It's quiet except for the leaves. The leaves are loud, rustling against each other, the wind blowing through them.

And also because Max is pulling the branches of his neighbour's lemon tree down from above his neighbours brick wall, shaking them with one hand.

"You should get out of the sun," Klay snorts, "Into the shade. That way my neighbours won't see you commiting a felony."

Max gasps, letting go of the branch abruptly. It's a series of things from there: the branch bouncing back up against the force of Max letting go, Max standing up straight, and subsequently the lemons Max was hoarding in his shirt—pulled to create a bowl to lay the lemons he had already grabbed— spilling out from the sides.

"It's not a felony," Max hisses. He leans down to grab the lemons he dropped and the rest of the lemons scattered around the pavement that had fallen with his shaking. "It's called creating community. Love thy neighbour and all of that. They would be happy that I'm taking some lemons out of their hands considering how much they have in abundance."

Klay opens his mouth, but Max goes on, "And maybe if you helped me instead of just standing there."

"That's called aiding and abetting," Klay laughs, but he leans down to pick up some more lemons from the sidewalk, shaking his head while doing so.

Max is usually such a.... rule follower. Klay didn't think Max would ever be the type to grab his neighbours' fruits from their tree without asking. It was honestly hilarious, somehow made Klay's heart swell that there were so many facets of Max that he didn't know as well as he thought he did.

"Stuff some in your pockets too," Max commands.

"Alright Martha Stewart," Klay mutters. He stuffs three lemons in each of his shorts pockets and tries not to huff at how ridiculous he looks. Not more ridiculous than Max, who has resorted to stuffing lemons under his armpits. "What are you even going to do with all of this."

"I don't know. We can put it in our water. Bring some to your mom and dad."

Klay feels a tingling at the edge of his fingers like this, the same tingling in his fingers that he gets when he lets himself have a beat and realises this is his life, can't believe it's his life. Max making a home in it, with all the people he loves. He wiggles them against the skin of the lemons he's holding, warms it up like it'll help the feeling in his chest.

"Okay, and I'll tell them all the crimes you committed to get it for them," Klay grins.

Max rolls his eyes, "Shut up!" He stalks past Klay back to Klay's house, comically curling into himself to save the ones he has in his shirt. "And to think I was going to put on that stupid, frilly apron you loved and bake you something with these lemons...."