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Slumping in his seat, Max busies himself by chewing on his pencil and counting the gum stuck to the underside of the desk. Nate was already half an hour too late for their weekly tutoring.
Not that he’s complaining or anything—he hated having to sign up for tutoring in the first place, but his professor has been on his back about it the entire semester and, to be totally honest, his grades have been slipping since the start of college. And, he may be a bit air-headed sometimes, but he’s not about to waste his dad’s hard earned money just because he’s too obsessed with mastering Tony Hawk’s iconic 900.
He’s just about to master the act of balancing a pen on his upper lip instead when sudden coughing to his left scares the shit out of him and he jerks upright, pen dropping to the floor with a loud clang.
“What are you even doing?”
Max looks up. He would recognise that condescending tone anywhere. “What are you doing here?”
Bradley lets out a long suffering sigh and brushes imaginary crumbs off his sweater. “I’m your tutor for the day,” he informs him drily, and only then does Max notice the pile of books tucked neatly under his arm.
He arches a brow in disbelief. “You’re my tutor? What happened to Nate?”
Bradley rolls his eyes and sits down next to Max on the bench. He places all his books on the table and a brief glance at the covers immediately has Max wanting to bolt straight out of the library. Advanced Trigonometry: A Deep Dive into Fourier Analysis and Differential Equations. What exactly is Bradley planning on teaching him today?!
“Apparently, Nate fell sick over the weekend and I was asked to step in,” Bradley explains and makes a face. “He probably thought himself hilarious, pairing me with you.”
Neither of them say anything while Bradley flips through his books and the awkward tension in the air is kind of suffocating, the two of them almost the only ones in the library on a Friday afternoon.
“You know it’s all fine, right?” Max starts tentatively, glancing at Bradley. “PJ, Bobby and I joke about what happened on the regular.”
Bradley stiffens in his seat and stops moving for a moment. Then he scoffs and places the open book on the table in front of them, on a page that Max would rather not take a closer look at. “Only an idiot baby like yourself would say that. College protocol did not deem an attempt at someone’s life fine.”
“Yeah, that was kinda hardcore, man, but—” Max waves a hand in the air and shrugs his shoulders. “It’s all water under the bridge, don’t worry about it.”
Boys are just stupid like that sometimes (Max would know best)—especially if they’re obnoxiously rich frat guys like Bradley. But, nothing actually happened in the end, so, whatever.
“Oh, I’m glad it was such an insignificant experience for you then,” Bradley snips. “Let's get this over with, Goofboy, so we can both go home.”
Max slumps even further into his seat and barely holds back a groan. He wishes he could just melt into the wood of the bench. He already hates trig. The only thing worse would be getting taught trig by an even more stuck-up version of his professor.
“Soooo…” Max gives Bradley a sidelong glance, desperate to distract from the textbooks in front of them. “You tutor. Since when?”
Bradley peers down at him. “I have always been tutoring on the side for community points.”
Wetting his lips, Max lets his eyes roam the other boy. “The glasses are new, too,” he comments, and squints at him. “You look… different.”
For a split second, Bradley seems taken aback, his frown letting up as his eyes widen in genuine surprise. Then he huffs, and his brows go back to being furrowed. “Both of those things are only new to you. I’ve had them for years, I just don’t make a habit of wearing them when I’m not in class.”
“Hmm.”
Not quite ready to take a deep dive into polar coordinates just yet, Max continues to study Bradley instead. Strangely, he hasn’t seen him around campus for months even though they’re doing the same major. “Makes sense…”
The dark frames on Bradley’s nose accentuate the blueness of his eyes and his cheeks have slimmed down considerably since they last met. His hair has grown longer, too, curling around his ears now, and he looks a lot less tan than he used to in the winter. Which is strange, but—whatever.
“Are you trying to grow out your hair?” Max blurts. “It’s gotten pretty long.”
Bradley blinks at him, and then brushes a hand through his bangs and frowns. “That’s just what hair does, Goof. It grows.”
“Since when—”
“Can we focus on your studies now?” Bradley snaps, pushing the book across the table. “I don't have all day.”
“Oh?” Max rises in his seat, suddenly curious. “You got plans for tonight?”
“I don't see how my plans concern you, freshman.”
Without giving Max the chance to reply, Bradley points at the top of the page and orders him to solve the problem to the best of his capabilities. Max takes one look at the equations and feels this close to vomiting.
“Same time on Tuesday?”
Bradley stops gathering the ridiculous amount of books he brought and stares at Max with a frown. “I’m sure Nate would rather not lose out on his free community points by continuing to tutor a hopeless case like yourself.”
Max grins, playing with the balled up papers from his failed attempts. “Yeah, but you made it sound way easier than he did.”
Bradley hesitates, then arches a brow with a huff. “You're a strange one, Baby Goof.” He reaches for his bag and slings it over his shoulder, picking up his books. “See you next week then,” he says. “Don't be late.”
_
They've been having tutoring sessions bi-weekly for almost half a year now and pretty early on Max had to admit that Bradley really is only half as bad to hang with once you get to know him better.
He’s a surprisingly patient teacher, can be quite funny sometimes (even if most of it seems to be unintentional on his part) and he’s seriously amazing at trig (not that Max will ever tell him that, the guy’s ego is big enough as it is).
Bradley is just in the middle of explaining to him why he failed to calculate the height of that one passenger for the millionth time when Max suddenly hears himself ask, “Hey, wanna go hit the rink after this? I could use some time on the board to wind down, not gonna lie.”
Bradley pushes his glasses further up his nose even though they’re, like, way up there already. “No. Now, to understand why you arrived at this conclusion we have to go over the, frankly, offensively grave mistakes in your equation and—”
“Come on, dude, it's been forever since we last skated together,” Max cuts him off, sitting up straighter. “I’ll race you there!”
“I’m not interested, Goof.”
Max deflates a little, frowning at the other boy. Bradley not interested in a competition? Did he hit his head somewhere?
Not one to give up easily, Max leans closer and decides to push it a little more. “How are you gonna keep up your skill, man? This shit requires practice. When I broke my ankle back in middle school, I couldn't skate for five months and I was seriously out of shape by the time I stepped on the board again. All that muscle just—”
He makes an exploding motion with his hands and then stops talking in order to look Bradley up and down. “Or are you scared you’d lose?” He smirks. “You’re skinny as a twig, dude, what happened?”
Bradley doesn’t look at him, hunched over Max’s notes, but judging by the way he’s suddenly gripping onto his pencil it's clear that Max hit some kind of nerve or something.
“I don't see how that is relevant. The only relevant physique right now should be that of the passenger you keep miscalculating,” Bradley replies stiffly, resolutely refusing to meet Max’s eyes.
