The Hunter Household.

Early morning.

Or rather, late enough at night that it qualified to be morning.

Max, Ken and Luke were already a few games in and were already starting to think of sleeping.

Rose and Tiffany were of similar thoughts.

However, just before all this, the boy by the name of Maximillian Hunter found himself in the bathroom.

He'd wanted a bathroom break after so much gaming.

But, right there and then, being alone in the bathroom, a tear, almost without warning, fell down his face from his right eye.

And, later, yet another from his left eye.

And before he knew it, he was keeping his mouth shut so as not to make a sound.

Pain.

And so much of it.

Guilt.

And even more.

Did he derserve these friends?

He turned the tap on and poured some water out with which to wash his face.

"Tears, huh?" he thought.

Not a sound and not a word.

There was no way in this world he would let them hear him cry.

But the waterworks did not stop.

Tear after tear after tear.

At that point, his teeth gritted even harder, his fists clenched even tighter, and his mouth held itself back even harder.

Max: (thinking: No! I'm not gonna cry. I'm not gonna cry!)

It was an epic battle, the boy and his own emotions.

Max: (thinking: No way. I'm gonna keep it... together.)

And so he clenched his lips stuck, but his eyes instead, as though to compensate for this, let out even more tears.

His breathing became laboured.

Even that would be a giveaway.

And so, he started to pace his breathing.

Bit by bit, he forced himself to calm down.

He looked himself in the mirror.

His eyes were reddening.

Max: (thinking: I'm gonna... I'm gonna keep it together!)

He gritted his teeth.

Tears flew out even more.

Tears full of guilt, tears begging for friends, and then, tears doing both.

Why?

All of a sudden he found himself regretting inviting them over.

Then, none of this would've have happened.

Then, he wouldn't be feeling this way.

Then, they wouldn't have heard what his mother had said.

Did he blame his mother?

His mind was simply to overcome by grief to even relate the two, even though, realistically, it would make sense to blame her.

But, no.

He would not, or rather could not, for his own mind was too tied up in feelings of guilt and pain.

What could he do?

The boy by the name of Maximillian Hunter, a boy willing to put his well being, social life and now even life on the line for others.

And, here he was, holding back tears like a child that had just lost his toy.

The irony was not lost on him.

Why was he crying?

He knew why.

But... he'd always thought he was tough enough to take it.

And now... now that he was there... all alone...

... he was crying.

There was no mistaking it.

The mirror was right there.

He could see himself.

Right there...

There was simply no mistaking it.

And there and then, as he would also say, he saw himself.

And with that image was he truly disgusted.

As if seeing himself cry didnt bother him enough.

He himself also disgusted himself.

Not because he was crying, and not because he looked terrible, but rather... because he knew his mind had already made itself up.

That, all on its own, was the truly horrible thing that disgusted him.

How could he?

The guilt in his heart swallowed him up again.

Yet more tears fell from his eyes.

Did he deserve such friends?

He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to bang a door.

What did he do to deserve this scenario?

Honestly, what did he do?

In an almost comical sense, he'd then begun to question as to why things just had to be that way?

Could he go back in time like a super hero like bright light?

Nope.

His species couldn't, not that he hadn't attempted it.

He knew this was it.

How he left this bathroom would define what would happen in the rest of his life.

He knew this well.

And, under no circumstances would this teenage boy allow himself to show up around the rest of them in tears.

No way in this world!

No way!

He fought back with the pain once more.

Max: (thinking: No way! No way! No way!)

He gripped the sink and faucet.

The floor looked mighty nice as a place to settle down and sob, but he knew full well were that would end.

The problem being, that he knew he'd need to get back there soon.

And so, he held on, painfully, until he could finally calm his mind down.

And eventually, it did.

Bit by bit, moment after moment, his mind begun to calm down.

It was a slippery slope.

Each laboured and forced breath became easier, all the while also threatening to become worse.

But... eventually, his body, mind and soul all came together.

He instinctively checked his mind.

How long had he been there?

He had no idea.

Perhaps 5 minutes.

The reason for this thought being that he knew his friends would be concerned if he'd spent too much time in the bathroom.

But.. that was ok.

He made up his mind to check out the clock before anything else once he'd gotten out, and then come up with a lie all on his own.

It wouldn't be hard, would it?

He looked at the mirror once more.

This time, he washed his face with water, over and over before drying it with a paper towel.

He then looked at his face once more.

Still somewhat sad.

He brightened his face up.

The previously tearful look was then almost completely gone, albeit still noticeable.

He had never once in his life cared for his mothers make up antics, but at that point, he'd begun to wish he'd at the very least learned something.

His eyes fell onto his mothers various make-up and skin care lotions.

If only he knew what they did...

Then maybe he could....

No.

He'd just have to rough it.

The hard way.

His face against theirs.

Just how would he do it?

His eyes fell onto his reflection once more.

Max: (thinking: Well... I dunno.)

Every little showing of sadness in his eyes loudly yelled at him, haunting him.

They would notice, wouldn't they?

A sigh escaped his mouth, and for a moment, he simply stood there, his eyes focused on the sink.

He just stood there, waiting.

For what, he didn't know...

With what, he didn't know...

Until when, well... at that point, he had to stop.

If he stayed their too long, they might start to become suspicious about his absence.

He took another breath. This time a big one.

His eyes fell on his reflection.

He took a bigger breath.

He'd just say that he'd washed his face a bit, right?

That would work, right?

He took another big breath and exhaled right on his reflection.

A bit of vapour condensed on the mirror, and he simply watched it, waiting for the vapour to disappear.

Perhaps he would have drawn something.

In fact, he considered doing it, but... what would he draw?

It didn't feel right.

And with that, he took one more breath.

He wasn't going to enjoy this, and any conversation about his face he would have to come up with an excuse for.

He would look at the clock as well so as to ensure that he had a proper lie for when he did come out, making sure to base the lie on the amount of time he'd spent there.

His hand stretched to grab at the door handle.

He did not want to do this.

That was a fact.

He sighed once more.

But.... he had to.

That was also a fact.

And so, with that... he walked out of the door.