’t ask why, did you? Why he pushed him?”
Susie frowned. “George, he doesn't just get to push people…”
But George shook his head. “They’ve been at him for weeks, Mum,” he insisted, “Calling him names because he was new and in foster care. They shoved him first. I told him to tell you but he didn’t want you to know.” George shrugged, frustrated. “He thought you wouldn’t care about it and that you would just think that he is weak.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He shouldn’t have shoved him, I know that, Mum, but they are pretty mean to him."
Susie’s chest tightened.
“George, love,” she said softly, “Why didn't you tell us sooner?”
“Because he asked me not to and we're fighting so much, I didn’t want him or you to think I did it out of spite,” he swallowed, “And he really, really didn't want you to know.”
“Okay, George, I know Max is still unsure about some things but you know we wouldn't have punished him for that. We would've handled it.”
“Mum,” George said earnestly, “I'm sorry but I don't think you know how it is to be so ashamed and you really, really don't want anyone to find out.”
Susie swallowed. There was weight to that sentence that Susie knew she would maybe never understand. George and Max’s pasts were different, but they both knew what it was like to be stripped of any worth, of any dignity.
Susie sighed.
“Okay,” she nodded, “But you told us today.”
George shrugged. “Yeah, because he got in trouble for it and he really doesn't deserve that.”
Susie couldn't help herself but draw George into a giant hug.
“No need to go all Mama bear on me,” George complained but Susie knew that he loved it anyway.
She decided to top it off. “I'm proud of you, Georgie bear.”
George shrieked.
—x—
Toto and Susie waited until Max was awake again.
Once they heard a shaky sigh and the creaking of their sofa, indicating that someone was moving around, Susie opened the door to the living room a crack.
Tired eyes looked up at her, face puffy and swollen from all the tears and hyperventilating.
“How are you feeling, love?” She asked.
“Fine,” he lied automatically.
She smiled at that. “A bit better at least?” She asked.
There was a ghost of a tired smile around Max’s lips. “Yeah, a bit,” he mumbled.
“We had tea and some sandwiches when with Kimi and George when they got home from school,” Susie explained, “We saved you some. It's nearly time for dinner but I thought you’d be pretty hungry. You haven't eaten since breakfast, have you?”
Max shook his head. “But it's okay, I'm not hungry,” he lied.
“Max, you know, it doesn’t really matter if you’re hungry or not. You have to eat at least three times a day.”
Max frowned. That was what Susie always told George. Because George was too thin and George had trouble eating sometimes. She’d never said that to Max before.
“Fancy some cucumber sannies?” Toto asked, a cheeky grin on his face.
Max froze. He hated cucumber sandwiches. Was he only allowed food he hated now? Was that a consequence?
Toto noticed immediately. Of course, he did. “Sorry, bad joke,” he apologised, just as Susie nudged him with her elbow, “Egg sannies for you, of course.”
“And some iced tea?” Susie added.
Max looked at them, careful. “If that's okay,” he said softly.
Instead of a reply, his foster parents fully entered the living room and handed him the plate with sandwiches and the glass of iced tea.
Toto leaned against the arm chair across from Max, tall as ever, but his voice was low. “George told us what really happened at school, Max.”
Max’s head jerked up, panic wide in his eyes.
“You don’t need to be scared,” Toto added. “We know you were being bullied.”
Max blinked fast, throat working. He nearly choked on nothing. His first instinct was denial. “No, I wasn’t, I—”
“It doesn’t change that shoving isn’t okay,” Susie interrupted gently, “But it does change that we understand why it happened. And it means we should have asked sooner.”
Max’s hands gripped his hoodie tighter. “I thought… if I told you… you’d just be angry I was weak.”
“Never,” Toto said, his voice quiet but firm, “We’d be angry at the boys who bully you. Not you.”
Max looked at him, confused. “But…”
“Nothing ‘but’, Max,” Susie's voice was final, “You don't have to be strong and collected all of the time. You can show any emotion here, and you can honestly tell us anything.”
“But my dad—” Max began and glanced up at them, shyly. “He always wanted me to be strong. Like a real man.”
“And how did that work out for him?” Toto challenged gently.
Max stared at him, chewing on his bottom lip.
“So, you'll never get any consequences if you talk about how you feel or what is happening in your life here,” Toto continued, “And we'd never think badly of you for it — on the contrary, okay?” He tried to coax an answer or at least some kind of acknowledgement out of Max.
Max blinked. Then he cleared his throat. And swallowed. “I'll try,” he croaked out, “I promise, I’ll try.” There was something else on the tip of his tongue, his foster parents could tell, but he couldn't quite bring himself to say it. So, they waited. Until— “I don't want to be like him.”
