From Feud to Flame - pinksaturnxx (2024)

Chapter 1: What If?

Chapter Text

It had been about a month since the X-Games. Everything finally reverted back to normal. Well, for everybody else it seemed to have. From an outsider’s perspective, one would think that it only took Bradley a day to move on from the loss, if that. Despite getting exposed for cheating, he didn’t face many dire consequences. He was still President of the Gamma Mu Mu fraternity, team captain of his team, and sure, he lost some followers, but many of them still hovered around, watching his every move with doe eyes of admiration. For the most part, the life of Bradley Uppercrust III remained the same, however his internal voice and feelings took a turn, and changed into something he hadn’t felt since middle school. Shame. It clung onto his back for dear life, clawing into his skin, and whispered deprecating words into his ears. No matter how many distractions: parties, skating, girls, etc., he could not alleviate the heaviness he had in his heart. It weighed down on his stomach, putting him in a constant state of feeling sick.

5:00 AM was typically when Bradley started his days. The ear-piercing sound of the alarm on his phone never failed to jolt him awake. After turning it off, Bradley would take a couple minutes laying there, gathering the energy to get the day started, before he'd slowly roll out of bed. His attention went to the full-length mirror that hung on his door, and the reflection of his half-naked body. Depending on his mood, he’d either flex and smolder at himself, or poke and prod at his flaws. Like how his hips and butt poked out slightly more than the other guys’, and the softness of his facial structure.

Once he inspected himself until he was satisfied, he went over to his bedside drawer to dig out a bottle with a label that said: ‘testosterone’ and a bag of needles. Stabbing your skin with a needle full of a strange substance first thing in the morning sounded cruel, even tortuous, however after doing it for years, since he was thirteen, it became as mundane as the rest of a typical morning routine. Bradley needed to, after all, because he’d been skipping it too many days. With everything prepared, he sat on the edge of the bed. First, he wiped his thigh with an alcohol wipe, then he lined the needle up to the exact spot that was disinfected.

Inhale…

3…2…1…

Exhale…

Bradley winced at the sharp pain, followed by the discomfort of the thick liquid entering his muscle. Usually, it wouldn’t hurt any more than a pinch, but that was only when there’s fat on the body. Lately, Bradley had been working out more than usual. Almost excessively. Sometimes even two, or three times a day. Not only that, but he developed a diet of only chicken, rice and frozen vegetables. His body looked more toned and muscular. Better than it has ever looked, in fact. Due to the change, he started getting more double takes than usual, and girls were bolder with their pursuits. Even though Bradley had a body that many envied, he still found reasons to feel disgust towards himself, and nitpick areas that needed improvement. It was a never-ending cycle for him.

After his shot, he went over to his closet. Bradley would always pick out his outfits the night before, and neatly hang them in an area where it’s separated from the rest of the clothes.

On the weekends, he really had no need to plan out what he was going to wear, though, because he was required to wear the same uniform every day for work. He supposed it was sort of a plus side of having a job. Sometimes figuring out what color palette to wear was so draining (poor Bradley!). In the past, he’d worked a handful of jobs, such as being a barista and a lifeguard, however, at that time, he chose to work. It was in order to have what he liked to call “fun money” and to socialize with coworkers of his age. There was never any urgency for Bradley to work, because his father would cover any and everything he ever needed.

Well, that went down the drain after the X-Games incident. As punishment, his father declared that he was no longer going to give him a weekly allowance. From that point forward, the only thing he was going to pay for was his college tuition. Bradley scoffed when he remembered, word by word, what his father said since they last spoke.

His dad’s raspy voice rattled in his head, “The next time you screw up, I don’t care, I’m not paying for anything! No school, no Gammas, no vacations, nothing! You could drop out and end up homeless for all I care!” Recalling the way his father dramatically hung up the phone after his spiel, Bradley couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He pulled his work uniform out to lay it on his bed while he continued to think about his father’s scolding. After living with such a hard ass his entire life, he eventually got used to the harsh, hateful words he spat out at him. Growing up, he used to spend nights crying himself to sleep, but now he simply just carried on with his day, completely unphased. His father sure helped thicken his skin, he’ll give him that. Bradley sighed as he walked out of his bedroom, then into the bathroom. Every day, he’d hope that a shower would help him wash off this icky shame, but it was never a remedy.

It was about 7:30 by the time Bradley was ready to walk out the door. The cafe he worked at was only five minutes away, but he would always wake up a couple hours early to make sure he looked perfect. Putting so much effort into his appearance made him feel more confident in himself, although, his father would only tell him that was his “womanly nature” seeping out. The only things he considered “womanly” that he did was styling his hair with women’s products and applying some concealer on any facial impurities. His father didn’t need to know that, though.

