Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Summer was officially over. Camp Campbell was closed until the next year.

It was exactly what Max had dreaded all season long. The day Max would have to go back home. This wasn't his first year at camp, it was actually the fourth, but it was the first time he felt happy all season long. Last year, he had a single friend who had to leave early due to an incident. This year, whether he'd admit it or not, he was friends with everyone at camp. 

Max had recently realized that there wasn't just one answer as to why he's changed so much this year. He thought back to the day David attempted to start a bonfire for the Order of the Sparrow ceremony. At the memory, Max glanced back at his almost empty backpack and focused on his hand of the staff slightly sticking out. 

The man next to Max cleared his throat, causing the boy's gaze to immediately snap back to the front. That was a reminder of another event that shifted everything for Max. Parent's Day. His heart ached at the memory of attempting to swallow down his pain and, as a result, act out even worse than he typically did. He remembered the jealousy rising in him when the other campers put on their acts with their parents. He remembered his heart shattering when David and Gwen finally realized what made Max the way he is.

I told you, they didn't care.

Max swallowed and attempted to focus on his surroundings. Trees transformed into buildings and more cars filled the almost tranquil atmosphere as Max's heart dropped in the realization that they were in the city. They were home.

The sun began to set when the car pulled up next to a sidewalk and Max, with his backpack adjusted onto his shoulder, followed his father into the nearby apartment building. He felt so big and bad when David and Gwen brought the campers to the city, but now he felt small and weak. Max hid his shaky hands in his hoodie's pocket and quietly took a deep breath, as if he was afraid to exist too loudly.

This wasn't the Max that everyone in Camp Campbell knew. This Max was quiet, obedient, polite, and everything the boy had fought so hard to be the opposite of. He even flinched when his father's deep and raspy voice reached his ears.

"I have to run to the store soon. Your mother's sleeping so be quiet."

Max felt his ever so aching heart reach out and grip its hands around his throat, making it hard to speak up clearly. "Yes, sir."

Without another word, Max's father left for the bathroom and Max made his way to his room. The apartment always had felt so cold after spending all summer at Camp Campbell. The walls were a deep grey and the floors a dark muted brown. There was minimal decorations within the apartment, save for some knick knacks from India, and almost no clutter. It was as if no one ever lived in this space. Max passed by his parents' room and glanced in. He watched his mother nap peacefully, sighing in disappointment when he noticed the empty wine bottles on the floor. 

'Best she stay asleep,' Max thought to himself. He opened his bedroom door and sighed again. The walls were bare and there were no toys besides Mr. Honeynuts, who claimed his spot back on Max's bed. Max took out his staff and hid it under his bed. He carefully put back his limited belongs, which in retrospect, was all he even owned. 

When Max heard the front door click shut, signifying that his father had left, Max frowned at how silent everything was. He missed the sounds of Nikki's laughter while Neil warned her of whatever danger she was putting them all in. He missed the platypus hissing at anyone who passed by its side of the table. He missed Gwen's annoyed groaning and Cameron's bullshit speeches covered up in inspiration. 

But most of all, Max missed David. Past summers, Max happily flipped off the red-headed counselor and could not wait to get as far as he could from the man but even then, a void of emptiness filled an area in his heart. It had only grown since then and, this year, it was at an all time high. As much as he'd still never admit it, Max craved for David to praise him, cheer him on, hug him, or just care for him one more time.

Max felt himself smile in his reflection and he pulled out a stick Nikki had given him as a parting gift. He carefully removed it from his hoodie pocket when a small piece of paper fell out. He placed the stick in a drawer, filled with the smaller things his parents wouldn't approve of, and examined the writing on the paper as he picked it up.

Max,

Your fourth summer here at Camp Campbell is over and, most likely by the time you'll read this, you'll be back at home. I hope you didn't forget what I said during Parent's Day. You deserve to be happy. If anything or anyone at all bothers you, please do not hesitate to reach out. My number is below.

– David

P.S. I'm so proud of you

Max took a deep breath when he finished and realized by the shakiness that he was on the verge of crying. He contemplated letting it come when he heard the door to his parents' room creak, and he quickly swallowed and wiped the would-be sob session away. He stuffed the note away in his pocket and whipped around to face the woman at his doorway.

"Where's your father?" His mother asked. Even from a distance, Max could smell the alcohol. The sudden realization that his fantasies back at camp were gone made him remain silent. 