Susie smiled sadly. “Oh Max,” she sighed and scooted closer to cup his cheek, “You're not like him,” she said in the most gentle, earnest voice possible, “You're really, really not.”
“Not at all,” Toto added, proudly.
Susie ran her knuckle over his cheek once before she pulled her hand back. Carefully, she straightened. “Let's leave it at that for today, okay?” She said, “I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything. Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”
Max’s chin ducked further down. “Are you sure you want me there?”
These words never failed to make her chest ache. She couldn't believe she still had to answer that question. For what felt like the thousandth time.
She crouched, putting her hand on his arm again. “Yes, Max, always.”
He chewed on his bottom lip, not answering.
Then he nodded.
“And eat your sandwiches now, please,” Susie pleaded, “Even if we'll have dinner soon, you need to eat.”
He nodded again. Stiffly, eyes darting between them, like he was still waiting for the trap. But no one yelled. No one told him off. Susie and Totol just left.
The kitchen began to hum with soft clatter, and it was the closest thing to peace he’d felt all day.
—x—
A little while later, Max looked up to see George standing awkwardly in the living room door.
“Hey,” George gave him an awkward nod in greeting.
“You told Susie and Toto,” Max said, tone blunt. He himself didn't know yet whether he wanted to sound accusatory or not.
“Yeah, well,” George shrugged, “Someone had to.”
“No one had to,” Max retorted.
“You're welcome,” George snarled, and threw a bag of crisps in Max's direction.
Max looked at it, confused. “Thank you,” he answered then, slowly, “For the crisps. Not the other things.”
George gave him the finger. “You're such a prick.”
“Fucking idiot,” Max muttered.
“You thought you'd get in trouble for getting bullied with Susie and Toto,” George rolled his eyes, “Clearly, you're the idiot, not me.”
“Yeah, because you never thought something like that would happen here,” Max shot back.
George gave him the finger again. “Anyway,” he said casually, opening his own bag of crisps, “Do you want to play something?”
Max frowned. He looked at his lap and shook his head.
“What?” George grinned, a tad confused, “You always want to play video games!”
“I don't know if I'm allowed,” Max grumbled, his eyebrows drawn close.
“Crickey,” George exclaimed, rolling his eyes exasperatedly, “What do you mean you don't know if you're allowed?”
And just like that, George got Max’s blood to boil again. “I just don't know, okay?”
“Did anyone tell you you're not allowed?” George asked.
Max shook his head.
“Then why wouldn't you be?” Exasperatedly, George threw a controller into Max's lap. “Jesus, you're so dense sometimes!”
Max stared at it, clearly unsure whether he should dare to touch it.
George looked at him in disbelief. “Bloody hell!” He exclaimed and got up.
He opened the living room door adjacent to the kitchen where their parents still were. “Is Max allowed to play games?” George asked quickly, eyes on Max instead of his parents when he asked the question.
“Sure,” both Susie and Toto answered, “Why wouldn't he be?” George wiggled his eyebrows at his brother.
“Just checking,” George answered back and closed the door. “‘Why wouldn't he be?’” He repeated teasingly. “Jesus, you're so dramatic sometimes. Just ask when you're not sure, bloody hell.”
Max boxed him against his shoulder once George sat down next to him — lightly so.
George snickered.
“Thank you,” Max said, a grin on his face.
George grinned back. “Oh,” he then said, “You should probably text back in the group chat. The others were pretty worried. Clearly, they aren't used to you having a panic attack like three times a day.”
“Fuck off, I do not have panic attacks three times a day,” Max just said as he chose a character for the game.
“Not anymore,” George grinned.
This time, Max flipped him off. He's probably had three today, if he was honest, but he wouldn't just offer that information to George.
George snickered. “Just text them,” he demanded, “Especially Charles. He needs to hear from you that you're okay. Apparently my word does not suffice.”
Max's eyes shot up, teasingly. His lips twitched. “‘Suffice’.”
George just shot him a look.
Max swallowed. Back to the topic. “Okay, yeah. I'll text them.”
There was a beat of silence. Then, Max swallowed again. “To be honest, I don't remember much, I was… pretty out of it.”
George froze at the honesty of it. His triggers were different from Max’s but he knew the feeling. “Yeah,” he said softly and confirmed some settings so that the game could start, “I know how it is.”
“My condolences,” Max muttered, “Sucks to be you.”
“Yeah,” George chuckled, “Sucks to be you, too.”