Just as Max is about to start arguing with him, someone shyly clears their throat next to them. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Max turns in his seat and finds a girl standing there, with bright blue eyes and long blonde curls. “But—aren’t you Bradley Uppercrust III?”
She’s cute. Max can't help but be a little jealous that she only has eyes for Bradley.
“Who wants to know?” Bradley asks, slowly raising his head, and Max frowns at the unbothered drawl in his tone.
Immediately, the girl blushes, lowering her head and tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear before she looks back up with a smile. “My name’s Diana, I’m in your English lit class and I was just wondering if you would ever want to maybe grab a coffee with me or—”
“Thank you, but I'll have to decline.”
Max promptly chokes on his own spit and fights the inevitable coughing fit that follows.
“Oh,” Diana mumbles, cheeks turning even redder. “Oh, okay. Sorry for bothering you two then. I’ll just…”
And then she’s gone, leaving as quickly as she came, and Max immediately swivels around, gaping at Bradley. “Dude, what’s wrong with you? She was clearly trying to ask you out!”
Bradley sneers at him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Trust me, I know that, baby.”
Max’s jaw drops even wider, his brows shooting up. “Then why the hell didn't you give her your number or anything? She was easily one of the cutest girls I’ve seen all week!”
“I wasn’t interested?”
“You should’ve—”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t need your help with dating, freshman,” Bradley snaps before he gets up, gathers his things and exits the library without another word, leaving Max to stare after him in complete bewilderment.
“Whatever, man…” he mumbles to himself.
Apparently, if you’re Bradley fucking Uppercrust III, you can afford be to be an asshole to both girls and your friend.
_
Bradley stares at the broken pieces of his most prized possession, neatly organised in a pile in the corner of his room.
He hates his life. He’s alone and drunk on a Sunday afternoon and he’s been staring at his broken skateboard for hours even though it's been lying there, neatly organised in a pile in the corner of his room, ever since the X-Games almost a year ago.
And it’s not even about the stupid skateboard. He could easily get the wheels and bent axles replaced or just go and buy a new one altogether. Hell, Max would probably even jump at the chance to salvage what is left and custom-make another one from scratch.
But, it’s not about the skateboard. So Bradley just sits and stares. If his father found out he got a replacement for the one he broke right in front of his eyes, he would never hear the end of it.
After taking another sip from his cup, Bradley brushes the heel of his palm across his face. He hates the silence of his apartment. He hates that there's no one around to keep up appearances for.
Setting down his drink, Bradley starts to rummage around in his drawer until he finds the prescription bottle he was looking for, labelled with his name in the elegant cursive of his mother’s private doctor.
Having been expelled from the Gamma Mu Mus and basically getting smacked straight to the bottom of the popularity chain, he’s already big enough of a target just going to his classes, so if these meds are supposed to help by not making him seem crazy on top of it, he’s sure as hell going to take them.
Popping them into his mouth, Bradley washes them down with the rest of his beer and grimaces when they momentarily get stuck at the back of his throat.
And in all of… this, Max is the worst part. Max, who still insists on meeting up every Tuesday and every Friday. Max, who’s practically drooling at the mouth at every girl he lays eyes on. He should hate him. Or, Max should hate him. And yet, the freshman is pretty much the only person Bradley still talks to on the regular.
He scoffs, brushing a hand through his hair before letting himself fall backwards into his bed. What a joke.
If his father knew he was spending time with the guy who got him kicked out from the fraternity his great great grandfather established, he’d throw a whole fit. Nevermind the fact that he actually takes comfort in Max’s presence and, most of the time, even finds himself looking forward to seeing him again.
Shit.
Groaning, he grabs his phone and goes to text the only other person still wanting anything to do with him.
You
Hey
Tank
Bradley?
Tank
What’s up? Something happen?
He never texts Tank first.
You
Are you free right now?
It takes longer for Tank to reply this time and Bradley chews on his bottom lip, finger hovering over the keys while he waits. Just as he’s about to lock his phone and call it a night, it vibrates in his hand.
Tank
Just finishing up the chapter meeting
Tank
Come over?
Bradley scoffs. He’s this close to chucking his phone across the room and ignoring this stupid audacious request when Tank messages him again.
Tank
The others are doing bonfire night
Tank
So it's gonna be just you and me
And suddenly Bradley’s entire chest hurts, aching for what could have been an actual friendship if he hadn’t been so—
Taking a deep breath and gripping the phone tight, he chooses not to be an asshole tonight and makes the conscious decision not to complain about the fact that it’s at least a twenty minute drive to the Gamma frat house and that he’s most definitely too drunk to drive it right now.
You
Omw
He meets Tank in the pool room and accidentally glances at the old billiard table in the middle of it that he spent hours winning games at. It makes his stomach churn uncomfortably so he heads straight for the armchair facing the wall and waits for Tank to follow.
“So, what's up?” Tank sits down on the couch opposite from him.
Decidedly not ready for this yet, Bradley vaguely gestures around the room and answers his question with another one. A childish habit he never quite grew out of. ”...How is everything?”
Tank studies his face for a moment, nursing a glass of wine in his hand. “It’s good,” he replies slowly. “The guys, they’re…coping,” and Bradley knows immediately that’s just Tank’s nice way of saying they're better off without him.
So he just nods, places a hand on his knee to stop it from shaking, and says, “Good… That’s—good to hear.” Because he knows they could not give less of a shit about losing him as a leader but he also never gave much of a shit about any of them either.
Silence drapes over them like a heavy stifling blanket and Bradley clears his throat as quietly as possible, stiff and uncomfortable in the house that used to be his kingdom. He used to be able to talk to Tank, too, but now he can’t even meet his eyes across the room, still unable to fathom how the guy forgave him so readily after basically leaving him for dead.
“You want something to eat?” Tank asks, startling Bradley out of his thoughts. “There’s still leftovers in the kitchen from the meeting, I can fix you something up.”
The mere thought of food instantly makes Bradley feel sick to his stomach. “That’s not necessary. Thanks.”
They lapse back into silence and Bradley occupies himself by impatiently drumming a beat against his thighs.
Tank sighs. “What's on your mind, baby?”
Bradley closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose. Uppercrusts aren’t cowards and this is what he came here for. So.
“It’s Max.”
Tank fails to hide his surprise at that and it takes him a moment to school his expression into something neutral again. “The Goof kid? What about him?”
“I’m tutoring him,” he tells him and a cursory glance at Tank is enough to confirm Bradley’s suspicions, his expression clouding over in realisation.
“So you did know,” he snarls at him.
Tank raises his palms in a placating gesture. “I swear I told them to leave it,” he promises. “I didn’t—”
“Didn’t think Nate’s stupid prank would turn out like that now, did you?”
