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"Was this the best thing you've ever eaten?" Max asked, leaning back on his chair with one hand on his stomach and a sheen of greasiness on his lips.

Collin leaned over the small, round table to wipe Max's mouth with a napkin.

"No," he answered.

Bacon and eggs were a great combination, always a fun breakfast, but it was hardly the best thing he'd put into his mouth. It didn't even compare to a good bowl of chicken tikka masala. Now that was a rich flavour with just the right amount of spice and that creamy sauce so smooth that it melted in your mouth…

He swallowed, realizing he'd started salivating.

"What?!" Max exclaimed, as if offended by the quick, flat 'no' he'd received in response.

"What?" Collin repeated. "I'm not saying it's bad, but there are better things to eat."

Max shook his head in clear disapproval.

"I want to eat this every day," he declared, pointing at the now empty paper bag.

"That may be unhealthy."

"Why?"

"Well, it's processed meat that's high in saturated fats and cholesterol, and then there are the nitro—" Collin paused mid-word.

Those big, brown eyes stared at him blankly with zero interest in this information. But was that really surprising? Those terms likely meant nothing to a man who couldn't even remember his own name. Never mind, if he'd ever learned about proper nutrition.

Collin waved his hand dismissively. "You know what? Not important. Just remember that if you want to be healthy and live long, you shouldn't eat it every day."

"I don't care about that." Max shrugged. "I just want to eat."

"Fair enough."

Collin crumpled the empty bags and stood up. "Let's go back home."

—

"How's your leg ?" Collin asked, unlocking the door to his apartment and letting Max in first.

"I guess it hurts," Max answered. "But I'm fine."

He smiled as if that settled the matter. But it didn't. That gash was long and ugly, and it could need stitches. The problem was… Collin didn't want to take Max to the doctor. Not with those ears and the tail. No medical professional would keep their mouth shut about it. They'd want to poke him and study him and claim him as their discovery. Without a doubt it'd bring world-wide attention and Max would never get to live a normal life.

"I'll put these clothes away," Collin said. "And then we'll take a look at it, okay?"

"Okay."

Lost in thought, Collin stood in front of his dresser. How long was Max going to stay here? Did he need to make space for all these new belongings in his own closet? He didn't want to financially support a stranger but… He couldn't kick him out onto the cold streets. Not like this. Max wasn't a regular human, and he didn't fully understand how to blend in.

Yes. This was what he would do—he'd help this man adjust and learn to live among them, and then… Then they'd figure the rest out.

He emptied the first drawer of his dresser. On the right, he folded the trousers. In the middle, the t-shirts. As he was placing the last hoodie inside, he straightened up, brows knitted together.

Beeping?

He listened in. Definitely beeping. And some mechanical hum.

With a smooth push, he slid the drawer shut and followed the sound to the kitchen.

"Oh my god, what are you doing?" he snapped.

Max stood in front of the oven. Somehow he managed to switch it on, and held the door open. His hand hovered inside.

"It's getting warm," Max commented, fascinated by the appliance.

"Get your hand out of the oven," Collin said, his tone sharp enough that Max's ears drooped. He grabbed Max's wrist and yanked it away. "And never switch it on when I'm not around."

"But—" Max started, but Collin cut him in:

"No buts."

“Alright." Max sulked for all of five seconds, before his attention turned to the microwave. "What's that?" he asked, pressing the biggest button.

The door popped open with a loud thunk and Max jumped away with a yelp.

"That's a microwave," Collin replied, closing the door back up. "Heats up food."

For a moment, Max examined the microwave through slitted eyes, then moved on to the air fryer. As he was about to touch its button too, Collin grabbed his wrist before he could.

"An air fryer," he explained. "It gets hot, too."

Max glanced at him, before pointing to the waffle maker.

"Don't play with this one either," Collin said.

"Gets hot?"

"Yes."

Confused, Max tilted his head. "Why do you need so many things just to heat food?" he asked.

Collin pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know what?" he asked. "Let's just leave the kitchen."

He grabbed Max by the arm and dragged him to the living room, nudging him toward the couch. "Sit. I'll grab my first aid kit and we'll bandage this leg again."

When Collin returned a minute later, the kit in hand, he was pleased to see Max still on the couch. Then he stepped around it and saw the pants were gone.

At least the underwear stayed on.

He cleared his throat and sat on the floor in front of him.

He knew he was the only one who felt awkward about it. But it was stupid! He shouldn't feel any type of way—Max had to take his sweatpants off so they could take care of that long cut. There was no other way to comfortably access it.

"Put your leg on the table here," he instructed, tapping the round wooden surface.

Max did just that.

Although it wasn't bleeding, nor was it so deep he could see the bone, it was far from a superficial cut. He exhaled with his whole chest. Stitches could be necessary.

He soaked a piece of gauze with antiseptic, but as soon as he pressed it to the wound, Max hissed. Undeterred, he wiped further.

"No, no, no," Max whined, his sock sliding against the coffee table and away from the gauze. "Hurts more than I remember."

"I'll be quick," Collin promised, scooting closer, but the leg kept retreating until it slipped off the edge of the table entirely, thudding onto the floor.

Before he could react, Max stood up, smacking him on the side of the head with his bulge.

"Oh god," Collin groaned, leaning over the table so far, he practically laid on it. Shielding his eyes from the crotch area, he looked up at Max. "Please. If you sit down and let me finish, I'll give you a treat."

Max hesitated, shifting on his feet, but the new-found love for food seemed to be stronger. He sat back down and plopped his foot on the coffee table. He precelled his hands on his chest with a scowl.

The leg twitched as Collin continued working, but it stayed put. He cleaned it up quickly, before wrapping it in a fresh gauze and a tight bandage. There was barely enough, and he knew a visit to a pharmacy was in order. Very soon. If not today, then tomorrow.

"All done," he announced, standing up. "Was it really so bad?"

"Yes," Max huffed.

"But you did earn a treat," Collin reminded him.

And with those words, Max's face brightened up and he jumped to his feet first to sprint to the kitchen.

Collin sighed. This could be a long adjustment.

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