Chapter Text
To anyone who’s met him, Max was an asshole. A snarky, cheeky bastard, who never fails to snide a taunting remark in every conversation. He’s a jaded, careless kid, and a bit selfish, but some people don’t mind it. Because those people are usually the ones who can look past the blaring negatives and see the good in him.
Max was a jerk, but he’s always had a reason to be a cynical prick.
Parents were shitty. Max wasn’t open about his family relations, but it’s obvious he doesn’t get along too well with them. Furthermore factually approved after the events of the parent's day. But nobody actually knew the shit that happened in Max’s household.
Not that it was any of their business, he supposed. They had lots of other weird shit to think about. And Max would listen to their rambling, while drinking his usual cup of coffee.
It’s weird. Coffee doesn’t wake him up like other people say it does. He just likes coffee.
And coffee was always his go-to drink whenever he started thinking about sappy, sad shit. Coffee was always what he drank whenever he thought about his family.
Max’s parents hated each other. They’d argue day and night, annoying him in the mornings and keeping him awake at night. They argued about every small thing. The food, the couch, the floor . Max wonders why they didn’t just get a divorce already, because it was clearly not working out.
But they weren’t always like that. At some point in their life, the family used to be a loving one. They used to be a normal, functional family.
In the mornings, his dad would wake up and brew coffee, and the smell of it would lull Max awake. He’d go downstairs to greet his parents, then lay down on the couch to wait for breakfast. They had a dog too. Max can’t remember her name though.
His mother would kiss him on the forehead and greet him good morning. She’d pass over his breakfast and talk about stories that would peek Max’s interests. His dad would sit beside him, handing over a small cup of coffee.
Max had always liked coffee.
But it changed. It changed when his father started stressing about finances, working more jobs than he could have possibly done. It changed when his mother started seeing other men, because his father would barely have time at home with how much he worked. It changed when Max caught his mother in the act, kissing another man, and harmlessly telling his father about it in confusion.
It changed.
Max wonders, maybe if he’d never told his dad, everything would’ve been fine.
In the mornings, his dad would wake up to brew coffee, and the smell of it always lulled Max awake. He’d go downstairs to see his parents fighting, yelling at each other, tossing blame around the room for every small inconvenience. His dog had passed, so he no longer had any form of comfort at home.
His mother would start throwing shit onto the ground, breaking it. His dad would scream at her to stop, yelling about how expensive things are during these hard times. He’d exit the house after slamming the door loudly, leaving his wife crying and yelling, and Max with his unattended coffee. And Max would drink out of it.
He’d always liked coffee.
It was the one thing that never changed.
With all the shit that went down in the house, it was no surprise Max became part of a background to them. They didn’t give him any attention, any worry, any form of care. They were too busy fighting each other, doing stuff Max heavily disagreed about. They stopped caring. He stopped being a matter to them.
When they first threw him into a summer camp, Max was scared. He was scared, so he didn’t talk to anyone unless he wanted to. He was scared things were gonna happen there too. Crowned with the title of “the tired camper who doesn’t want to be here” , he kept true to that name. He had always been nonchalant with the camp.
That was until he met Nikki and Neil.
They were good friends, good people. They were who made Max realize how great camp was ; not as a camp, but as a comfort zone. A place where he and his friends get to hold hands and laugh at everything. A place where he could make fun of everything and joke about shit. A place where he could wake up to the smell of coffee, but not the sounds of fighting.
A place where he could forget his parents.
Was it a healthy way to cope? Being an asshole? No, maybe not. Being a jerk, simply because you’ve been mistreated was never healthy, but it was understandable. And he’s a kid. He’s a kid whose guardians failed to guard. And everyone at camp knew.
Max and Neil shared a tent. With the way Max was, Neil was honestly concerned about his well-being. It eases him to know that Max doesn’t harm himself and can still sleep soundly at night. It eases him to see Max’s hands are clean.
Nikki and Max were close friends. Nikki wasn’t too good with showing wariness, but it’s clear she does care for Max. It helps her sleep at night to know the few jokes she made, the stupid shit she did, had made Max laugh. Her dad used to tell her that even a small joke could cheer someone up.
David was Max’s counselor. Of all people at camp, David was the one who knew Max best. He and Max were close. Max looked up to him, despite the way he acts with the counselor. Anyone at camp could easily tell they had some sort of father-son bond. And David knew that Max was a great kid, just one with problems that stunt that greatness from showing.
David also knew the kid liked coffee.
Max was the one who asked David to give him a brewing machine. Max asked for the machine to be in his tent. And Neil would always wake up to the sounds of Max brewing coffee.
He really liked coffee.
And, at night, he’d stay awake past curfew, talking to Neil. Neil who’d eventually fall asleep before he did. And he’d look up at the tent, the thought of everything going on in his life flashed through his mind.
And he’d drink his coffee.
Coffee is where he finds his comfort.