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"In: two, three, four. Good! Hold. Two, three, four. Out: two, three, four. Good. Good job, Ash. You're doing great. I'm so proud of you."
The second Max stops counting, Ash starts gulping down air again.
"Hey, slow down there, kiddo. Do you need me to count again?"
Ash shakes his head violently. He needs Max to back the fuck off. Maybe. Or—he's not sure. He needs Max to—something. He's not sure. He can't think straight, and the world is spinning, and—
Max takes a step toward Ash.
"Don't touch me!" Ash all but screams, flinching back. "Don't—don't fucking touch me."
"I wasn't going to." Max's expression is sad.
Ash holds both of his hands up as though to block a hit. Ash holds his breath. Ash feels like he's drowning—wishes he were drowning. Ash—Ash—Ash—
"Ash? What do you need right now, kid?"
"I'm not your kid!"
Max holds both of his hands out, but—placating, not aggressive. "I know you're not," he says, but there's something in his voice. Ash isn't—Ash doesn't—Ash can't figure out what's going on.
"What does that mean?" Ash asks—begs, maybe. He's not sure what he's asking; he's not sure if he wants to know. "What are you saying?"
"You're not my kid, but I think of you as a son. Is that okay?"
Ash barks out a quick laugh, then pulls even more in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. He's on the ground. Max is standing over him. Ash is nineteen, or maybe he's nine, and maybe Max is any other adult that Ash has ever known. Maybe everyone is the same.
"Do you want me to call Eiji?"
Eiji.
Eiji's not the same.
But—
"No!" Ash shouts. "He's—busy." Eiji is gone tonight for work, and Max is staying with Ash to help him cope. To help him cope with Eiji being gone for one fucking night. Like Ash needs a goddamn babysitter.
"I don't think that kid is ever too busy for you. But it's up to you."
"... Don't want him to see me like this," Ash admits. God, he's pathetic. Eiji hasn't even been gone 24 hours yet.
"Okay," Max agrees. He's keeping his hands where Ash can see them, and Ash hates himself. Every time he closes his eyes, Max disappears and turns into someone else. Ash wants to tape his eyes open. Ash wants to cry himself into a dreamless sleep, just one fucking day without a nightmare. Ash doesn't even know what he wants.
Max carefully, slowly crouches down in front of Ash. "Is this okay?" he asks.
"Do what you want," Ash mumbles. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me. What you want me to do matters to me, okay?"
Ash shakes his head. That's not okay. That doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. He's so—so fucking frustrated all the time, and he wants things to be easy, but they never fucking are. Not for him. Never for Ash.
"Stop acting like you care!" Ash says, and he sounds almost hysterical—even he can hear it. He hates when he gets this way. He hates himself when he gets this way. "Stop—stop—stop acting like—"
"I'm not acting," Max interrupts softly, and Ash wants to die.
"Stop," Ash whimpers.
"Stop what?"
"This whole—everything that you're—pretending to—"
"Stop caring about you?" Max asks. He's still crouched down in front of Ash, holding his hands out like Ash is a wild animal. Maybe Ash is.
Ash nods.
"I'm not going to stop caring about you. I'm sorry, but even if I wanted to, I don't think I could. And I don't want to."
"You can't care," Ash says. He doesn't feel as hysterical anymore, but he feels weak, and his voice is shaking, and he's shaking, and—he wants things to be easy.
"Why can't I care?" Max sits back on his heels, never leaning in toward Ash.
"You're an adult," Ash explains. He frowns. "And I'm me."
"So?"
"Adults don't—care. About me. Not like—that."
"Not like what, Ash?"
"This whole thing you've been pretending to do." Why does he have to explain this? Max already knows exactly what he's doing. Max knows exactly what he's putting Ash through.
"I'm not pretending."
"You are, though. And you can't trick me. So stop trying, okay?" Because it's working.
"It's okay if you don't trust me, Ash. I wouldn't ask you to trust me so easily. Not after everything you've been through."
