Chapter Text
Daniel liked his job.
He liked water in its every form and kind, he swore he had been born with a swimming suit on, he had been swimming for as long as he could remember. Water had always given him some sense of freedom, whenever he felt like the world was getting too hard to handle, all he had to do was look for him swimsuit and get to the beach. Water had saved him in some ways during his teen years.
After leaving his hometown and moving to the other side of the world, earning money by teaching little kids how to swim just seemed right to him.
Of course, he liked kids too. He had always been good with his nephew and yes, not being able to see him anymore sucked, but that was fine, Daniel was well aware that he wouldn’t be seeing him anytime soon when he packed his belongings and left. Teaching other kids how to swim made him feel somehow connected to his nephew. He liked to think that he’d be spending so much time with that little one if only he could and every time some kid smiled at him, Daniel couldn't help but see his nephew's smile in theirs.
His last class just ended and Daniel already sent all the kids to the showers, so he could focus on cleaning up the mess they made together. It was one of the main rules, no matter how tired he was, no matter how many kids pulled at his hair or kicked him in the balls, he needed to fix everything: swimming noodles to the left; toys in the yellow box, except for the balls, they went in the blue box; spare goggles on the shelf.
He was still dripping water onto the floor, only in his swimming pants when Christian appeared in front of him.
“Do you want to earn more money, Daniel?” the man asked and Daniel didn't know how he was supposed to answer. Of course he did, he had been tight on money for months now, but when he asked for a pay rise Christian laughed at him.
“I might have a job for you.”
“What is that about?” Now, that could be interesting.
“Private lessons,” Christian told him, kicking a plastic duck with his bare foot towards Daniel, so that he could easily catch it, “The parents are willing to pay as much as you want as long as the kid gets over his fear of water.”
“A lot of kids are scared of water, that wouldn't be such a problem,” Daniel considered out loud.
Christian had always refused private lessons, claiming that kids learn better with other kids. Daniel knew for a fact, he heard him refuse a lot of times, and every time he sighed as disappointed parents left the building with money they would have happily paid and Daniel would have happily accepted. He didn’t know if he was allowed to ask Christian why he changed his mind. After all, Christian was a very friendly guy, but Daniel was an employee, one who really couldn’t afford to lose an opportunity for some extra money just because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
His hesitation must have been evident on his face, so Christien kept on talking and sort of offered him an explanation. “He is a friend of mine and he is having a rough time. I think you are okay for this job.”
“I'm the best, I know!” Daniel replied, sounding as confident as he was. No kid could scare him, even if his parents were Christian’s friends.
“If you say so,” Christian laughed at him, his eyes rolling exaggeratedly.
Daniel laughed back, but then he turned serious once again. Christian was trusting him with a friend’s kid, he had to show some professionality. “I'd really like to do the job.”
“If you're on it, you could meet him tomorrow.”
“Cool. What time?”
“That's the thing. In the evening. Late.”
“My last class ends at 8.30 pm,” Daniel said, well aware that the man who ran the place definitely knew it already.
“9.40 would be a good time then.”
“Are you kidding me? The gym closes at 9.30!”
“And the family wants some privacy.”
“For a swimming lesson?” Daniel asked with a deep frown. But at Christian's reply 'Take it or leave it,' he told himself that time didn't really matter.
He didn't have anything better to do. Or anyone to come back to.
.
Max stared blankly in front of him. His mother's voice in the background kept telling him that it was important for him to try, it was crucial, but Max was so tired of hearing the same words over and over again.
His legs felt heavy, the constant needle like pain making him uncomfortable. He wished he could just get up and run away, but the point was that: he couldn't get up and leave. He was stuck there, with his mom's constant mumbling and his sister's looks of pity.
Of course his father was staring at him with a judgmental look. Max tried to remember if the man ever spoke to him after what happened, but he couldn't recall one single word he said. He didn't even say good morning anymore, barely nodding his head in Max's general direction the rare times they happened to be in the same room.
“I'll think about it,” Max said at some point, just to stop his mother's rambling. His throat was dry and his head hurt, he just wanted to go to bed.
“Christian said-”
“I don't want Christian to be there,” he stated. If he had to do this, if he really had to, at least he had a right to set some rules. Christian not being there was one of them.
Because, surely he loved Christian, he was grateful to him. Christian was with no doubt the main reason why Max was still alive, but he wouldn’t be able to set his foot in a swimming pool if Christian was going to be there and nobody could convince him otherwise.
He played nervously with the hem of his shirt, doing his best to stop his fingers from scratching the skin of his forearms, a bad habit his father had always scolded him for.
Flashes of Christian's freaked out face appeared in Max's messed up mind. The smell of chlorine, Christian' s bloodied hands and Lando's screams were vivid memories and Max felt his throat tighten the same way it did that night. He felt as if he couldn't breathe and instantly pulled at the neck of his shirt, gulping air as fast as he could.
He didn’t want to worry his mother more than necessary, he did his best to be subtle. He wasn’t having a panic attack. He was fine. “I'll think about it,” he mumbled, his lungs burning, tongue struggling to form coherent words. “But I don't want Christian to be there.”
With all his strength, Max forced himself in a standing position, leaning over his crutches. He wished his feet would just move like they used to.
Doctors kept telling him that he had to be happy, that he was already doing better than a few months ago, when he was stuck in bed, forced to use a catheter and a pan because he couldn't even go to the bathroom on his own. But Max was barely eighteen, he was supposed to be able to run and jump. He was at least supposed to be able to reach his bedroom on his own. They could sugar coat it as much as they wanted, but they couldn’t convince Max that it was fine, that he should be thankful it wasn’t any worse. Because it could have been, you know?
With a sigh, he stood on his sore legs, pushing the crutches in front of him, then he leaned on his broad arms - the only parts of his body that were still fit, that he could still recognise in the mirror - and dragged his almost lifeless feet forward.
It took him so long to get to his room it was absolutely frustrating .
His room.
That was not quite the correct word to define his current accomodation. His bedroom used to be upstairs, Max thought bitterly, glancing at the stairs he couldn’t climb.
When he was released from the hospital, Max was wheelchair bound and needed to be carried around everywhere, so they decided to move his bed downstairs to make things easy and for a while he just slept in the living room. Then his psychiatrist pointed out that privacy would have been good for an eighteen years old boy, even if by then privacy was an odd concept to Max. He had been stripped naked by doctors and nurses for weeks, everyone had seen his private area. Even Victoria had had to change him or give him a bath. Everyone had seen him cry and have fits. So yeah, privacy didn’t really matter to him.
But his mother insisted that Max needed his own room on the ground floor and Max didn’t have the strength to fight her on this. After all she had come back home, faced her ex husband and accepted to share the same roof with him just because of Max.
Because Max was eighteen, but he couldn't function as other boys his age, he was trapped in a body that had failed him.
When he reached his bed he was drained and his mind was so confused he felt dizzy. Three months and twelwe days. The last time he went to a swimming pool was so long ago.
It was frightening to think about being there one again.
Then why was he smiling?