Seven

So what now?

Max almost didn't recognize Preston. His dark auburn hair had grown out a little, curled just above his shoulders. He wore a lavender colored scarf, a loose black t-shirt, leggings, and a pair of black ankle boots. He could recognize those eyes anywhere. Almost yellow, but not quite brown.

"You fixed your hair." Was the first thing that came out of Max's mouth. He immediately wished he could die on the spot.

Preston didn't seem to notice his rude remark. "Maxwell? What are you doing here?"

Everyone else seemed to wonder the same thing- But it was slightly lesser from Nikki and Neil, who just looked excited to see him.

He pulled the hoodie over his head, looking away. "I'm getting a stupid education."

Preston looked him up and down. He was suddenly keenly aware of every tear in his jeans, the fact that his hoodie only covered half of his stomach, the black choker on his neck, the red Converses that had dirt from over a year of being in use, and the gauges that he had gotten two years ago on a whim cos he was mad at David. He looked down.

Nikki broke the silence, running over to Max to hug him. "Hey there Max!" She planted a playful kiss to his cheek.

Max pushed her away, but still kept a smile at seeing her. "Hey Nik,"

Neil had walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "I see you got a wardrobe change. Did David agree to it?"

"Pfft," He said, grinning at the taller male. "Hell no."

Harrison feigned a gasp. "Is that a smile?"

Max blew a raspberry at him.

Nerris bounced over. "So what are you majoring in?"

Max almost didn't answer. But he was here, he couldn't bullshit his way out of being in an arts school. "Creative writing," He admitted.

He noticed Preston's eyes widen a little. He hadn't forgotten teaching him how to write.

--

Preston had been practicing his lines on the outskirts of the forest just outside of the amphitheater when he heard crying. He immediately stopped, curiosity piqued. He moved away from the stage, following the sounds into the woods. He stepped behind a tree a few feet away from the crying. Angry cussing was heard from between the sobs. He recognized the angry cussing. Max.

He peeked out from behind the tree. Max was punching himself in the thighs, cursing at himself, wincing as each punch landed. But he didn't stop. It hurt Preston deep into his soul.

He stepped out from behind the tree, right as Max was rearing up another punch. "Max, what the hell are you doing?" He asked, more worried than angry.

Max looked over, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Once he had gotten over his shock, he scrambled to get up, and wiped his eyes, trying his best to look pissed. "Preston, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"Well, I could hear you crying from the damn amphitheater, I couldn't just ignore it." He said, stepping closer to the younger boy. "Now I ask you again. What. The hell. Were you. Doing?"

Max looked at the ground, shoving his hand in his pockets. Preston waited for a reply, although he didn't expect one.

"If I tell you, do you promise not to tell David?" Max mumbled.

"Of course!" Preston was somewhat of a gossip, but if he was told explicitly to keep something a secret, he'd carry it to the grave. He wasn't a monster. Also, he really didn't want to get on Max's bad side.

Max sighed, another tear falling out of his eye. He lifted his hoodie a little, messing with the button and zipper on his jeans. Preston blushed, but continued to watch, somewhat confident that he wasn't going to show Preston his junk.

And, indeed, he was right. Max kept his boxers on, his jeans around his knees. Preston noticed the bruises almost immediately. The newest ones were red, the oldest ones a yellow almost akin to their Camp Campbell shirts. He kneeled, moving his hand to gently touch one of the bruises in the middle of his thigh. Max winced.

Preston quickly drew his hand away. He looked up at Max. "Why?"

Max shrugged as Preston stood up. He took that as a sign to pull up his pants. "I guess... I dunno. I just," He teared up again, looking angry at himself for doing so. "My stupid parents not coming to stupid Parent's Day, the fact that the summer is halfway over and I'm just gonna have to go back to a stupid house where no one gives two shits about me-" He cut himself off with a sob, looking away.

Preston felt angry. Not towards Max, but his family. How could anyone not care for him? Sure, he was an asshole, but he was really sweet when you dig down. And besides, he's just a kid.

He hugged Max. Max didn't respond for a few seconds, before burying his face into Preston's shirt, and wrapped his arms around him.

Preston wasn't sure how long the hug lasted. A few minutes, maybe? But he just held him until the crying died down. "Hey, Max?"

"Hm?"

He pulled Max away, but kept his hands on his shoulders. "What if you were to write?"

"What?" Max looked genuinely confused.

"Writing. About your feelings. Yes, I know it sounds cheesy, but it is a much better alternative to hitting yourself." Preston insisted.

Max looked at the ground once more. "Promise me you'll try?" Preston asked.

"... Promise." He mumbled.

Preston beamed, grabbing Max's hand and leading him out of the forest. "I have a journal in my tent that you could use."

­--

Max had separated himself from the group, signing in at the front desk, receiving his room number and schedule.

He looked around the dorms until he found his room, opening it and setting his duffel down by the door. He collapsed on the bottom bunk, staring across the small room at the desk. He got up, grabbed his bag, placing it on the desk with a thunk. He retrieved his junior counselor shirt, given to him by David, obviously. He pulled some thumbtacks out of the side pocket, returning to his bunk to tack it up.

He heard laughing and muffled talking on the other side of the door. He glanced over, just as Preston walked in. He noticed Max on the bed right away.

He glanced over at the green shirt that Max was putting on the wall. "I didn't know you became a counselor."

Max shrugged. "When your dad is the owner of the camp, it's almost impossible to not have some sort of job there."

Preston set his suitcase next to the window. Max moved on to tacking up another thing, a picture this time. Max had set it in his duffel without a thought, but putting it up, he came to regret it.

It was a selfie of him and Preston kissing.

Not the weird kissing, like they were making out in front of the camera, but a peck. Max had a deep red blush, but Preston was smiling. One hand was under his chin, like it wasn't planned.

And to be honest, it wasn't.

"You kept that?" He jumped, whirling around, having not noticed Preston behind him.

He looked down, ears red. "Yeah. Even if I didn't keep the picture, how could I forget my first kiss?"

Both boys were silent.

Max wasn't sure what would happen if he ever met Preston again. What could he say to the boy who broke his heart? That he was angry, that he waited summer after summer just to see him again, that he would have a staring contest with David's phone, waiting, praying for a call that would never come? He almost laughed.

Preston was the first to speak up. He sat across from Max, pulling out the chair from his desk. "So now what?"

Max didn't know what to say to that.