"Hello?" His mother snapped. "I said where's your father?"

"Oh, uh, he ran to the store not long ago. Maybe twenty minutes ago?" Max spoke slowly in hesitation and caution.

Max's mother hummed in response before slightly wobbling her way to the kitchen. Max followed suit, mainly to be there if she were to fall. 

"Did you behave at camp?" She asked as she searched through the fridge. She pulled out leftover Bombay potatoes and prepared herself a plate before putting it back.

"Of course, Mom," Max said.

"Good. I don't need another fuck up from you like the past whatever years. That reminds me, school's starting up in a week and I refuse to have you embarrass me again this year. Your father and I want straight A's and good behavior reported back to us. If we hear one word of you being a piece of shit…"

"I understand, Mom. I'll be good. I promise."

Max's mother nodded and ate her food. At the sight, Max felt his stomach rumble and he remembered he'd eaten nothing since breakfast at the camp. His mom rolled her eyes when she noticed him staring.

"If you're hungry, then ask. Don't stare at someone like an asshole and expect them to read your mind," she paused. "For fuck's sake, just get whatever of this is left and leave me the hell alone."

"Yes, Ma'am."

When Max began eating his dinner, albeit too small to do much to fill him, his mother left him alone to go back to her room. When the door clicked shut, Max let out what felt like the tenth sigh since he'd returned home. He cleaned both dishes and went back to his own room to look over the paper.

A million thoughts ran through the boy's head but two stood out: how the hell does he call David if necessary and how the hell does he avoid being caught?

He began to forge a plan that he admittedly didn't have much faith in when he heard his father return home. Stuffing the paper away once more, he grabbed the nearest item to him, Mr. Honeynuts, and pretended to have been playing with him when his father came in.

"Did your mom- I swear, boy, you need to grow up. You're too old for teddy bears," his father groaned. "Anyway, did your mom wake up yet?"

"Yeah, just to get something to eat. She went back to your room a couple of minutes ago," Max swallowed.

A muffled voice called out to Max's father. The man rolled his eyes and followed it. Knowing what was going to happen, Max tightened his grip on the bear.

"The hell do you want?" The man yelled.

Back at camp, Max used to be scared of the silence that came during the night. His brain would fill the empty space with memories of moments just like this. It always made his heart race and stomach turn. Whenever things had escalated to a certain point, the boy would make his way to the counselor's cabin. There, with little to no words between the two, Max and David would simply sit together and quietly watch TV until Max inevitably fell asleep. He'd always wake up back in his tent but the warm feeling of being somehow cared for stuck with him throughout most of the day.

Max shook his head when the shattering of a wine bottle ringed in his ears. Summer was officially over and Max would have to resort to his old ways, as if nothing happened over the last three months. It was his only chance of survival.

Max covered his ears as best as he could to muffle out his parents' argument. This was going to be a long year.

Chapter Text

It had been a few days since he came home but Max still felt the overwhelming amount of dread whenever he opened his eyes each morning. The dim light peeking through his blinds indicated that it was yet another cloudy morning. Max stretched and sat up in his bed, taking a moment to listen for any sign that his parents were awake. There were no sounds of his father's snoring which meant it had to be after 6am. Listening closer, Max confirmed there were no sounds of the shower or objects shuffling in the living room or kitchen, meaning his father had most likely left for work at this point.

As careful as he could, Max stood from bed and groaned when he remembered what was awaiting him today. It was the first day of school already and Max dreaded the day almost as much as he dreaded the last day of camp. He didn't mind the break from his parents but his school was the complete opposite of Camp Campbell. 

The school had a chilling atmosphere filled with shades of muted colors that, upon inspection, may have once been filled with happiness but lost themselves in the depressing environment for which they lived. Success was the expectation, not a triumph, and teachers rarely, if ever, praised the students for doing what they considered the bare minimum. Despite its lack of anything relating to happiness even in the slightest, the school was considered the best in the area and Max's parents made it a point to remind him that they sacrificed everything for him to be amongst what many consider the elite.

After getting dressed in his ever so uncomfortable uniform, Max made his way to the kitchen to find something to eat. Settling on some cereal, he ate in silence until the creaks of the old wooden floor alerted the boy of his mother's presence. The two said nothing to each other and Max was able to finish his bowl before the woman spoke up.