“Hey, I never meant to—”
“It doesn't matter,” Bradley cuts him off with a sigh, shoulders slumping as all the fight suddenly leaves him. It doesn't matter. At least now he knows for sure where his former Gamma brothers stand and, clearly, it didn’t work out as horribly as they’d hoped in the end anyway. So. It doesn't matter.
“He keeps asking for another lesson,” Bradley goes on, circling back to the original topic. “We’ve been seeing each other twice a week.”
Tank makes that low humming sound in the back of his throat he always makes when he’s thinking very hard about something. “And you wanna see him more often? Is that what's bothering you?”
Bradley chokes on air, balking at the idea. “What? No.” He glares at Tank. “I’m saying I shouldn't be seeing him at all.”
Tank makes another humming noise, swirling his wine around in his glass, and Bradley feels his throat tighten up as he waits. “I don’t know, maybe you should reconsider. I think he might be good for you, actually.”
Bradley narrows his eyes at him, every instance of Max making him genuinely laugh over the last year coming to mind immediately. “Why would you say that? Have you been spying on me?”
Tank gives him one of his signature looks, the one that says Oh please. Stop being paranoid slash insane slash delusional and Bradley’s mouth snaps shut in an instant, working the muscles in his jaw.
“Okay. No spying then,” he admits through grit teeth. “What would possibly make you say something as preposterous as this then?”
Tank shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t ask me, baby, it just seemed that way from the start, you know? You two always had this kinda vibe going on.”
“And what vibe are you talking about exactly?”
Tank heaves another sigh and Bradley is moments away from vomiting onto the costly mohair carpet. He’s seconds away from going insane, actually. Maybe the meds aren’t working properly. “Sweetheart, it's totally okay to enjoy spending time with him. If you like his company, then maybe—”
“I don't,” Bradley interrupts him sharply, mouth disgustingly dry. “I don’t like him.”
He doesn't. He can’t. His mother would laugh herself into hysterics. His father would probably threaten him with a fake kidnapping.
“Bradley, it’s—”
“Shut up!”
Jumping to his feet, Bradley curls his fingers at his sides and hides them in his pockets. The room starts to spin around him and heat washes over him with every beat of his heart. “You're just as delusional as you always were,” he hisses and regrets it the moment he says it. “I wonder why I even bothered to come.”
With that, he storms past Tank and out of the Gamma building, not bothering to close the door behind him. He doesn't like Max. Tank is wrong. His life might be a joke but it can’t be that much of a trainwreck.
_
“Same time on Tuesday?”
Usually, Bradley pretends to be annoyed by Max’s question and then they have this back and forth for a while even though he always ends up agreeing in the end anyway, but today Bradley grows quiet in his seat and doesn’t hit him with the usual When will you stop asking, Goof?
What he says instead is: “We’ll have to skip next week. My mother will be staying with me for a few days.”
Max frowns at him, in the middle of slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “So? We’ll just keep it to an hour or so.”
Bradley sighs, one of his long, overly dramatic ones, and shakes his head with the click of his tongue. “Max, Max, Max,” he tuts, removing his glasses. “You’re being awfully self-centred. Not everyone’s parents are like… Goofy. My mother expects my undivided attention for the time she will be visiting.”
Max furrows his brows, leaning back into his seat. It’s gonna be weird skipping their lessons, they’ve been seeing each other at least twice a week for months now. “Alright, well—see ya in two weeks then?”
Strangely enough, that makes Bradley look up at him, a flicker of open wonder crossing his features before his gaze loses focus and he seemingly drifts off somewhere into his thoughts.
Max watches him for a moment, then inclines his head and taps him on the shoulder. “Hello? Earth to Brad? You still in there?”
With a jolt, Bradley snaps out of it and clears his throat, straightening down the front of his horrible sweater vest even though it’s probably been ironed ten times. “When will you stop asking, Goof?” he asks, finally, but it’s less of his usual snap and more of a weak mumble this time.
He turns around, waving a hand in the air in silent goodbye, and Max watches him leave with a frown, unsure why he feels the need to go after him and pester him some more.
Back in his dorm two days later, Max disappointedly looks around the abandoned room and remembers that PJ and Bobby have left for spring break this morning—PJ to spend it with the family of his new girlfriend and Bobby to… go bungee jumping with his new flame…? Max isn’t quite sure he got that right.
Anyway. Max has one more exam to sit and a whole lot of extra studies to get through this break which Bradley oh so generously agreed to help him with, so he told his dad to go and enjoy a romantic holiday with Sylvie instead; just the two of them. Which is all fine, honestly, except—it kinda leaves him all on his own now.
A sudden harsh knock at the door has Max look up from his phone in confusion. It’s the middle of the night. Did Bobby forget his sunglasses again?
Scrambling out of bed, he kicks an empty pizza box out of the way before opening the door, only to immediately raise his brows at the person he finds in front of it.
“I thought you had a week-long date with your mum?” he questions with a smirk, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “Did you miss me that much?”
Bradley scowls at him for a moment before his expression shifts into something less hostile, his shoulders dropping from where they were hunched up to his ears. “Are you busy right now?”
In an instant, the smirk slips from Max’s face and he straightens up, taking a proper look at Bradley because there was definitely a hint of… something in his tone that he never heard before. Max also notices that he reeks of beer, now that he’s paying closer attention.
“Not at all, man,” he replies quickly and opens the door a bit wider to invite him in. “Make yourself at home.”
Taking him up on the offer, Bradley enters and, after looking around for a moment, stops awkwardly in the middle of the room to… inspect his nails or whatever. He looks so out of place in their dorm, all proper and stiff, that Max suddenly feels weirdly self-conscious about the heap of unwashed laundry in the corner and the open bag of chips on his bed. Neither of them say anything and they just kind of breathe together in silence, PJ’s annoying ass clock ticking away in the background.
“Soooo…” Max starts, dragging out the vowel. “What are you doing up so late? Isn’t it time for your beauty sleep or something?”
Bradley sneers at him and Max can’t deny the wave of relief that crashes over him at the fact that he’s finally acting normal again. “That’s rich coming from you, baby.”
But then he just—sort of, deflates, shoulders slumping forward and lips parting in a sigh. He’s not wearing his glasses and Max can make out the shadows beneath his eyes in the soft glow of the moon filtering in through the open window.
“What happened, man?” Max asks after a moment of considering whether he really wants to know.
Bradley develops a distinctly cagey expression. “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”
Kinda hoping Bradley will just follow if he sits down, Max makes a beeline for his bed. “Alright, sure thing.” Bradley doesn’t. “So you wanna—”
“Look, Goof, coming here was a mistake.” Bradley runs a hand through his hair, leaving it all messed up and sticking out in various directions. “I’ll show myself out.”
“Hey, no front or anything but it’s pretty obvious that you’re hung up about one thing or another and you being here right now means you didn’t have a lot of other options, so,” Max shrugs, giving Bradley a lopsided grin. “How about you chill the fuck out and just sit down first?”
