Max was in his usual spot at Olympus gym - shirtless, in front of the mirror, flexing and unflexing his muscles.

“Two fucking months.” he said to himself. He'd never spent so much time apart from his best friend before. The only other time something like this happened was during a four-day high school trip that Max couldn't attend because of a ‘mysterious’ cold that he unexpectedly caught. Only Connor and Kyle knew why he didn't go, and it had something to do with an empty house and a horny girlfriend. 

“Are you a pageant queen?” A voice from behind him said. “You spend more time in front of the mirror than in the boxing ring.” Max turned around to see Aaron, his father, grinning at him. “Stop staring at yourself and get your morning workout done.”

Max rolled his eyes. "Don't you want grandchildren, Dad?" he asked. “I need to look good for my lady.”

Aaron chuckled. "You don't have a lady, Max.”

“Besides, you don't need to be good looking to meet a nice girl. You just need to be an honest, and respectful man. I raised you right, you will do just fine.”

Max blinked. “So you’re basically saying’ in ugly.”

Aaron laughed, tapping Max on the shoulder. "You are handsome almost as I was your age." 

“You wish! You got lucky with mom, God knows how. Remember how your friends used to call you when you were young? The Beauty and the Beast, was it?” Max cracked a smile.

Aaron arched his brows and shrugged. “What can I say? I guess I'm just THAT charming.” he smirked, pointing to the ring, “Go, now.”

“Ok, ok, Jees.” Max replied.

Max turned and leaped on the mattresses spread on the floor, positioning himself in front of the punching bag suspended from the ceiling.

“Call me when you’re done,” Aaron said as he walked out of the main hall into his side office on the far right of the gym. “We need to talk." Max nodded.

Punch after punch, Max smashed the massive punching bag. Left fist, right fist, left fist, right fist. The punching bag swung frantically from side to side, the metal chains swaying with each movement he made. Sweat dripped down his torso, glistening on his tanned skin. 

He loves this. The tinge of pain he feels in his back, his hands, his legs. With each movement, he relishes the sensation of his muscles tightening and aching. Jab, kick, jab, block. It's as if he's dancing. He’s good at it. He can feel his body relax, releasing all of the tension buried deep within his guts. He was always a hyperactive child, too energetic and restless until he discovered boxing. It helped him unwind and clear his mind.

He stepped away from the ring and moved toward the mirror, grabbing a towel from the old plastic table nearby, and wiping his chest while flexing his arm muscles. “Dad!” he yelled.

“You're a lost cause, boy.” Aaron said as he walked in.

“Handsome guys like me don't need a cause, Dad.” He responded, smiling.

Aaron shook his head at him. “Before you leave, don't forget to be early tomorrow; we have a meeting with those investors the next day and I want this place spotless.” 

"Investors," Max remarked, his fingers mimicking quotation marks; before grabbing his water bottle and downing it all in one gulp. Aaron let out a sigh. “Call them whatever you want; they're coming, and there's nothing we can do about it, so don't be late.”

Max grumbled.

“And,” Aaron continued, oblivious to Max's displeasure, “Connor’s coming back tomorrow. He'll be here at 8:00 a.m. to help you with the cleanup. I don't think I need to tell you to be kind and hospitable. He’s been through a lot, these past two months, so please, be on your best behaviour, got it?”

Max’s eyes flickered. He said, with a big grin on his face,

“Oh, don't you worry about that.”