Maximus, as he eventually went back to calling himself, sat on the ill-fitting chair, tapping his knees and keeping one ear open in case something interesting came on the radio. He knew Jeff was somewhere upstairs. Whatever he was doing was none of Max's business, though he would have guessed that he was just looking out the window through the blinds. He got paranoid like that sometimes. It was nothing too bad, though with "the Elder's future army" you could never be sure enough about when trouble would come around. Max understood. He looked to the wall on his right.

39, was it? I forgot to add one yesterday.

He dipped one of his fingers into a nearby jar of black paint and drew two more tally marks next to the already growing number. Soon it would be time to leave. He felt sobered by the realization; he was just starting to grow fond of this house. It had two floors, a kitchen, wide front hall and everything. Plus, the person who used to live there had been something of a doomsday survivalist, so the place was packed with all the essentials. Jeff had muttered something about a "fascist" and tore down a flag hung on the wall with a strange symbol on it. They burned it later that night to keep warm.

Max was snapped out of his thoughts by a distortion in the radio signal. Before he could grow too worried by it, a good waltz came on. For once. Cliché? Maybe. A classic? Absolutely. He tried sneaking a peek at the station's number, but all that came up on the tiny screen was a message that read, "You're welcome." He chuckled.

Well, thank you.

"Hey, Jeff," he called.

After a few seconds, he heard a muffled "Yeah?" from the second floor.

Max turned up the radio's volume by a couple notches. "I think you owe me a dance."

Jeff paused, then leaned down the staircase with a confused yet exasperated look on his face. "Wait, isn't this the one everyone knows? It's...uh...god, I can't remember the name."

"'Waltz of the Flowers'? Yeah, it is. Come on, nobody's looking this time. It'll just be us."

Jeff scoffed and made his way down to Max, who actually wasn't wearing that torn-up dress shirt of his. He'd donned something a lot more casual, a t-shirt and a loose denim jacket that he never really got around to buttoning. Blue had always been his color, anyways. He smiled and took Jeff's hands in his own. The other man raised an eyebrow. The scars near the corners of his mouth were fading from their usual crimson red; he hadn't cut himself for years now.

"How many of these things did they teach you about when you were a kid?"

"Enough," Max answered vaguely. He didn't like to think of the Elder or his siblings much anymore. It hurt him in an odd way. "Enough so that I can do this," he said, catching him in a dip with a self-assured look, "when the time is right."

Jeff glared up at him, breaths shallowing. "You really just like scaring me, don't you?"

"Yeah. It's funny." He tilted his head and brought both of them back to stand. "Aw, come on, you know I still love you."

"Sap," Jeff teased, leaning in and kissing him before he could say anything else. Not that there was much to say after that, anyway. They stayed there for some time, savoring each other's familiarity in this stranger of a house. Eventually, Max broke it apart and said, "Now, are we actually going to dance, or what?"

The two walked to the front hall, still in one another's arms, and carried on with the waltz as best they could. There were a couple of trips. Many mistakes. But that's why it felt so perfect, to both of them. They laughed and hugged in the middle of it all, relieved that they could at least do this without the threat of life or death. Last year was far behind them.

The mask still lay, worn from the years, on a chair nearby. It had lost its bright blue and shifted to a more muted periwinkle color. Max carried it with him everywhere he went, always telling himself that one day, he would put it back on.

He hasn't since.

One, two, three.

One, two, three.