Jaxon sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as his dad drove through the neighborhood. The houses here were massive, the kind of homes with big gates and driveways that seemed to stretch forever.
“We’re almost there,” his dad said, glancing over. “I think you’ll like them. Nice family, very welcoming. Their son’s about your age. Could be good for you to make a friend.”
Jaxon just nodded, already tuning him out. His dad was always trying to set him up with “friends” like this. It usually didn’t end well.
When they pulled up in front of the house, Jaxon sighed. It was even bigger than it looked in the photos his dad had shown him earlier. The front door opened before they even made it up the steps, and a friendly-looking woman and a tall man in a suit came out to greet them.
“Welcome!” the woman said warmly, shaking Jaxon’s dad’s hand before turning to him. “And you must be Jaxon. We’re so glad you came. We think you’d get along wonderfully with our son.”
Jaxon forced a polite smile, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
The man called into the house. “Wellis! Come on down, son!”
Jaxon froze.
The name hit him like a truck.
There was no way.
But then footsteps echoed from the staircase inside, and Jaxon felt his stomach drop as Max—Max—walked into view.
Max stopped mid-step, his eyes widening when he saw Jaxon standing there. For a moment, neither of them said anything, both too stunned to react.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Max’s mom said, clapping her hands. “Come say hi.”
Max swallowed hard and plastered on a fake smile, walking down the rest of the stairs like he hadn’t just seen the last person he expected.
“Hey,” Max said casually, holding out a hand like they were strangers.
“Hi,” Jaxon replied, shaking it awkwardly.
The parents beamed. “Perfect! We’ll leave you two to get to know each other,” Jaxon’s dad said. “We’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
As the door closed behind them, silence filled the massive house. Jaxon shifted uncomfortably, already turning toward the door. “I’m just gonna—”
“Wait,” Max said, stepping in front of him. “You can’t just leave. Your dad would freak if he came back and you weren’t here.”
Jaxon sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to be here. Not with Max. Not after everything. But he stayed.
Breaking the Ice
They sat on opposite ends of the couch, the silence stretching for what felt like forever. Jaxon crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the floor.
Finally, Max spoke. “Look, about what happened at school...”
Jaxon glanced at him but didn’t say anything.
“I didn’t mean for it to blow up like that,” Max continued. “Yeah, I said the word ‘obsessed,’ but I also said it wasn’t a big deal. That part just didn’t make it into the video.”
Jaxon snorted softly. “Doesn’t matter. They still heard what they wanted to hear.”
Max rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I mean it. I didn’t think it through, and I know I messed up.”
For a moment, Jaxon didn’t reply. But then he sighed. “Fine. I forgive you. Just... don’t do anything like that again.”
Max nodded, relief washing over him. “Thanks.”
Jaxon shivered slightly, pulling his arms tighter around himself. Max noticed and stood up, walking over to the coat rack. He grabbed his red-and-white basketball jacket and tossed it to Jaxon.
“Here,” Max said. “It’s cold in here.”
Jaxon hesitated before slipping it on. It was way too big, but it was warm, and he wasn’t about to argue.
Moment of Connection
“Wanna see something cool?” Max asked after a few more minutes of silence.
Jaxon shrugged. “Sure.”
Max led him upstairs to his room, which was surprisingly clean for a teenage guy. Max pulled out a small sketchpad and a few photo albums from his desk.
“I mess around with drawing sometimes,” Max said, flipping open the sketchpad. “I’m not great or anything, but...”
Jaxon took the book, flipping through the pages. The sketches were rough but not bad—mostly landscapes and random faces.
“You’re better than you think,” Jaxon said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Max smiled back, feeling something warm settle in his chest.
Jaxon sat on the edge of Max’s bed, glancing around the room. His eyes landed on a small Polaroid camera sitting on Max’s desk. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands.
“You still use this?” Jaxon asked, raising an eyebrow.
Max glanced over and shrugged. “Yeah, sometimes. I like how the pictures come out... all vintage and stuff.”
Jaxon smirked, holding the camera up. “Cool.”
Before Max could react, Jaxon aimed it at him.
“Wait, what are you—”
The flash went off.
Max blinked, the sudden light making him laugh nervously. “Seriously? You’re just gonna take my picture like that?”
Jaxon shook the Polaroid as it slid out of the camera. “Why not? You looked... natural.”
Max groaned, walking over. “Let me see it.”
Jaxon pulled the photo close to his chest, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Nope.”
“Come on, let me see it!” Max lunged for him, but Jaxon dodged, laughing as he slid off the bed.
“Not a chance,” Jaxon teased, backing away toward the door.
Max rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. “Fine. Keep it. I probably look dumb anyway.”
Jaxon glanced at the picture as it developed. It showed Max mid-laugh, his hair slightly messy, the corners of his eyes crinkled with genuine amusement. Jaxon bit his lip, slipping the photo into his pocket. “You don’t.”
Max tilted his head. “What?”
“Nothing,” Jaxon said quickly, sitting back down on the bed.
Max sat next to him, his smile softening as the room went quiet again. “You’re... weird, you know that?”
Jaxon chuckled, leaning back on his elbows. “Takes one to know one.”
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