Before Collin left for work that morning, he wrote a note for Max. 'I'm working at the office today. I'll be back at 5 with dinner,' it said. He stuck it to the foil covering a sizable breakfast (with bread, cheese, some meat, and eggs, in hopes that a good amount of protein would satiate Max for a while) along with a few snacks to get him through the rest of the day. And although it should have been enough to last till dinner, he still finished up his work quickly and rushed to the Chinese restaurant that was on his way home.

Now, with his order dangling from his arm in a plastic bag, he climbed the staircase, leaving wet footprints behind. The snow wasn't budging, and neither was the cold.

He stomped on the welcome mat, white clumps falling off his shoes, then unlocked the door and swung it open.

"Max! I'm ho—"

He stopped mid-word when he noticed the disarray.

The pillows from his couch were scattered about, and one of his plants lay on the floor. Its soil spilled out onto the carpet and trailed EVERYWHERE. All throughout the living room, on his couch and armchair, and leading into the kitchen. He could even spot a small trail to the bathroom. But that one was different. It wasn't just the rich brown of potting soil. Small red droplets were mixed in, growing larger the closer they got to the bathroom, smaller toward the couch.

Following them back into the living room, he noticed the likely culprit. A once yellow vase with white orchids painted on it was now in pieces, and its edge glistened with what he could only assume was blood.

It had been a gift from his mother. She'd brought it to his apartment to liven it up, as she'd said, bring some happy color. He never particularly liked it, because it was giving… grandma. But he'd still put it out. He'd never hear the end of it if he didn't. Over time, he'd gotten used to it. Now he wasn't sure whether he felt relieved it was gone or upset. Ugly or not, it had been a gift from his mother. Every time he looked at it, he thought of her. She might have been a bit much sometimes, but she was his mom, and the vase had made him feel just a little more at home.

Among this mess, one thing was missing: Max. He was nowhere to be seen.

After setting the takeout on the table, Collin peered into the kitchen. If it weren't for one small detail, it would have seemed untouched. Alas, that one detail was a white polystyrene tray with a torn foil thrown onto the floor. But the chicken breast, a raw chicken breast, that was supposed to be inside, was now missing, too.

"Max?" he called out.

No response.

The wooden floor creaked under his shoes as he walked further into the silent apartment. He pushed the bedroom door open. The duvet was bundled up on the bed, forming a mountain a little too big for it to be just the fabric.

Collin pressed his hand against it. There was something firm beneath it. Grabbing the material, he flung it off.

Max lay on the mattress in his new t-shirt and sweatpants, staring up at him like a kid who was trying to hide that he'd done something wrong while being far too obvious about it. The sheets were stained with now brownish smears of drying blood. Yet another set to wash.

"Hey," he said with a guilty smile. He sat up, his dog ears flattened, tail tucked between his thighs. "Didn't hear you come in."

Collin crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes saying one thing—a tired 'seriously?'.

"What happened?" he asked.

Max averted his eyes, looking at everything but him. "Well…"

"Did you eat the raw chicken?" Collin asked. "Max, you can't eat raw meat—"

The tirade he was about to launch into came to halt. Could Max eat raw meat? Humans shouldn't eat raw chicken, but was Max even human? His body didn't seem to function the same way. Judging by the injury on his leg, he did heal faster. That thing was already closing up. Max seemed to be some shape shifter, so maybe he could technically stomach it. Still, Collin didn't want to risk it.

"I was hungry," Max whined. "And it smelled so good."

Collin pinched the bridge of his nose. "And the living room? What happened there?"

"I don't know," Max said. "I was bored, and… it just happened."

Collin spun on his heel and marched into the kitchen. He snatched the tray off the floor and tossed it into the bin. Max scooted next to him, Collin's shoulder pressed in between those meaty man breasts.

"Are you mad?" Max asked. The sad, but wondering, head tilt followed.

"Nope," came a little too quickly.

Max wrapped his hand around Collin, squeezing him so hard, he felt like his ribs were about to snap. "I'm sorry," Max murmured.

Collin rubbed the other's forearm. Somehow, the comforting warmth made his anger with this mess slowly melt away.

"It's okay," he replied finally. "Let's just bandage you up, again, and eat before we clean this mess."

"Wasn't this the best thing you've ever eaten?" Max asked, the plate in front of him wiped clean, not a crumb left behind. Almost like he hadn't ravaged a full chicken breast not too long ago.

"You've said that about bacon," Collin reminded him, getting up from the table to put the plates and the cutlery into the dishwasher.

"I could eat them both TOGETHER every day," Max declared.

"Okay," Collin dismissed. Somehow, he felt that would become a recurring theme. Max hadn't disliked any food yet.

He waved him toward the living room. The mess left behind after Hurricane Max swept through needed to be cleaned up.

"Get the plant." He pointed to the fallen over snake plant. "And be careful. It IS a living being."

Max crouched in front of it and propped it back up. "Does it have a name?" he asked.

The small space between Collin's brows creased. "No."

"I'm going to call it Lanky," Max decided, scooping soil off the carpet and tossing it back into the pot. "Because it's lanky."

"Wow," Collin let out. "Okay."

Was his snake plant long and sparse? Perhaps. But he had tried everything to turn it into this lush, strong plant he envisioned. More sunlight. Less sunlight. Fertilizer. It just… didn't want to cooperate.

Max patted the soil and smiled at the plant. "There. Lanky's happy."

"If it were happy, it'd grow better," Collin grumbled.

Collin picked up the largest piece left of his vase. Its bottom was almost entirely intact. He grabbed another shard, examining it carefully. Jagged edges glistened as he turned it in his hand, sharp but not bloody. At least not this one. He set it into the broken base.

He glanced up when a looming figure cast a shadow over him. Max stared down at him, and even though he didn't utter a word, he was visibly wondering what Collin was doing.

"My mom gave it to me," Collin explained. "Thought it was ugly, but…"

With all the remnants of his yellow vase in hand, he backed into the kitchen. For a short moment, he hesitated, hand hovering over the bin, before he finally thew it all away.

"Should we go buy a new one?" Max asked from behind him.

"No, it's okay," Collin answered. "I'm just gonna vacuum, and you should take a shower."

After playing in the soil, Max was filthy. His feet and hands were now dark with dirt, but Collin did spot a few smudges on his forearms, too.