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Harrison daydreamed more frequently than the average kid does. It was easy to get lost in his own wonders and thoughts, especially since he’s also an easily entertained kid. Sometimes, during conversations, he’d blank out. He’s been called disrespectful before, but his attention span isn’t exactly something he can control. It wasn’t his fault if something was boring and that his imagination was far funner than whatever was going on.
That was the case for most times. Especially during camp activities. Though he’d never admit that to David, because he knows he’d hurt his feelings.
But camp was over (for now). Summer had been over for a pretty long time. Long enough that winter was getting close by. He was actually pretty glad when it started to snow. What kid didn’t like snow? Well, Max, apparently, but Harrison did! He even got Max to build a snowman with him and he likes to think Max had as much (maybe a bit less) fun as he did.
But sometimes snow did suck. Especially when they got snowed out of their own house.
Harrison had tried to use his magic to melt the ice, but the thing about Harrison’s powers was that it never did anything he wanted it to. So, with a sour frown, he was forced to sit down on a log with Max, as David set up a camp. And there they were now, sitting around a fire.
Harrison wasn’t someone who got cold easily, so when he saw David shivering in the snow, he was quick on his feet to wrap his own coat around his dad adoptive counselor. Although the redhead had protested against it, telling his kid to wear his own coat, Harrison continued to insist, refusing to put on the coat. (Max had commented on how Harrison was a self-sacrificial idiot, to which Harrison teased him about how he did care.)
It was already midnight. David was asleep, after telling them an uncountable amount of dumb campfire stories - stories that he daydreamed over instead of listening to them. It was nearly pitch black outside, the only source of light was the campfire, which had decreased in size over time. He knows he should probably go to bed before it’s fully extinguished, but he’s not tired.
And, maybe , he was a little cold.
He yawns, rubbing his gloved hands over each other to create some sort of heat. And that’s when he remembers Max is also there. The younger boy was squinting at his hands, his own hands were inside the pockets of his coat. Harrison tilts his head in confusion when Max continues to stare at his hands after a minute.
“Uh, Max-...?” “Oh, sorry,” Max says, finally snapping out of his daze. Harrison raises a curious brow, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe Max was just spacing out like he always did. The shorter boy shifts on where he sits, and brings a hand out to point at Harrison’s hands. “I was just wondering why you always wear gloves.”
Realizing how stupid the question could be interpreted, Max fixes himself. “I mean, not during winter. You, like, wear gloves whenever and everywhere. I was just wondering why.”
Max tries to play it nonchalantly, but Harrison knows the boy was as curious as ever. The illusionist smiles at his hands then looks back up at Max. “Why do you wanna know so badly? It’s not like my hands are tentacles or something,” Harrison jokes, a cloud of his breath forming in front of him as he laughs.
Max rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I know that. Well, actually, you might never know. But I’m just curious.”
Harrison goes to shove Max lightly on the shoulder when he jokes about the possibility of him having tentacle-hands (which left a disgusting image in his head), but he laughs nonetheless. He reaches for the end of his glove, then pulls it off.
God, that felt like he had just stripped or something. It was weird not feeling a warmth envelop his hand at all times, but he’ll live. He takes the other glove off his left hand, then he jazz hands, revealing his unexpectedly scarred hands, and laughs. “Abra-Kadabra! What a reveal, huh?” Harrison says jokingly, earning a snort and a small ‘dork’ from Max.
“Where are those, uh, marks from?” Max asks carefully, unsure whether or not it’s a sensitive subject for Harrison. The older boy looks over at his hand and hums, a small gesture that clarifies that it isn’t a triggering subject for him, and looks back at Max.
“Different things. Parents and… stuff,” he whispers quietly, turning his hand around to observe his own scars. Max scoots closer towards Harrison, keeping his distance as he himself takes a look at his hands.
“They make you look badass, by the way,” Max adds, as a way to lighten things up. Harrison smiles at Max ; though he’s grateful for the sympathetic look, Harrison doesn’t really need it. He’d always been one to embrace his scars. it shows him how far he’s gone , was what David told him.
“I know, right?” Harrison laughs. “My parents were assholes. They’d always drop their plates whenever they see me. I mean, I get being scared of me, but the least they could’ve done was pick them back up,” he rants on, glaring at the memory. “I had to clean all those shards up by myself.”
Max has an apologetic frown on his face, however, he knows that Harrison and he both dislike being told that someone was sorry for their trauma. As brothers, they share only one way of coping with problems ; which was humor. Max scoffs out a laugh, “Parents are fuckin’ useless. My dad complained about having financial issues, even though half of that was caused by him. Imagine!”
Harrison laughs, but he makes sure to be quiet so as to not wake David up. Unlike him and Max, David doesn’t necessarily approve of their way of coping with humor. He, like any worried and panicked parent, would always suggest therapy, that Harrison and Max would always decline.
“You see this one?” Harrison begins, pointing at one particular scar near his index finger. “I accidentally set my hand on fire and it obviously burnt my hand. I told them to call an ambulance, but instead, they threw cold water on me, and the burn. That's why this is here.”
“At least it looks cool, right?” Max says, a grin on his face. Harrison nods, smiling right back at Max.
They spent the next few hours discussing the scars and where they came from. Some, Harrison remembered vividly. Some others, Harrison doesn’t remember at all. But it was an easy way to pass time, and, for once, Harrison wasn’t off in his own mind. Though after a while, he notices Max was starting to get tired, and, frankly, so was he.
Harrison flinches a bit when Max leans on his shoulder, obviously about to fall asleep, but relaxes once he knows they’re both safe like this. Then, quietly, he adds, “Hey, Max. You wondered why I always wear gloves?”
Max’s eyes are closed, but he has a small smile on his face. “Yeah?”
“It’s cause’ sometimes my powers get out of hand .”
Max can hear the shit-eating grin on Harrison’s face after he says the pun, so he can’t help but smile too. “Shut the fuck up,” he says softly, not actually meaning those words. Harrison lets out a laugh, and snuggles in closer with Max. Then, after a few minutes of silence, right before the illusionist falls asleep, he hears a small “you're a great brother, Harrison.” from Max.
Then, as silently as he could, he whispers ; “you too.”