"I haven't been through shit," Ash spits. "It doesn't count when you deserve it."
"You've been through a lot. And you didn't deserve it."
Ash wraps his arms around himself. Rocks back and forth on the floor. Shakes his head. "I did; I did; I did," he explains. "I deserved it. So—you can—stop pretending, okay? You can do whatever you're going to do already. And stop this whole mess."
"I'm not going to hurt you."
"It's okay if you do."
"It wouldn't be okay if I did, and I'm not going to." Max's voice is intense, and his eyes are looking directly at Ash. Ash can't deal with it—that type of gaze—so he looks away.
Everyone has always acted like Ash has a sixth sense about things. Like he can just tell when people are lying, or when there's a threat coming. But the truth of it is that Ash can't tell when people are lying; they just always are. He doesn't have a sixth sense for when there's an incoming threat; he just always knows to anticipate an attack. Everyone is always out to get him, and that's okay.
It's saved Ash's life time and again.
And now, it's killing him.
He can't deal with the hypervigilance anymore. He doesn't want to be this way anymore. He doesn't want to do this. He feels like he's—he's fucking going insane. The paranoia that's never been paranoia before—it's always been accurate in the past—now it's driving a wedge between him and even the people he loves, the people who helped him.
He can't trust anyone, because everyone is just ... They're all the same, right?
But Eiji—Eiji—Eiji—
But Eiji's not here. This is Max.
But if Eiji's different, statistically speaking, there have to be other people in the world who are good too, right? But—it doesn't make sense. Nothing fucking makes sense.
"You're going to hurt me," Ash explains to Max. "You're going to do—whatever. So just get it over with, okay? I'll let you, or—I'll fight, if that's how you want it. Just tell me, and I'll do it. But stop this whole charade. Let's just get to the part where you fuck me."
Max flinches, hissing out a breath.
"What?" Ash asks. "What's your problem? Are you one of those guys who likes to pretend that what you're doing isn't—this? We can do that too. I can be whatever—"
"Ash!" Max interrupts. "Fucking stop, okay?"
"... Stop what?" Ash asks. He uncurls from himself a little, realizing suddenly that he wasn't in the most inviting position. Maybe that was the problem. He leans in toward Max, shifting onto all fours. "Just tell me. I'm sure you've heard how—"
Max stands up.
Ash can't help himself from flinching back.
"I'm here to help you, Ash, but I'm not going to let you do this to yourself. Come get me when you're ready to talk and work through this without—this."
Ash cries himself to sleep on the floor.
— — —
"Hey," Ash tries the next morning. Acting like things are normal. Acting like there's such a thing as normal for Ash.
"Hey," Max replies simply.
Ash doesn't meet his gaze.
"You want breakfast?" Max asks.
"Not hungry," Ash mumbles.
"Eat something, kiddo. You'll feel better."
Ash's head snaps up. "What do you—"
"Don't fight me on this one. You look like shit."
Well, in Ash's defense, he slept on the living room floor. Definitely not the worst place he's ever slept, but still not great.
"I, uh ... I'm sorry. About last night," Ash says softly.
"How are you feeling now?"
"... Better," Ash admits. "I think I needed to cry it out. I—I shouldn't have taken it out on you. That was—god, I'm—"
"Reframe?" Max interrupts.
Ash feels so fucking stupid. He shouldn't need a babysitter every time Eiji leaves. He's fucking nineteen, and he's been all but on his own since he was six. He doesn't need—this.
A father figure.
Ash swallows.
"I'm sorry," he says again. "I didn't mean to behave that way. I get—confused, sometimes, and it's easy to—with you." With an adult man.
"I understand," Max says. "Or—I don't, really. I won't say that I understand. But I don't hold it against you, kid."
"... Why do you call me that?" Ash asks suddenly.
Max pulls out the pancake mix. "Call you what? And—can you grab the eggs?"