But Bradley doesn't move, chewing on his bottom lip in an uncharacteristic display of nerves.
“I know I'm probably the last person you wanna talk to,” Max coaxes, “but I’d like to think we have enough history to at least give it a try.”
Bradley continues to stare at the floor for several minutes, clearly battling his own stupid pride, but eventually he lets out a big sigh and sits down next to Max, neatly folding his hands in his lap. “Shit, this is really uncool.“
“Oh?” Max arches a brow, observing Bradley’s face. “You should’ve told me that’s what you’ve been going for all this time!”
Bradley looks up to glare at him but it’s as half-hearted as Max’s jab was.
“Did you drive here drunk?” Max asks then, finally addressing the elephant in the room.
“I’m not drunk,” Bradley argues. “I just had a few drinks. And, for your information, I walked.”
“You walked all the way here?” Max gawks at Bradley in disbelief. “Isn’t your place, like, way out of town?”
“...I had to clear my head,” is all Bradley says to that, evidently done with the topic, so Max decides to leave it at that for now. No point in forcing anything.
Usually, Bradley never shuts the fuck up but now they sit in silence again, only the sound of their combined breathing filling the room. Not used to that at all, Max tries to fill it with another question. “So, is your mum still staying at your place?”
Bradley makes a small noise of confirmation, tearing at the skin around his nails, and Max slowly starts to piece things together. Playing with the metal ring in his lip, he chances another glance at Bradley and thinks of a way to phrase his next question that won’t get him shouted at, or… murdered.
“Is she…” he starts tentatively, “is she the reason you walked all the way here?”
Bradley turns his head to look at him. “If I answer that, will you stop asking stupid questions?”
“Probably not.”
Max gives him a wide grin and feels something in his chest warm when Bradley rolls his eyes, softened by the beginnings of a smile on his lips.
“She is,” Bradley tells him after a moment of hesitation. “She… it’s difficult.”
Max exhales through his nose and leans his head back against the wall. “I get it, dude. Parents can be a real pain in the ass sometimes,” he says and huffs a laugh. “Ah, who am I talking to, you've met my dad.”
Bradley, once again, says nothing to that. His eyes are cast towards the floor and there’s a tense set to his shoulders. “Your father—your dad isn't even that bad, Goof. You should appreciate him more.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.”
Bradley’s lips thin into a firm line and then he abruptly gets up off the bed, haphazardly fixing his hair. “I should really get going,” he says. “This was a mistake. See you in two weeks, Max.”
“Hold on!”
Max scrambles off the bed as well, stumbling over his feet in his hurry to get in front of Bradley who’s already halfway to the door. “You can't go back.”
Bradley raises one brow at him. “Excuse me?”
“You shouldn't, I mean,” Max explains, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, it’s obvious you’re not too crazy about being there, so you should just—stay. Here. Until the morning?”
Bradley’s stoic expression wavers as he actually considers this and Max feels that same kind of warmth from earlier flood his insides again.
Then Bradley wrinkles his nose and curls his lip in a sneer. “I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
Max bites back a laugh. “No problem,” he gestures around the room. “There are two beds to choose from.”
Bradley looks back over his shoulder only to cross his arms under his chest when he turns back around, his face twisted in obvious disgust. “As if I’d sleep in either of those.”
Max raises both brows and chooses to treat this as a personal challenge. He takes a step towards Bradley and cocks his head to the right with a smirk. “Hmmm, would my humble sleeping fortress perhaps be able to measure up to your standards then, your Highness?”
He gestures towards his single bed and Bradley actually seems to consider this a possibility.
“Where are you going to sleep then?” he asks, voice unsure, and Max tries to ignore the way his stomach violently somersaults at the implication that sleeping in Max’s bed is somehow more acceptable to Bradley than either of the others.
“In my bed, duh,” Max retorts, pressing his palm into his mattress topper. “See those five centimetres of extra height? That’s my top secret weapon to sleep through the night when Bobby ends up snoring again. Easily one of my smartest investments.”
Bradley eyes him as if he’s gone insane before he shakes his head with a disbelieving scoff. “So, what? You want us to sleep in the same bed?”
Max shrugs. “Yeah, what's the big deal? PJ, Bobby and I’ve shared before and nobody even fell off the bed.”
“Yes, but—” Bradley quickly cuts himself off. His eyes widen almost comically, as if he wanted to say something but caught himself just in the nick of time. His breath hitches like he wants to try again but every time he does he falters and nothing comes out.
“Come on, man, I gotta hit the library first thing in the morning,” Max decides, brushing past Bradley and throwing himself face first onto the bed. He crawls towards the inner side and pats the space next to him. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”
Bradley just stands there, brows pinched together, lips parted in disbelief, and a red tint to his cheeks that Max honestly wishes he could take a photo of, if only to tease him about it in the morning.
He feels his lips pull into a shit-eating smirk. “Or are you scared you might catch the poor, Brad?”
Bradley snorts and finally uncrosses his arms. “Shut up,” he grumbles as he gets into bed next to him.
Max snickers quietly and rolls onto his side to unplug his tiny night light. “See you in the morning, Brad.”
“It’s Bradley,” Bradley argues. “Brad-ley.” A pause. The sound of his glasses being set down on the nightstand. “If you steal the blankets, I’m going to kill you.”
Max bites his tongue to keep from bickering and squeezes his eyes shut in order to force his body to fall asleep.
_
Max wakes up with Bradley’s arm slung over his chest and Bradley’s face pressed against his neck and his heart skips a beat.
At first, he thinks it’s surprise from waking up with someone else in his bed, but his heart continues to go pitter-patter inside his chest even after he remembers what happened last night and Bradley’s quiet exhales tickling his hot skin only seem to make it worse.
Carefully, he angles his head to get a better look and finds Bradley still fast asleep. His cheek is squished against Max’s collarbone, his lips are slightly parted, and—Max stifles a chuckle. He’s got the worst case of bed hair Max has ever seen, and that includes Bobby’s from when he had that long-ass cut. He looks… younger than usual.
When he turns to take a look at the clock, he’s extra cautious not to disturb the other boy, going at a snail’s pace and making sure his arm doesn’t move from where it’s tucked beneath Bradley. He for sure looked like he could use every bit of sleep he could get.
A quick glance at the time tells him there’s still plenty of it left before he has to get his ass into the library to study, so he adjusts his position carefully and lets his eyes fall shut again. A bit more sleep won't hurt him either.
_
Bradley wakes up with a mouthful of hair in his mouth and a slender arm wrapped loosely around his shoulders and his heart skips a beat.
He shoots up immediately, moving away from Max in a panic which causes the other boy to wake with a violent jolt and a sharp intake of breath. Max flails in his bed, tangling himself further in the sheets as he blinks furiously to try and make sense of the situation.
