Max didn't sleep well that night.

He had fractured, scrambled dreams about his parents and the car crash. One moment he could smell the alcohol his mother had dropped on his bedroom floor, the next he could smell David's jacket and the seat of his car.
In one dream, it was his father, not his mother, who beat him. He was taller, stronger, harsher. And then his face twisted and morphed into David's, and in his hands was a guitar, and he lifted it high above his head and brought it smashing down over Max.

Max jerked awake, drenched in cold sweat.

The room was warm from the glowing embers of the fire, and the sky outside was a wash of dark steadily greying blue.

He turned to look at David, who was sleeping peacefully beside him on the sofa. Max shook himself and closed his eyes, but when he found he couldn't get back to sleep, he opened them again and gazed at David.

Max tried to mimic his breathing pattern: deep, slow breaths; in, and out, and in, and out. He let his eyes wander over David's cheeks, began counting his freckles. Unlike his father, David didn't snore. Unlike Max, his hands didn't curl into fists when he slept, but were open and loose. Max looked for a long time at David's bound wrist. He couldn't help but feel responsible.

As annoying as they were, he felt safe with David and Steven. Slowly, Max's eyelids slid closed and before he knew it he was slipping into unconsciousness again. He breathed out heavily and moved closer to David, who grunted something that sounded like "pine" and put an arm around Max's little body.

-

When Max woke up, David wasn't there.

He sat up quickly and rubbed his eyes, staring around. Early morning light was streaming in through the windows. The fire was cold.

"Good morning," Steven sang, coming down the stairs from his own bed above them.

Max grunted.

His heart lifted when he saw David coming in from the kitchen with a glass of water.

"Good morning, Max!" He said in his usually uber-positive tone of voice. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be feeling much less shitty once I've had a black coffee."

"Language," David said, but it wasn't stern.

"You drink coffee?" Steven gasped.

"Uh, yah," Max said, getting up off the sofa and picking up his crutches. "And I'll take some breakfast too, if you've got any."

-

After they had all had something to eat, Steven decided to take Max on a tour of Beach City. Max agreed only when David offered an alternative of practicing their duet.

David stayed by the beach and played in the sea.

"Why so blue, Max?" Steven asked as he strolled along the promenade, Max hobbling beside him.

"Why so blue?" Max repeated, disgusted. "I'm blue, Steven, because my parents hate me and I nearly died in a car crash. Why are you so bloody happy?"

Steven was quiet and for a moment Max felt guilty, then Steven said,

"Well to be honest I'm not quite sure. Everyone expects so much of me, I've got this massive responsibility to live up to my mum when I never even met her. And half the gem world hates me for something my mum did, and they're willing to kill me and the people I care about. But I try to stay positive; I've still got Dad. And the gems, and my other friends. It could be worse. I suppose... I've seen so many awful things and I've made so many mistakes that I've learnt to savour every moment I'm still here. I need to be grateful for what I've got, because I don't know if it'll be safe forever."

Max didn't reply. He now felt decidedly awful.

"Maybe you get what I mean more so after the car crash?" Steven asked, looking searchingly at Max.

Max glanced up.

"Huh? Oh. Well. Yeah, I guess so."

Another pause.

"I'm sorry Steven," Max muttered. "I really am. What I said... it was shitty. I'm the miserable one, I shouldn't be telling you off for actually being happy."

"It's okay Max," Steven said. "You've had it rough just like me."

He smiled at Max, and Max smiled back.