Ash slips over to the fridge, happy to make everything up to Max in whatever way he can, even if it's just grabbing the eggs. "Kid. Why do you call me kid?"
"Because you're a kid."
Ash frowns, handing Max the eggs. "I'm nineteen."
"Exactly. Crack two into the bowl and mix?"
Ash nods, humming thoughtfully as he follows Max's instructions. "I just—don't get it," Ash says. "How I could be a kid. After everything. I haven't—I've never been a kid, and I've only gotten older. More fucked up."
"Reframe," Max says gently.
God, this is frustrating. "You can't keep pulling this shit. You've got me all sorts of confused, and—if you want to—you should just—"
"If I want to what, Ash?"
".... Whatever," Ash mumbles. "To me. Anything."
"I don't want to do anything to you."
"You know what I mean!" Ash shouts, throwing the whisk down into the bowl.
Max takes the bowl. "I do know what you mean, and I mean it when I say that I don't want that. These look thoroughly mixed; thank you."
"So you're not going to fuck me?" Ash asks. Maybe bluntness will get the point across.
"This isn't good breakfast conversation. But no, I'm not going to."
"Then why did you agree to stay here while Eiji was gone?"
"Why did you agree to let me?"
Ash is silent at that. He—he's not sure. He did agree, though. Jess offered, too, but—maybe on some level, Ash wanted to trust Max, even if he's still telling himself that that trust is a mistake.
"... I don't know," he answers eventually.
"Was it to test me?" Max asks. "It's okay if it was."
"I don't—I don't think so? I don't know." Ash shakes his head. He balls his hands into fists at his sides and watches as Max pours the batter into the pan. It sizzles, and Ash simmers.
It's quiet for a bit.
"I'm sorry that I walked out on you," Max says softly.
"... Why did you?" Ash asks, just as quiet.
"I didn't know how best to handle the situation. And I didn't want you to use me to hurt yourself."
Ash hums. Looks down at the floor. "So you weren't worried that you'd give in if you stayed?"
"Give in to what you were asking?"
Ash nods curtly.
"No, I wasn't worried about that."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want that. And that's not going to change just because you're expecting it to."
"It's not that I expect it to change, necessarily." Ash watches as Max stacks several pancakes onto a plate.
"Where do you keep the syrup?"
"Oh—I'll grab it. It's just—I think some part of me thinks that you're lying. Even if I don't want to think that you're lying. You know?"
Max nods thoughtfully. "What can I say or do to help you with that?"
"I don't know," Ash admits. He hovers awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen.
"Well, sit down and eat your pancakes, first of all, and let's talk it out."
"My—what?"
Max sets the plate down on the kitchen table. "Your pancakes?"
... Huh. Ash kinda-sorta thought Max was cooking for himself, not for Ash.
He averts his eyes.
"Thanks," he mumbles. "Did you already eat?"
Max shakes his head and goes back to the stove. "Kids always eat first," he says gently.
"Oh," Ash croaks. He sits down at the table, a little hesitant. He saw Max cook the meal, so ... "T-thanks," he manages. He sniffles.
Max brings a fork over to him—Ash didn't even realize he didn't have one. "You okay, kiddo?"
Ash nods. "Yeah, I—I'm fine. I'm sorry. I'm fine." He rubs at his eyes with his sleeve. Fuck. "I just—didn't expect—"
Max gently hands Ash the fork. Max has seen what Ash can do with even that simple of a weapon, and he still puts the power in Ash's hands. Ash gently takes the fork, careful to touch Max's skin as little as possible.
"Thanks," Ash says again. Takes a bite. Holds in a sob. "This is good," he mumbles. "Thank you."
"Of course, kid." Max heads back over to the stove. "So do you want to talk about what we can do moving forward after last night? Is there anything I can do to help you trust me more, or anything we can work on together?"
"... I think we're okay, actually," Ash whispers. He breathes out a laugh. "I think we'll be okay."