Then his eyes find Bradley’s and realisation washes over his features and Bradley’s heart drops to the bottom of his feet.
Max’s long curls are all messed up from sleeping, there are deep pillow marks on the side of his face and his stupidly oversized shirt has slipped off his left shoulder, exposing more bare skin than Bradley was prepared to deal with.
His stomach somersaulting, Bradley forces his gaze away and retreats off the bed so fast he almost falls flat on his ass.
“Jesus, dude, what’s wrong?” Max asks, evidently confused as to what the hell is going on, and, actually, Bradley would like to know that, too. How the hell did he end up agreeing to go to bed with Max Goof last night? That’s just—pathetic.
Even more pathetic than that, however, is that his heart won't stop racing inside his chest and he knows that the feeling of Max’s arm around him and his warm weight against him will forever be burned into his memory now.
“Shit,” he curses under his breath, bending down to reach for his shoes that have somehow been kicked under the bed. “Crap.”
“Bradley?” Max repeats, and—shit, he sounds unusually serious now. “Hey, talk to me, did something happen?”
“I just—” Bradley falters, takes a deep breath, and tries to gather his thoughts. “I need to get back. My mother won't be very pleased that I've been away all night.”
Which isn't even a lie. Mother will be pissed that he spent the night somewhere else but he couldn’t care less about his mother right now.
“Wait, but—” Max rubs his eyes and scrambles off the bed, hand hovering in the air between them as if he wants to touch him. “Are you sure? Maybe it’s better to, you know, wait it out and think of a way to deal with this first.”
“Yes, Max, I’m sure,” Bradley snaps and shoots him a glare. “Don’t get too full of yourself. You don't know anything about me or my life, freshman.”
He grits his teeth and doesn’t miss the hurt flickering across Max’s face. Last night was probably the closest he ever came to talking about his family with someone outside of it but Max can’t know that.
“I shouldn't have spent the night in a place like this,” Bradley goes on despite himself, gesturing around the room. “And in a shared bed no less.”
No, no, no, no, no, shut your damn mouth, just stop talking before you ruin everything.
“We come from entirely different worlds, Max. And, frankly, it’s preposterous that someone of my class is even seen around someone as economically disadvantaged as you.”
It's his voice but his father’s words. His mouth feels numb and he can’t even look at Max.
Rightfully so, Max’s hurt quickly turns to anger. “Hey, man, if you got a problem with—”
“I’m not gay!”
Bradley feels his own eyes widen as his mouth snaps shut, but it’s already too late. The sudden silence in the room feels deafening as they just stare at each other and Bradley is too paralyzed to move.
Then, Max pulls back with a furrow between his brows. “What? What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Nothing,” Bradley snaps and turns on his heels, rushing towards the door. “Nothing.”
(Everything.)
“Hey—Bradley!”
But Bradley doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn around, and doesn’t even grab his coat. Can barely keep his own breathing under control, his father’s booming voice in his head telling him what a disgrace he is.
(Shit.)
Because he is. Gay. And he likes Max Goof.
(Fuck.)
_
Bradley doesn’t have a single clue what he's even doing here.
The last time he attended one of the Gamma Mu Mu’s famous parties was when he was still hosting them. Now? He has no reason to be here. He is neither their king anymore nor their friend.
Bradley curls his fingers inside his pockets and takes a deep breath before looking up at the facade of the Gamma headquarters, loud music booming in his ears. Stupid Tank and his stupid guilt-tripping. He would not stop bothering him about coming to this semester’s opening party until Bradley reluctantly gave in a week ago, if only because he thought it might be a good opportunity to make amends with the other guys.
A couple of giggling girls push past him, not even bothering to apologise when they nearly spill their drinks on his suede shoes, and Bradley has half a mind to just call this a failed attempt and go back home.
But an Uppercrust cannot be seen losing and leaving now would probably kill all chances he ever had at a potential friendship with Tank.
So. Bradley grits his teeth and steps over the threshold, instantly feeling sick when the sharp smell of alcohol hits him.
He walks through halls that felt more like a home than his family house ever did, past rooms he doesn't belong in anymore and picture frames he’s missing from and gives a tight-lipped smile to everyone who greets him.
For a moment, he considers filling up his solo cup and just downing the contents until he feels like he could cope with the suffocating weight of his memories in this house but decides against it when he remembers that he already spent last night drunk and alone in his room while his mother was out doing god knows what.
“Yo, Bradley!”
Bradley turns towards one of his former Gamma brothers, smirking at him from the door of the kitchen.
“Slouch,” he greets, plastering on his signature grin. “It’s been a while.”
“You can say that twice,” Slouch says with a laugh and points back over his shoulder. “Come check this out, we’re playing spin the bottle in the study.”
Bradley bites back a grimace. He always hated those drinking games. They always either involved making out with strangers or otherwise getting humiliated and Bradley disliked both, getting intimate with others and putting his reputation on the line.
“Ah,” he starts, racking his brain for one of his old excuses, only to be interrupted by Slouch reaching up to put an arm around his shoulders.
“You should totally give it a go,” he insists. “Old time’s sake and all.”
Bradley grinds his teeth together but then he gives himself an imaginary push and only thinks about the amends he set his mind to make tonight when he agrees and follows Slouch into the study.
“I sincerely hope you’re not using glass bottles for spinning this time, the—”
Bradley’s breath catches in his throat, his heart stuttering inside his chest as he skids to a halt and takes in the scene in front of him.
Next to him, Slouch snickers, saying something Bradley can’t make out over the rushing in his ears. He can’t tear his gaze away from Max, lips pressed against those of some girl from Bradley’s senior class. They break apart, returning to their seats, when Max’s eyes suddenly meet his across the room. They widen in surprise and something in Bradley’s chest just—shatters. He turns around and runs straight out of the building, fighting the stinging burn in his throat.
They all know. And they even have the guts to make fun of him now. Bradley, the former uncrowned king of this school, with his hopeless crush on his underclassman who clearly doesn’t want him like that. Because Max is normal. Because Max likes girls.
Outside in the backyard, Bradley leans on his knees and tries to catch his breath, focusing on deep inhales and long exhales like he read somewhere in an article about panic attacks once. Was Tank in on it? Is that why he wanted him to come so badly?
Burying his hands in his hair, Bradley tugs at the strands until the faint burn of his scalp drowns out the sounds of the party behind him.
“Bradley!”
Everything inside of him freezes up at the sound of that voice and everything inside of him just wants to run away from this stupid place and hide in his room until everyone has forgotten about him. But the Uppercrusts aren’t cowards, so he has no choice but to turn around and face reality.
“Baby Goof,” he sneers and musters his best scowl with the last scraps of energy he finds at the bottom of himself.
