David lies in bed, still restless after the unexpected turn of events throughout the day. His eyes flicker to his phone. It was almost 2 AM, and he hadn't gotten a lick of sleep since he put Max to bed at 10. He knows he has to get a decent amount of sleep in order to drive and make a whole bunch of complicated phone calls that afternoon, but thinking about that just made him more and more anxious- and that anxiety therefore leads to less sleep.

Vicious cycle.

It's worth it to mention, he didn't mind physically making the phone calls or the paperwork in the slightest, no. Max was well worth the effort, the kid deserved to be happy, and if that meant David putting in the time and effort to make it so, then gosh darn it he would do it with an entire song and dance. No, the actual work wasn't the problem.

It was the fear of messing it all up.

David would be the first to say that he was great with kids. Most people would probably agree too, if his glowing teacher and counselor evaluations held any merit. He could teach in a clear and concise manner, ran large group activities effortlessly, and could even get some of the most… unruly kids to participate and warm up to him, Max included.

But raising a child? Even disregarding all of the ways the actual paperwork and legal things could turn out, David, however positive he might seem to be, still wasn't sure he could do the best for Max. He knew that this would be a better household than what he came from, sure, but that wasn't something to phone home about. Heck, he wasn't even sure if Max enjoyed his company. There were times where he thought he was taking steps forward, where he thought he was helping and Max was opening up, but then there were also times where he thought he was taking ten steps backwards, and he was sure that instability wasn't something that would vanish in the coming days. Max was a complicated kid, with a complicated past, a past that David didn't even know a lot about beyond some vague assumptions.

He thought he knew him, based on the months they'd spent together at Camp, but the Max that he saw back at his house, with his parents, proved different. David had to be careful with the boy, as he had no idea what words or actions might cause him to spiral back into the state that his father put him in, and that was the last thing Max needed. If David could go the rest of his life without seeing him that scared, that panicked, he'd consider himself blessed, but the possibility of being the cause of that makes him incredibly nervous.

The best thing he could do was just take it one step at a time. First, he had to get Max into some proper schooling. It'll take some time to actually get him enrolled, but David could probably get permission to let him sit in on his classes while the paperwork was getting processed. The real debate was whether to come clean with everything that was going on with the boy, or if he should come up with some white lies to keep them from prying too much- then again, the lies he'd already come up with were far-fetched to begin with. It wouldn't take that much more to make the school suspicious.

In the middle of David's thoughts, he hears the faint rattle of his bedroom door behind him. He doesn't have to flip over to know it's Max. He shuts his eyes and steadies his breathing, relaxing into a more natural position on his side to feign sleep. He strains his ears, waiting for anything, a name, a question. What was he even doing up at this hour, anyways? It had to be past 2:30 in the morning, at this point.

He hears Max's footsteps softly slide against the hardwood floor, then hears his phone and charger gently taken from his nightstand. He frowns then, which, thank goodness he was facing away from the boy, but still, did he really come in just to steal his phone again? As much as he didn't like to stereotype this generation, he did silently complain about their apparent infatuation with technology.

Still, he let Max shuffle out of the room and close his door. As far as he knew, Max hasn't done much on it besides download a few games and surf the web. He checked his bank account and social media pages earlier that day, and they've both been left untouched, thank goodness.

David rolls onto his back and glances at his empty nightstand and then at the closed door, furrowing his brow in worry. Did Max normally not sleep well? Come to think of it, he was up earlier than David yesterday with his phone, too. These nights have been stressful, as evidenced by David's own insomnia, so he couldn't really blame him for not being able to sleep.

The kid also seemed to function better with a cup of coffee in the morning, but David didn't have any, here or at home. He didn't want to supplement a bad habit, but maybe he could pick up a small tin of the stuff Monday evening. Along with a coffee maker… and some filters… he'll take Max along, just to be sure. Should he move the shopping trip to Sunday? He didn't even think about how much food he had at home already, and it's probably not the type of stuff that fits Max's preferences.

David's lips press into a thin line, and he sits up, hovering on the edge of his bed for a little bit, twiddling his thumbs in his lap. Should he check on Max? Would that be appreciated, or would it just bother him? Would he open up, or push him away? Everything was a gamble, and David just didn't have a clue as to what the kid would respond well to.

The counselor stands and crosses the room, quietly fumbling around in his backpack to pull out a book he packed. It wasn't anything terribly interesting, a book of poetry his parents got him a long time ago, but it was an excuse to be up. Somewhat underhanded, but… gosh, he was so worried.

So, quietly, as to not scare the boy, David enters the living area.

TTTTTTTT

Max hears David's door click open, and isn't surprised when the man himself appears. His eyes draw back into the phone.

"David." He greets.

"Hey, Max." David walks over to the couch, taking a seat on the other side. "Couldn't sleep either?"

Max stares down David for a few seconds, contemplating his motives. Is he out here to scold him? Did he know he took his phone?

He decides to shrug. "Just wanted to know the time, no electricity for the alarm clock." He holds the phone and charger out to the counselor. "You can have it back, if you want."

David shakes his head, opening up his book and positioning it in the moonlight. "I'm good, I just came out for better lighting, is all."

Max pulls the phone back towards himself cautiously, turning it back on and reopening his own online book. The phone's only gone down around 5%, so he should have enough power to keep reading until the sun comes up. He settles further into the couch, resuming his page. He tries to continue reading, but just winds up skimming over the same paragraph again and again. He sighs, rolling his head back on the arm of the couch and staring at the ceiling.