"I meant what I said about being on your best behavior, Max. One call from the principal about whatever bullshit you pull…" she trailed off.

"I know, Mom. I'll be good," Max said.

"You're going to be fucking perfect," her voice lowered. "I held your father back last year, Max. Don't think I'll do it again if you continue to embarrass us."

Max swallowed as a rush of anxiety overtook his entire body. He forced himself to take a deep breath to compose himself but he could still feel his bones familiarly ache in apprehension. Ignoring it, Max cleaned his dishes, finished readying himself for school, and left.

—

The one good thing about his home, Max could admit, was the distance between his family's apartment and his school. It was short enough so Max didn't feel like he'd gone through hell to get there but long enough to process whatever emotions or thoughts of recent events plagued his young mind. It was usually related to school or his parents, namely his father, but a new type of thought crept into the mental spotlight. 

A fantasy too dangerous to ever speak out loud, especially at home. Words that, months ago, would have been met with intense cringe from the ten year old but now was meant with a sense of yearning and sadness. It was a rabbit hole like no other and Max felt his heart strings tug and yank and twist around the further he fell into it. 

"You don't have to go, Max," David would say.

"Yes, I do," Max would reply, shamefully sounding more broken than he'd prefer. "He's my dad."

David would kneel down to his level, looking into his eyes with a level of determination that almost intimidated the boy. "I can take care of you if you want to stay with me."

The sound of a car beeping in the distance made Max jump back into reality and instinctively wipe the tears that had emerged from his tired eyes. Max felt his heart beat heavier.

'That's not even close to what happened,' Max thought to himself. 'David let you go.'

Despite rarely talking to Max outside of lectures and punishments, Max's parents had taught him what he considered an incredibly valuable lesson — nothing is more dangerous than hope.

Hope often led to disappointment and Max was no stranger to this lesson. He spent most of his young life hoping that, somehow, his parents would prove that Max was wrong and that they loved him more than anything. Each interaction, or really a lack of, sent the boy into a spiral of internal isolation that he rarely could make himself claw out of. Now seemingly forever trapped in this damnation, Max often found himself apathetic when it came to the daily negligence he endured from his parents. It became his normal.

But this disappointment wasn't aimed at his parents; it was aimed at the camp counselor he grew to appreciate. While Max would never admit it, even on his deathbed, he felt the safest with David. For every injury, nightmare, internal crisis, or camp-related conflict, Max always found himself running to David. It was almost instinct at this point to trust the man he once worked so hard to break. Max may have felt embarrassed especially during his more vulnerable times but it was never to the fault of David. He, and Gwen, cared for him in a way that both of his parents never could. 

And the fact they still sent him back to his own personal hell without as much as a second thought made Max's blood boil in rage. It didn't take much to anger the boy but this new emotion was on an entirely deeper level than Max was used to. It was a type of pain no physical injury could compare to and it forced Max to pause and collect himself.

In his best attempts, Max pushed his feelings back and continued his journey to his school. Unfortunately for Max, his classroom was on the third floor. With a sound mixed between a sigh and a groan, Max climbed the stars and begrudgingly navigated his way to his class. Once inside, he scanned the room and looked for the farthest seat possible. He chose the only seat next to a window and dropped his backpack in the small area between his desk and the wall. He glanced outside and watched the morning rush pass by on the surrounding streets and sidewalks. After some time, his ears twitched as the sound of a man entered the room.

"Good morning, class, I'm Mr. Evans. Welcome to the fifth grade. I'm going to be passing out the syllabus for the year. I trust you will all show these to your parents and bring back the slip on the bottom of the last page signed. Any questions, comments, or concerns may be discussed in email or after class."

Mr. Evans began handing out papers and Max cursed to himself. Mr. Evans was a very monotonous man, much like the school, and Max soon learned this was going to be a rather uneventful year. The teacher was an old man, estimated to be in his late 60's to early 70's, and wore a permanent frown on his dry freckled face. Large black glasses with thick lenses sat on his nose and would've hidden the man's thick eyebrows if it weren't for the white hairs blending in with his skin.

Max continued to study the man and didn't realize the subject was standing in front of him until he cleared his throat, causing Max to slightly jump in his seat.

"Is there a problem, son?" Mr. Evans asked. He placed the syllabus on Max's desk but didn't break eye contact.

"No, man- I mean sir. No, sir."