But Max’s gaze is fixed on his hair where his hands have been buried in just seconds ago.
“Uh,” Max starts, eloquent as always, and steps closer carefully as if Bradley is some kind of frightened animal, and Bradley feels the urge to laugh. Because Max got it all wrong. He's not the prey, he comes from a long line of predators. “...Are you okay?”
Bradley would very much like to simply lie and get this over with but unfortunately he’s painfully aware of how all of this must look like to Max, so he goes with his next best option. “Don’t force yourself. My well-being is none of your concern.”
Max frowns at him. “Sure it is, dude, we’re… friends.”
Bradley goes for a scoff but it comes out more like a breathless huff, his throat feeling awfully tight. He has never had someone call him friend before.
“I’m just fine,” he insists, forcing the words past his lips. “So you can go back inside and enjoy the party. I don’t want to keep you from your… fun.”
Immediately, Max’s cheeks grow red, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, about that, Bobby roped me into a round of spin the bottle and—”
“You can kiss whoever you want, Max.”
Max hesitates, less thrown off-guard by the bite in his words than Bradley expected, and searches his face for a moment. Then he takes a deep breath, as if bracing himself for something.
“Yeah, but I'd rather kiss you.”
Bradley gapes at him in disbelief, not sure if he heard him right. Maybe this Max in front of him isn’t even really here and just a figment of his imagination.
“You would rather what?” he whispers, and Max is suddenly a lot closer than before, the ridiculous metal rings in his lip glinting beneath the low light of the lantern.
“Kiss you,” Max repeats easily, but for all his confidence the grin on his lips seems awfully wonky right now. “If you wanna give it a try, too.”
“Why?” Bradley asks, and immediately cringes at how shaky his voice sounds.
“Why?” Max echoes, breathing a low chuckle. Bradley can feel it against his face. “Where’s all your bravado gone, Brad?”
Bradley swallows, too aware of the fact that it would only take one more step to close the distance between them. “I mean, why would you want to kiss—a boy?”
He stops himself from saying me at the last moment, suddenly afraid that this is just another attempt to make a fool out of him.
Max shrugs and takes that one step, their hands now brushing in the small space between them. “I like who I like. And if that’s a boy, then it’s a boy.”
Like. Bradley doesn’t think his heart has ever beat faster. Not even when his father found out he was hiding his school reports beneath his bed.
There’s no one in the backyard except for the two of them but Bradley knows there could very well be any moment now, so he gathers all the courage he should be genetically entitled to and surges forward to capture Max’s lips in a kiss.
For a second, Max seems to be taken aback, clearly surprised by his sudden change in pace, but before long he’s kissing him back in kind, tilting his head to give Bradley better access.
Warm hands wandering up his bare arms eventually trace up his sides and wrap themselves around his waist, pulling him closer and causing a surprised gasp to slip past Bradley’s lips.
It's beyond humiliating that Max has clearly done this once or twice before while this is Bradley’s first kiss ever. He hopes Max won't notice. He hopes Max won't care even if he does notice.
Max is the first to break away, just barely moving back far enough for Bradley to be able to see him when he opens his eyes. Max is already looking at him, a small smile on his lips and a deep flush on the bridge of his nose. He’s watching Bradley with the softest expression anyone has ever given him and Bradley can’t take his eyes off him.
He clears his throat and straightens his shoulders, tries to push out his chest and raise himself to his full height even though he can feel his own cheeks burning up in the cool air of the night and is barely able to hear over the sound of his own pulse beating in his ears.
(Shit. He’s so gay for Max Goof.)
Then, Max's face splits into a wide grin and the spell is broken. “So this is how I get you to shut up.”
“Shut it,” Bradley grumbles, half-heartedly shoving him in the chest.
Max lets himself be pushed only to bounce back on his heels and end up on his tiptoes, whispering into Bradley’s ear. “Wish I knew this sooner.”
Incoherent cheering and screaming from inside drift towards them with the wind and Bradley’s mood wavers, imagining Slouch and all the others laughing at him behind his back.
“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” Max rests a hand on his shoulder and it snaps Bradley’s thoughts back to the present. “I’ll let PJ and Bobby know, then we can go to my dorm.”
Bradley can only nod, not trusting his voice enough to speak right now. How embarrassing.
“Gotcha,” Max says, squeezing his shoulder briefly before he lets go.“Be right back!”
Max jogs back into the building and while Bradley waits for him to return, he tries not to go insane, because he just had his first kiss in the middle of a half-dug up flower beet and it wasn’t even with a girl. Maybe he should’ve brought his meds with him.
By the time Max gets back, Bradley has managed to significantly lower his heart rate—only for it to spike again immediately when Max casually reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together with a grin. “Let's go.”
Back in Max’s dorm room, the reality of what just happened is finally starting to sink in for Bradley.
“Man, there sure was a lot going on,” Max groans, kicking off his shoes. He flops down onto his bed and stares up at the ceiling, blindly patting the space next to him for Bradley to join him. “Are these things always like this? Would definitely explain the hype.”
“They are,” Bradley mumbles, because he organised at least ten of them in his time and hated every single one more than the last. He joins Max on the bed but sits down at the edge, busying himself by inspecting the broken skin around his cuticles.
Max jabs him in the side with his foot and raises his head to look at him. “Loosen up a little, Brad, promise I won't bite.” He hesitates, offering him a smirk. “…Unless you're into that kind of stuff.”
Bradley’s heart skips a beat. What is he into? He has no idea what he’s into. He never really thought about it.
Max apparently takes his silence as discomfort because he stops messing around and sits back up, bumping their shoulders together. “Sorry, that was kinda lame.” Then, “You okay?”
Bradley wets his lips, merely allowing himself a quick glance at Max. “Yes, of course, it’s just—”
—Why would you kiss me?
—Don't you hate me like the rest of them?
—Are you going to make a joke out of this?
—Can you kiss me again?
Bradley closes his mouth and takes a deep breath before he tries one more time. “I should get home. Soon. I still have a guest.”
Max hums quietly. “Right, your mum’s still staying with you. When’s she gonna leave?”
Bradley is unsure how to feel about the tone of his voice. No one ever talks about his mother this casually, as if she’s simply human like the rest of them.
“Sunday,” Bradley answers, still pointedly ignoring Max’s gaze. “She’s going back for a proposal meeting.”
“Awesome!” Max says, lying back down. “Then there's still plenty of time for you to tell me a bit about her before we meet.”
Bradley swivels around fast enough to give himself whiplash. “Meet?”
Max shrugs, blowing a few strands of hair out of his face. “You know my dad, so it’s only fair, right?”
Bradley scoffs and hopes Max won’t notice the shake in it. ”I’m not sure you're quite up for the task, Maxie.”
