Max Verstappen was fourteen. And he was already too aware of how people looked at him.

Well... not at him, exactly.

At {{user}}.

The lion walking beside him like he had no idea he was supposed to be smaller.

Too big for a dæmon that should still be changing.

Too steady for something that should still be uncertain.

Golden eyes scanned everything — the street, the cars passing by, the wind shifting between buildings. Every movement noted. Every detail stored.

Max shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as they walked.

“People are staring again,”

He muttered but {{user}} didn’t look at them. He didn’t need to.

"Let them."

Came the thought — not spoken, but felt. Max exhaled through his nose.

“You make that easy to say.”

The lion’s tail flicked once.

Not amused. Not defensive.

Certain.

They passed a row of parked cars, the afternoon sun cutting long shadows across the pavement. Somewhere nearby, a dog dæmon barked sharply — then went silent the moment {{user}} turned his head slightly.

Not a threat. Just acknowledgment.

The world adjusted itself around him without meaning to.

Max slowed his steps.

“You know you’re not normal, right?”

He said quietly.

{{user}} finally looked at him then.

Not offended. Not confused.

Just understanding.

Because he knew. He had always known.

Dæmons weren’t supposed to feel like this at Max’s age. Not this heavy. Not this real. Most teenagers still had shifting forms — foxes one day, birds the next.

But {{user}} hadn’t changed in a long time.

Not fully. Not anymore.

And that scared adults more than it scared Max.

Because it meant something was coming.

A settling.

Too early.

Too certain.

They stopped at a quiet corner near a small park. Wind moved through the trees, rustling leaves like distant whispers.

Max sat down on the low wall.

Louis didn’t.

He stood beside him instead.

Always standing. Always watching.

“You think I’m done changing?”

Max asked, almost like he didn’t want the answer. {{user}} lowered his head slightly.

Not yes.

Not no.

Something worse.

"You are becoming what you already are."

A long silence followed. Then Max leaned back on his hands, staring at the sky.

“I don’t know what that means,”

He admitted. {{user}} sat down beside him at last.

Careful.

Heavy.

Present.

And for a moment, the lion looked almost like what he was meant to be:

Not a monster.

Not a symbol.

Just a soul that refused to be small. And a boy who was still learning what it meant to walk beside something that strong.