Chapter Text
Bell, or more Maksim or Max, was sitting on the carpet in the living room, his blank eyes staring at the toy cars in front of him. He occasionally pushed them back and forth, or he looked up at Russel.
He had told him one of his friends was coming today, with his son. His real son, not like Bell. No, he was just here because the government said so, not because Russell wanted him here; he wasn't his real son.
He knew he caused problems like one though, with his refusal to be called Maksim or Max, his real name. He went back to his cars, rolling them back and forth with a frown on his face.
"Max?"
Russel called out; Bell didn't react, refused to.
"Maksim?"
He stepped closer, kneeling down to Bell. He sighed.
"Buddy, we talked about this. Bell isn't your real name. You can't recover from what those bad men did to you until you can accept that."
Russel stroked his back gently as he said it; Bell didn't want to hear any of it. He'd heard it a million times over already, from the men and women with their clipboards and notes, from the teachers at his school and from him, over and over again.
But he didn't have time to dwell on it. He heard a car come into the driveway, that distinct sound of crunching gravel faint from outside. But it seemed like Russel heard it too, because he stood up again, leaving Bell to his cars as he went to answer the door that was now ringing loudly, making Bell whimper in discomfort.
"And where's this kid you've been talking about Adler?"
He heard an unfamiliar voice say, from the entrance, accompanied by shuffling and Russel's voice saying.
"He's in the living room, but try and be less.. Loud."
And then suddenly there's a blur of a blue sweater and blonde hair in his field of vision, before he's toppled by someone around his size, bit taller, bit heavier. But still a kid around his age.