Bradley checked himself out one more time in his mirror. As the time to go got closer, the dread intensified. He always felt so embarrassed going out in public in such an ugly uniform. It’s almost like they made it that way on purpose. As if being a server wasn’t already demeaning enough of a job at times. The colors of the work uniform were so unflattering on him. It was a red and white striped polo shirt with navy blue pants. Not to mention, the way the clothes fit on Bradley made him look frumpy, but he managed to make it work by focusing on other aspects of his appearance, such as his hair, and any other hygiene practices. Aside from the confidence, Bradley found that he got better tips if he looked more presentable, despite the train wreck of an outfit. Even if there was only a miniscule improvement in said tips.

Oh well, money is money.

God, he never thought he’d see the day where he’d even think something like that. The thought of scraping for money left a gross taste on his tongue.

He was an Uppercrust. Uppercrusts were above that.

~

Bradley couldn’t even put his personal belongings in his locker, before his manager rushed over to him. “Bradley! There you are sweetie! Once you clock in, you’re handling table two. And make it snappy! We only got you and Stacey right now, alright?” Based on her demeanor, and appearance, it was easy to tell she lived a rough life. She had the voice of a lifelong smoker, along with many tattoos that wrote out her story full of bad decisions and regrets.

He replied, “Only Stacey and I? Are you serious? It’s like a jungle out there!” Bradley quickly wrapped his apron around his waist.

She sighed and shook her head, “f*ckin’ Zach called out. Again. What a piece of sh*t…Anyways! Chop! Chop! We got mouths to feed!” The older woman practically shoved Bradley back out to the front.

His eyes scanned the entire cafe. Despite it being a small, hole-in-the-wall place, the amount of people piled up by the front entrance made it seem like it was some all-star restaurant that just opened in town. The food here is not that good, he thought to himself. Breakfast rushes were nothing new to him, despite only being there for a month. Customers wouldn’t stop backing up the front door until it hit noon. It was difficult to bend backwards for customers with a variety of different personalities, whilst under the pressure of getting everything right as quickly as possible, but the shift itself went by quickly. Bradley could already feel the sweat beads building by his temples, as he approached table two. When he got there, he was too busy situating the pamphlet, and preparing to write to get a good look at the customers he was serving.

Like an automated message, Bradley said, “Good morning, welcome to Sunshine Dee’s Cafe. My name is Bradley, and I’ll be your server. What can I get you started-”

A familiar voice interrupted his script, “Brad?! What are you wearing?" There was only one person that called him by that name. This followed up with an explosion of laughter between three boys.

When Bradley looked up, he nearly gasped and dropped the items in his hand.

There was no way. He must’ve been dreaming. Or having a sick, twisted nightmare.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here, Brad. Let alone, be our waiter,” Max mockingly cooed. He immediately looked over at Bobby and P.J. for approval, to which he received through their laughs. Bradley felt the heat rush to his face.

“What’s wrong? You already spent all of your trust fund money?” P.J. spat out.

“Yeaah! Rich boy not so…er- rich now!” Bobby added.

Through clenched teeth, Bradley replied, “Can I get you guys some drinks? Coffee?” His eye was twitching so much already that he felt like a vein in his temple would pop at any moment. He wished it would, then he’d have an excuse to escape this public humiliation he called “work.” Max had a cheeky smirk on his face as he looked over the menu.

“Well, what kind of drinks do you have?” Max asked.

Bradley scoffed, “You’re looking at them right now. Can you not read?”

“Yeah, but…I don’t really know what any of them really are. Y’know, I’d rather hear it coming from you, since you work here and all,” Max replied, putting the menu down and locking eyes with him. Bradley immediately looked away, nervously clicking his pen.

“Okay…what looks the most appealing to you at first glance?”

Max shrugged and smugly replied, “I don't Know. What do you recommend, Bradster? Or maybe gimme a run down?” He leaned back into the booth with his arms behind his back. Bradley took a moment to put his face in his hand. He let out a sigh, dumbfounded by how ridiculous this interaction had become.

“So…let me get this straight…” He snatched the menu and shoved it in Max’s face.

“You want me to go over every single drink we have? To explain to you what black coffee is? A latte? A smoothie? Water?!” Bradley pointed at each drink he was referring to for dramatic effect, then slung the menu at Max.

He crossed his arms and quipped, “You want me to pull out a textbook and start reading off definitions? What do I look like to you?”

Max replied, purposely acting stupid, “Honestly, good idea! You guys should have some dictionaries or something laying around here. It would probably make your job so much easier. I know words can be a hard thing for you sometimes.” P.J and Bobby couldn’t contain themselves, as they burst out into laughter, banging on the table. The commotion caused a few other customers to turn their heads. It reminded Bradley of how other tables hadn’t even been seated yet, thanks to these dumbasses.

“That’s it, you’re all getting water. It’s what you guys can afford, after all,” Bradley said with a small smile.

