My Feral

10

Author's Note: I'm back with an update! And I am so sorry that I didn't update for so long. Things just got away from me. But, I will try my hardest, and when time allows it, to update more frequently. Thank you all for your continued leaving of kudos, comments, and patience. You all rock, and the continued support makes this whole writing thing so much easier!

-Priestly

 Back in his car, Max slumps in the driver's seat, running his tongue over his teeth.

The sugar and flaky dough ghosting over his tongue reminds him of being younger, when his damned knee still worked....and him and Nux were in love.

Sitting back up, he starts his Volvo and briefly wonders about going back to his small and lonely home, but opts for finishing his errands before passing out for a few hours.

Max sat on the small bank overlooking the lake, though instead of admiring the scenery, he was look at Nux, who was curled up with knees to chest, shaking.

Reaching out a hand, Max laid it on Nux's shoulder.

"What is it, my feral?" Max asked gently, giving the other boys shoulder a squeeze.

"Joe....that bastard smeg, he "taught" Slit and I to swim by nearly drowning us," Nux ground out between ground teeth as he started to rock back and forth.

Max feels more anger bloom in his chest for Nux and Slit's dead father then, almost enough anger to bring the old man back and kill him with his own two hands.

"Oh. Damn, I'm sorry," Max said, "I didn't know."

"At this point," Nux replied, "I've got so many triggers even I don't know what all of them are. So, I can't expect you to know what they all are, either."

Nodding, more in resignation than agreement, Max stood up and gently pulled Nux up to stand beside him.

"Let's go get some cheeseburgers," Max said, and let out a sigh of relief when Nux melted into his arms, allowing Max to lead him back to the car.

"Max!" comes the small voice again, accompanied by a tap on the car window.

Startled out of the flashback, Max almost stomps down on the gas and rams his Volvo into the wall of the bakery.

Rubbing his eyes, Max looks over at the eight year old tapping on his window with a finger on her prosthetic hand.

Rolling down the window, Max greets the young girl as cheerfully as he can.

"Hey, Furi."

Furi smiles back at him, except hers is a real beaming smile that makes his own stretch into something more genuine.

"Papa sent me out to give this to you. He said that you looked like you were dead on your feet and could use some more caffeine," she says, handing him a can of Coke.

"Tell Slit I said thanks," Max says, waving to Furi as she runs back into the bakery.

Sighing, he cracks open the Coke and pulls out of the parking lot.