Mr. Evans made a disapproving noise before continuing back to his desk, putting away extra papers. Max sighed in relief and leaned back in his chair. The student sat in front of him turned around and whispered, making Max lean slightly forward.

"Be careful, dude. Mr. Evans isn't someone to mess with," the student warned.

"Oh, please. I've dealt with a lot more fucked up shit than a grumpy ass teacher," Max said confidently with an eye roll, but remained quiet all the same.

"I heard some kid tried to stand up to him after he wrongfully failed a classmate and that kid was immediately kicked out of the school. Now she's at some run down public school on the outskirts of the city."

Max raised his eyebrows and almost responded but was ultimately cut off by Mr. Evans beginning his lesson. He learned back in his chair and crossed his arms, making no attempt to listen to what the teacher had to say. The rest of class felt like years had dragged on by, and eventually the bell rang to signal the end of the school day.

As Max began to make his way out of the school, he couldn't help but feel uneasy. Sure, the day had been incredibly boring and yes, Max would've rather watch paint dry than spend another day in class, but it was a surprisingly easy day. Nothing like what had occurred the year prior.

But Max should have known better than to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, asshole! Guys, look who it is! The little bitch from last year! We really missed you this summer, man. Where've you been?"

Max avoided eye contact with the older boy and stuffed his hands in his pockets, suddenly missing his blue hoodie.

"I was visiting family, Kevin," Max rolled his eyes. "Not like I'd expect you to know anything about that."

Max's attempts to figuratively push Kevin away were only met with a snicker from the boy and his middle school friends. Kevin knelt down to Max's level, forcing eye contact.

"Nice one but don't think you can lie to us now, Max. Rumor says your parents dropped you off at a summer camp because they couldn't deal with you anymore."

"That isn't true, dumbass."

"Which part?" Kevin asked with feigned innocence. "You going to a summer camp or Mommy and Daddy not loving you?"

Max tried to keep his cool and ignore his provoking but was mostly unsuccessful. He felt his rage bubble and he glared at Kevin with fists clenched tightly, now out of the pockets. Kevin once again laughed and leaned away, dramatically holding a hand to his chest. 

"Oh, my! Now, kid, we don't want to do that again, do we? I'd hate to see what your parents do in response this time. I mean, if I was them, I'd haul your ass straight to the orphanage."

"Fuck off. I don't have time for this."

With a cocky grin, Kevin walked past Max and gave him a rough pat on the back. "Don't worry, kid. We'll leave you alone for now."

With an unfaltering glare, Max continued to watch the boys leave. Once they were out of sight, Max continued his way back home with no attempt at ceasing the scowl on his face.

Only 282 days left until the first day of Camp Campbell.

Chapter Text

With yet another silent disappointed sigh, Max closed the apartment door behind him and faced the almost empty living room. His parents were adamant on keeping their home clean, despite not being the most luxurious of spaces, and almost everything seemed to be exactly where it was when Max had left for school that morning.

Almost everything, which Max immediately caught on to as his eyes fixated on the object placed carelessly on the coffee table. His heart dropped to the floor and he couldn't make himself swallow his sudden fear without feeling as if he was choking. His legs desperately twitched to run but he remained paralyzed. A million thoughts ran through Max's mind that he didn't realize his father glaring at him until the man cleared his throat.

"What is this?" His father asked too calmly.

Max hesitated to answer. He continued to stare at the staff he had gotten in the beginning of summer. The Order of the Sparrow was a seemingly pointless tradition at first and it was once under a list of things Max would instinctively roll his eyes at and do everything in his power to avoid. Max believed it was some sort of ego boost for David. After the bonfire, however, Max realized that David never wanted Max to be happy for his own pride but because David truly believed Max deserved to be happy. David deeply and genuinely cared for Max and it was something Max once was afraid to accept.

In Camp Campbell, Max knew whatever thought or emotion he expressed would be met with a lecture from David at the worst. He knew that, no matter how much he angered David that day, the overly optimistic camp counselor would be there for Max. David encouraged Max to be himself, even if it led to David being tied up to a flagpole once again, because David wanted Max to be happy.

But gone were the days of feeling safe enough to even play with the idea of being happy. This wasn't Camp Campbell, it was an endless minefield. It was only a matter of time before Max stepped in the wrong spot and he considered himself lucky to have been sent to a summer camp before he'd slip.

Feeling his father's disappointed glare intensifying into his very soul, Max realized he hadn't said a word. He managed to get a few words out.