Max rolls his eyes and reaches for his elbow, pulling him closer. “Give me some credit, dude. Now come and lie down with me.”
Bradley slowly lets himself sink onto his back next to Max and looks up at the ceiling with him. There are a few glow in the dark stars stuck to it and dried paint on the walls.
“So? Tell me about your folks,” Max prompts. “It’s a lot easier to talk about tough stuff if you're horizontal.”
Surprised, Bradley throws him a sidelong glance. He made sure to keep everything he said neutral and non-incriminating, just like his parents have taught him.
Max turns his head and meets his eyes. “No pressure or anything. It’s all cool.”
He should hate this. Concern from someone else for something that has nothing to do with them. From someone like Max who will never understand. But he doesn't. Instead, it makes him feel strangely cared for.
“There's not much to say,” Bradley starts, unsure what Max would like to know. He has never talked to anyone about this before. “They’re just… my parents. Probably precisely what you imagined them to be like when you heard my name.”
”I actually didn’t have a specific picture in mind, to be honest…” Max argues, trailing off. “Well, except for maybe fancy dinner parties and big ass art collections or something…”
Bradley laughs and it only sounds a little bit hollow. “There certainly is a fair share of dinner parties,” he admits. “I hated those as a child. I was always expected to wear this stiff itchy children’s attire and forced to eat spoonfuls of too salty caviar.”
“Did that happen a lot?” Max asks carefully. “That they forced you into stuff?”
“Oh, no, no, no, it wasn't like that,” Bradley is quick to correct, shaking his head. “Nothing… like that happened.”
And it's true. It’s not like his parents have ever touched him, except for a few disciplinary beatings when his behaviour was way out of line. They just—they have a lot of expectations and put a lot of pressure on him as the only child to have come out of their marriage.
“They’re simply… distant, so I grew up mostly alone. My father was always away on business trips and my mother was too preoccupied with her own appearance to pay attention to me.”
Max hums but something in his voice seems more on edge than before.
“It didn’t bother me,” Bradley adds, feeling the sudden need to defend himself. “As Uppercrusts, they naturally had a lot of obligations and responsibilities to deal with at all times.”
Max lets out a quiet scoff. “I’m an only child, too, and my dad had to work multiple jobs at some point just to keep us going but I never felt alone as a kid.”
“I wasn't lonely,” Bradley argues weakly, growing more uncomfortable with the topic by the second. “I was happy they left me alone. It only bothered me when my father would lock me in my room for hours on the weekend.”
Max pushes himself up on his elbows so he can properly look at Bradley. “Your dad locked you in your room?”
Bradley waves a hand in the air and sits up as well, if only to feel more in control of the situation; it’s too exposing to have Max hover above him like that. “He didn’t actually lock me in, he just ordered me to stay inside and study until he was satisfied with my results. Believe it or not, Goof, I was quite an unruly child. It was necessary to get me to study.”
Max takes a deep breath and exhales it all in a quiet growl. “Well, duh, you were only a child. What child wants to study?”
Bradley huffs a silent laugh and remembers how his father wouldn't even let him come down to eat if he couldn’t provide proof of having finished the assigned chapters. He says, “So, was that enough to satisfy your curiosity?”
“I just—” Max cuts himself off, frowning at Bradley. Then he sighs. “Sure.”
After a moment of looking him up and down, he leans in with a smirk, close enough for Bradley to smell the cheap beer on his breath. “Any ideas what you would rather do?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Bradley studies Max’s face, the freckles along the bridge of his nose and the slant of his eyes, he listens to the sound of their joint breaths and commits it all to memory. He kind of wants to ask What are we? but he doesn’t want to come across as desperate or clingy and he’s not sure he wants to know the answer anyway.
So he exhales slowly instead and watches goosebumps raise on Max’s skin where it hits him. “If you want something, you should take it, Maxie.”
Max makes a quiet sound, his smirk widening, and logically Bradley knows what’s going to happen next. Two college guys, one of them definitely tipsy, who just kissed a few hours ago, sharing a bed—it’s obvious that another kiss will lead to more.
But, between revisiting childhood memories and having, like, no experience at all, Bradley isn't sure if he could handle more right now. He’s not even sure he could properly handle another kiss, still not completely over the first one yet. He also hasn't been to the gym in months and his physical attractiveness has definitely suffered for it, surely Max won’t like—
But Max is already leaning in, one hand on his thigh and the other around his neck, so Bradley has no choice but to go along with whatever Max wants to do, squeezing his eyes shut tight in anticipation.
Unexpectedly, he feels a gentle peck against his heated cheek instead of his lips, so Bradley’s eyes fly open in surprise and he releases the breath he’d been holding.
Max moves back and smiles at him. “Today was a lot, man. Let’s just get some rest.”
Something warm and fuzzy unfurls in Bradley’s stomach and he has difficulties swallowing against the lump in his throat. “Works for me,” he agrees, even though he’s kind of glad Max didn’t want to have sex tonight.
Max yawns, intertwines their fingers and pulls Bradley down onto the bed with him until they’re side by side like the first time he spent the night.
“We can talk about the deetz of me meeting your mum tomorrow,” Max mumbles sleepily, curling into his pillows, and all the warmth in Bradley’s stomach turns to freezing icicles in an instant.
_
There's no dissuading Max from his goal of meeting his mother so, with a heavy heart, Bradley brings Max back to his apartment the following morning.
“She’s not like Goofy,” Bradley warns, fumbling with the keys. ”So don't go around… doing whatever it is you do with that metal in your mouth when you smile.”
Max snorts and waves a hand in the air dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I’m great with parents, Brad, stop worrying.”
Closing his eyes, Bradley raises his head to the heavens and asks for a miracle. He wouldn’t say it was nice being alive but he will still miss his existence just a little bit.
As soon as Bradley turns the keys in the lock and opens the door to let both Max and himself inside, his mother has already appeared in the doorway, her painted lips pursed in disapproval.
“Ah, so you can deign to grace me with your presence,” she greets him, the thin cashmere shawl Bradley has never seen her without wrapped around her dainty shoulders.
Bradley’s mouth dries out as his entire body tenses beneath her gaze and he hates that Max is here to bear witness to any of it. “I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he apologises, lowering his head. “It won't happen again.”
Mother clicks her tongue at him dismissively before making space for them to enter, and when she turns around the cloud of perfume nearly suffocates Bradley. “We both know your promises are just empty words.”
They follow her into the living area where she inspects the chair pillows at length before sitting down to ask, “Have you made any progress with your re-establishment in the Gamma sorority?”
Bradley’s jaw locks and he digs his nails into his thighs inside his pockets. He can sense Max hover behind him, breathing decidedly too loud. “Unfortunately, I haven’t had the opportunity to talk to a lot of them last night.”