"David, why are you really out here? You were asleep like, half an hour ago."

Max doesn't look at David, but the man hesitates anyways. He chuckles. "Can't fool you, Max. I was awake when you took my phone." A pause. "I- I was just concerned about you, is all. Should I… head back?"

Max huffs, half wanting David to go back in his room, but also somewhat enjoying the company. "No, it's fine. I'm fine, too. Just couldn't sleep."

Like a stupid kid.

"Can you usually not sleep?" David asks.

"I get enough sleep." That doesn't answer his question, dumbass.

"You're dodging the question." Yep, figures.

"Jesus- fine, no, okay? I don't get… a lot of sleep, but it doesn't matter." Just please drop it.

"Max, that isn't good for you, I-"

Max's head snaps up and he raises his voice, causing David to jump. "It doesn't matter, David. Stop treating me like a fucking kid, I'm fine." Shit, he was getting worked up.

David closes his book, looking tense. In a voice much too soft for Max's liking, he says "I just want to make sure you're... okay, after everything."

Really? Alright, that's it, screw being calm. "David, just fucking stop, okay?"

This is the time when David gets it through his thick head. "You're acting weird- you're acting crazy weird, and I- I hate it! All today you've been talking to me in this stupid, small voice and giving me weird stares, thinking that I'm going to- to break or some shit because you say the wrong thing!"

Max sits up, suddenly using the increased lung capacity to yell. "I'm not some fragile little kid that's going to have a goddamn mental breakdown because you mention my parents or because you say something marginally upsetting, okay? I've been through worse- that, that thing that I did at my parent's house wasn't normal, wasn't- wasn't a regular thing."

He takes a moment to breathe. "I'm fine, David. I'm still exactly the same fucking kid that steals your phone out from under your nose, blackmails entire organizations, sent Campbell to jail, and runs your entire goddamned shitty summer camp!"

David blinks, taken aback by the rant, but relaxes some. He smiles that stupid, fucking smile, and then shakes his head, almost condescendingly.

Jesus Christ, Max is going to fucking explode-

David, sensing this, holds the poetry book up like a shield. "Wait, Max- I promise that I don't think you're fragile. Everything you said is absolutely right!"

Max visibly calms, listening as David continues. "You're more than some kid with a troubled home life, and even though I might have been… a bit nervous around you, I do know that you're still the same Max that I spent the summer with." David lowers the book, setting it beside them on the coffee table. "That incident at your house doesn't change the way I see you in the slightest, even if you don't believe me."

David's smile evolves into one of genuine pride. "In fact, I think you're probably one of the strongest, smartest, most resourceful kiddos I've ever known. I just… I was worried, mostly about myself. The last thing I want to do is be an obstacle for you, like your parents are. I want to be supportive, I want to help you, I want to be there for you, but acting like you're someone that needs to be handled with care, or in some sort of new, special way, isn't the right way to do it. In fact, that would probably make me pretty mad, too." He laughs.

"I promise, Max, that I'll do my best to not treat you any differently. It was wrong of me, and... I'm sorry. I hope that you can forgive me."

Max begins to cool off, fidgeting as he thinks about what David said. For some reason, the things he was saying made him… uncomfortable. Vulnerable, ironically. He couldn't tell anyone why that was.

He couldn't tell himself why.

After a short silence, he groans and ruffles his own hair.

"David, I- you're fine. I'm fine! There's no way in hell that you could ever be anything close to how shitty they are." He lowers his voice some. "The whole fact that I'm here with you fucking proves that." He pauses for a little bit, and David lets him fidget and think.

"Besides, your annoying, happy-go-lucky attitude is like, the exact opposite of my parents. I'm pretty sure it's physically impossible for you to be an asshole like they were. Yeah, I was annoyed that you were treating me like a baby, but… thanks, I guess. For caring."

David sniffles, and Max glances over to him, noticing that the man's getting teary-eyed. The counselor opens up his arms, moving in for a hug, and Max almost falls off of the arm of the couch trying to back away from the affection.

"Hey, HEY! No hugs! Personal space, camp man, I'm warning you!"

David backs off, clasping his hands together and nodding, but he still has that stupid grin on his face. Max relaxes, sitting back down on the couch properly.

"Don't- it doesn't mean that I like it here or anything, so don't get your hopes up." His eyes flicker over for a split second. "And stop crying, David. You're like 25, it's gross."

David wipes his eyes, nodding again. "I can go back to my room, Max, if you want to keep playing games out here. You'll have plenty of time to sleep in the car, so don't worry too much about it."

Max rubs the back of his neck. "I, um… actually... think I'm gonna go to sleep. Here." Max holds David's phone and charger out to him, and the counselor gently takes them. "I… don't think I'll need this anymore. Thanks, though."

Max jumps off the couch, wandering to his room. Shortly before reaching the doorway, David speaks in a soft, tired voice.

"Goodnight, Max." He says. "Sweet dreams."

Max hesitates, opening his bedroom door and stepping in before turning around to face David.

"I- yeah. You too, David. Goodnight."

He quietly shuts the door, pulling off his hoodie and crawling in bed. It takes him a little bit, but eventually, after hearing David enter his own bedroom, Max manages to get a few extra hours of sleep that night.

It's not quite 8, but it'll do.