"It was, it was from camp."

"It's broken," his father stated, examining the staff. "Where's the other half?"

"David has it."

"So not only did you steal this, you broke it too."

Max's eyes widened. "No, no! He broke it and later gave me the other half. I promise!"

"Why would he do that, then? What did you do to deserve it?"

"I- I don't know!"

Max's father paused for a moment, in thought. "You've never positively talked about David before this summer. Did something different happen this year?"

Max attempted to answer but nothing came out, making his father annoyed.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that you've suddenly taken interest in that camp? After three years of hearing how much you hated it?" His father raised his eyebrow.

Max could feel sweat creeping out of his skin. "David-"

Max's father threw the staff towards the nearby wall, creating a darkened scratch in the otherwise perfectly white paint. Max flinched and he felt his knees wobble as he tried to back away from his father. The man's anger grew and he pointed accusingly at his son.

"What? Did David make you feel special with that stupid stick? Was he the father you always wanted?"

Max backed into a wall. He felt his sweat drip down to his internally strangled neck. His father stood directly above him, cutting off the sunlight from the nearby window.

"He wasn't! He just didn't know what else to do with it. I don't want a different dad! You're perfect!" Max attempted to swallow.

"You're lying to me, Max. You know why you go to that camp every year and you directly disrespect your mother and I by embarrassing us? Do you make it seem like we're inadequate to be your parents? To be good parents, Max?"

"No, you're good parents, really! I didn't even want to take part in that whole thing, David made me as a, as a punishment! For what I did!"

"And what did you do?" His father's eyes narrowed.

Feeling his heart's weight drag him down, Max panicked. He cursed at himself for possibly escalating an already dangerous situation.

"Ah, shit," he mumbled.

Max could barely process the sting that engulfed his left cheek, much less the small cut below his eye. He instinctively brought his hand to his face and stared back at his father. His father brought his own hand back down and the scene Max found himself in almost made the boy cry right then and there.

"Max," his father backed up, "I suggest you don't lie to me again or there will be more serious consequences. Now, go to your room before you do something just as stupid."

Max's eyes shifted to the ground. His voice wavered. "Okay."

Without another word, Max clumsily shuffled towards his bedroom and closed the door. As soon as he knew he was out of his father's range, Max's tears flowed down his cheeks. The painful ache twisted Max's emotions to rage and he began to throw every little thing he had collected from camp into the trash bin.

His hand brushed over the small note and he paused to read it again. His eyes glued themselves to David's number. Max contemplated calling but ultimately decided against it. There was no way Max could get to David without raising his parents' suspicions. Besides, Max believed, there was no real reason to call.

With the sound of a door click, Max quickly hid the note again and turned to face the source. His father stood at the door, his anger still haunting his features; however, he appeared more calm than minutes before.

"Get dressed," his father said. "We're going out for dinner with my boss and his wife."

"Why?"

"A higher position is open at my job and, if all goes well tonight, I have a good shot at getting the promotion."

"Okay," Max began to look for suitable clothes but paused to look at his father when the man spoke.

"I'm dead serious, Max. If you so much as roll your eyes at anything tonight… You know what happens."

Max felt his eyes slightly widen and he nodded. "Yes, sir."

His father made an approving noise and left Max alone to change. Max felt his heart pound against his ribcage and he blinked away any remaining tears that threatened to sneak out of his eyes. Max changed into a simple white dress shirt and black pants. He slipped on a matching black blazer.

'That'll have to do,' he thought.

His father called for him to hurry along and, when he opened his door, he realized his mother had been home the whole time. She looked tired and most likely had recently woken up. She wore a long black dress with spaghetti straps and a small slit in the right side of the skirt. Her jewelry was basic but overall it sold the false image Max's parents were obsessed with upholding.

Max followed his parents out the door and slipped his hands in his pockets. One hand fiddled with the folder up piece of paper that contained David's number. Max's guard remained as high as possible and he put all his focus into looking as unsuspicious as possible.

In the car, Max failed at keeping his heartbeat steady. It pounded and pounded and pounded as his mind raced through thoughts and fears alike. It was completely silent, save for the soft whispers of the radio, and tension was thicker than usual. Max believed that maybe this had to do with the potential promotion but something in his heart suspected a much more sinister thought.

'No matter how tonight goes,' Max concluded, 'I need to be ready for it.'