Mother clicks her tongue again. “You could never follow simple instructions properly, could you?” she chastises, before letting her gaze travel over his frame agonisingly slowly while Bradley tries his best to keep his shoulders from hunching.
He should have used that ginger kid’s hairspray he found in the corner of the bathroom to at least fix his hair before coming here.
“Your appearance is atrocious,” she comments. “It’s unbecoming of an Uppercrust. Have you been keeping to the fitness regimen your father gave you?”
“I have been keeping to it as well as possible on top of my studies,” he lies. He hasn't had the energy to go to the gym for months now.
Mother makes a disapproving sound. “Regardless, you need to clean up better. What should the people think if you walk around like this?” She makes a vague gesture along the length of his body. “Frankly, I would be ashamed to be seen with you. And God knows in what doss house you’ve been staying to face me looking like this.”
“He's been staying with me,” Max speaks up suddenly, stepping forward. “Hi, I’m Max Goof! Nice to meet you, Mrs Uppercrust.”
Mother’s icy gaze flickers towards him and it's the first time that she even acknowledges his presence. “Pleasure.”
Max gives her a bright smile, all teeth and metal, and Bradley doesn’t miss the way the corners of her lips twitch downwards in disapproval. “Bradley and I go to the same college. We did the X-Games together last year, maybe you've seen?”
Bradley closes his eyes in defeat. He should have given Max a better briefing.
“As if I would waste my valuable time watching something as senseless and childish as a college sports event.”
Desperate to turn this around, Bradley opens his mouth to ask, “Mother, would you like—”
“Well, you should’ve,” Max interrupts him, positioning himself partially in front of Bradley. “Bradley was amazing.”
Bradley struggles to bite back a grimace. There was nothing amazing about his performance at the X-Games and Max knows that better than anyone.
Just as Bradley opens his mouth again in the hopes of somehow guiding this conversation into safer waters, his mother starts to laugh; haughty and artificial.
“Mr Goof,” she says, laughter cutting off as abruptly as it started. “I would have an easier time believing you if you told me he dressed up as a dog and begged the jury to let him win. I have raised this child for more than two decades and I can assure you, Bradley has never been amazing at anything in his life.”
Bradley just grinds his teeth and huffs.
Mother turns her gaze towards him then, one thin brow raised. “Isn’t that right, Bradley? You've been a pain to deal with ever since you dropped out of the womb, forever ruining my body.”
She adjusts her shawl and the bracelets around her wrists nearly slip from her hands. “I simply hope you will actually finish this senseless degree with honours so all of this will at least have some merit for—”
“Did you know Bradley’s been tutoring me for eight months now?” Max cuts her off again. “On top of all his own classes. He’s working himself into the ground for this, maybe you should, I dunno, be a bit more supportive?”
Mother gives a long hum, putting a spindly finger to her lips as she pretends to be deep in thought. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not entirely sure why you are even here, Mr Goof…? These are personal affairs that don’t necessitate the presence of school acquaintances.”
Beside him, Max raises himself to his full height, a sharpness to his tone when he speaks next. “I’m here because I’m your son’s boyfriend and, with all due respect, Mrs Uppercrust, I won't stand by and listen to you talk to him like that.”
Bradley’s head snaps to the side and he stares at Max in surprise.
Because I’m your son's boyfriend.
But Max doesn't meet his eyes, his gaze resolutely fixed on his mother.
“Oh please,” she laughs, wiping imaginary tears from her eyes. “How much did he pay you to say that?”
Bradley is used to his parents speaking about him like that; at birthdays, funerals, weddings, and every other family function. But it still causes a tiny flicker of humiliation to surge through his chest to know that Max is hearing this, too.
Beside him, Max scoffs. “He doesn't have to pay me,” he snaps and blindly reaches for Bradley’s hand. “Unlike you, who probably had to buy her way into this family.”
Mother shakes her head with an insincere sigh. “I see you have dropped to even lower social circles, Bradley.”
Max tightens his grip on his hand. “Come on, Bradley, let’s go.”
And before he knows it, Bradley finds himself being pulled out of his own apartment and onto the street, too caught up in his initial shock to protest when Max leads them several blocks away.
When it eventually lets up and he finds his bearings again, Bradley immediately tugs himself free and stops to glare at Max. “Jesus Christ, Max—”
(Never has he ever walked out on his mother like that before.)
“You can't just—”
(He’s the one who’ll have to deal with the consequences later.)
Max takes a deep breath, releasing it in a drawn-out sigh. And then he launches himself at Bradley in a hug so violently forceful it knocks the air out of his lungs.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles into the collar of his sweater vest, “but your mum kinda sucks.”
Bradley freezes up in surprise. “I guess,” he says slowly. “She’s always been like that so I can never really tell.”
He’s unsure what to do or where to put his hands, arms crushed between their bodies. He can’t remember ever being hugged before. Maybe by his governess once, when he was sick.
“Yeah, well, she sucks big time,” Max repeats, burying his face in the crook of his neck before letting go. “My dad’ll be thrilled to welcome you into the family!”
Bradley feels himself blush at the implication, then immediately grimaces at the memory of what happened at the X-Games. “I’m not sure your dad would approve of—”
“Shhh,” Max cuts him off, placing a finger on his lips. “You’ve met him, dude, he won’t care about any of that.”
Then it’s Max’s turn to blush, his cheeks darkening rapidly. “Actually, maybe we shouldn't hang around my dad too much, he‘ll make you sit through hours of stories of the past, it’s boring as hell.”
“Oh?” Bradley asks, suddenly intrigued. “I highly disagree. I bet Goofy religiously keeps photo albums, too. He sure seems like the type.”
Max shoves him in the chest, the tips of his ears burning red. “Knock it off, Brad.”
“Can I expect any unfortunate baby photos then?” Bradley teases, “Or maybe even a video or two. I’d sure love to see your wobbly first steps, baby.”
Max, impossibly, blushes even harder, lips pulled into disgruntled frown, and in a sudden impulsive bout of boldness, Bradley leans down and gives Max a quick kiss on the lips.
Max looks at him like a deer caught in the headlights and Bradley feels a chuckle bubble up in his chest. “What's the matter?” he asks innocently, straightening back up. “Am I not allowed to do that?”
“You are,” Max mumbles, clearing his throat. “You just caught me off guard, is all.”
Bradley snickers, only to choke on it when Max suddenly pulls him down by the front of his sweater to kiss him properly.
“Look who’s talking now,” he comments when they break apart, hands on his hips and a smug grin on his lips. “Definitely not you.”
“Whatever, freshman,” Bradley huffs, slightly dazed from whatever it was that Max just did with his tongue. “I’m still better at Trigonometry than you.”
Max lets out a groan and Bradley can’t help but laugh. He never really considered himself lonely until he got a glimpse of what it’s like not to be. He thinks he likes this a lot better.