“Wait! Kidding! I think we’re actually ready to order, right guys?” Max looked at Bobby and P.J. The two of them nodded in response.

Bradley could already see the game Max was trying to play from a mile away. Since it was so busy, and short staffed, he wanted to waste as much of his time as possible. He was sure that Max relished in disrupting the work of the guy with “daddy’s money,” even if it was for a brief moment. Bradley took the bait anyways, as he crossed out three waters on his pamphlet.

“Alright, what can I get you guys to drink?”

P.J. chimed in, “Umm…what's the difference between dark and light roast?”

“Yeah, yeah! And uhh…do y’all have slushies? What’s da coolest soda-slushies ya got? Like da most colorful, heh…” Bobby asked.

Bradley groaned under his breath, “Someone kill me now…”

After what felt like years of his life wasted (it was five minutes), they all finally decided on their orders. Bradley could hear the laughs of the trio as soon as he walked away.

Whatever. Those goons clearly had nothing else better to do.

Once he went through the back door, the kitchen was located directly to the left, where his coworker, Stacey, was leaning against the counter. She was anxiously bouncing her leg. Suddenly, an idea popped up in his head. As he approached her, he got bits and pieces of what she was saying.

“Guys! They ordered a spinach omelet, not sausage. Can you please remake this?” She said as he pushed a plate of untouched food on the counter. Bradley tapped her on the shoulder, to which she turned around.

She snapped, “What Bradley? I’m doing something!” Her blonde hair, despite tied up in a ponytail, was disheveled, and her eye bags said everything about the state she was in.

“Heyyy Stace, we’re friends, right? Uh, could you take over two…please?” Bradley dryly laughed. The twitching in his eye intensified even more. Stacey furrowed her brows. He already knew what the answer was going to be.

“Brad, that’s not how this works! I handle my section, you handle yours. Suck it up!”

He immediately got desperate, inching closer to his coworker, “But, but- you don’t understand- those guys are- you want me to pay you? You want a share of my tips?”

“Dude, no! I’m busy as it is. Now f*ck off, please?” She replied, while one of the cooks handed her a new plate. Bradley scoffed when Stacey shoulder checked him on her way out.

“Very well, I didn’t need your help! I was…just…you’re a terrible server, anyways! I could handle every single table out there myself!” To add emphasis, he stomped on the ground like a spoiled child. By the time he was done with his mini tantrum, Stacey had already gone out to the front. The sound of the cooks laughing, and blatantly mocking him by mimicking his voice and stomping was heard behind him. He wasn’t used to the word ‘no’ coming out of people’s mouths, nor was he used to getting made fun of so openly. Bradley turned his head to glare at them, about to open his mouth and say something, as if it was instinctual. Instead, he decided it would be best to bite his tongue and continue on with his already humiliating day. He didn’t want to push it.

After tending to his other respective tables, Bradley brought Max, and his crotch goblins for “pals” their drinks. When they approached the three boys, he was balancing all of the drinks on a tray.

“Strawberry milkshake?” Bradley barked. To which Bobby, with his typical dopey smile, gestured to himself.

“Sweet tea?” P.J. awkwardly raised his hand in response.

“And…cinnamon oat milk latte?” What a coincidence, Max liked the same coffee he did. His other two friends allowed Bradley to place their drinks in front of them. Max, instead, took the drink as he was handing it to him, making their fingers brush together. Due to the unexpected contact, Bradley’s arm jolted, causing the coffee spill all over the table and onto Max’s lap.

“Ow! God damn!” Max yelled out, quickly jumping out of his seat.

Bradley audibly gasped before rushing to pull napkins out of the dispenser, tearing the majority of them apart into little pieces. He placed all the shreds onto the coffee table, allowing it to soak up the liquid.

“Sheesh, well I guess this means we’re even,” Max said with a chuckle, referring to the time when they first met at the Bean Scene. He still stood there, his arms out so as to not get the rest of his shirt wet.

“sh*t Max! Just let me do my job in peace!” Bradley snarled.

“Well, if you didn’t spaz out, it would’ve been fine!” He ignored Max’s reply while he used up the remaining napkins to start drying off his lap. The freshman slightly tensed up from the touch.

After a moment, Bradley was squatted, trying his best to wipe out the coffee in his jeans. Due to the thin material of the napkins, they only tore apart even more, leaving white beads on the clothing. Being in that position, he was able to take in Max’s scent. It was a combination of the earthy fragrance of men’s deodorant along with the minty freshness of his gum. Why was he chewing gum before breakfast? He had no idea. The smell of Max was thick as it entered his nose, and it seemed to linger there. With every inhale he took, his heart fluttered. Bradley blamed that on the embarrassing situation he got himself in.

Max’s voice broke him out of his trance.

“Dude, what are you doing?” He asked, backing away from Bradley.

That’s when he realized… he was really cleaning Max off. Cleaning him off like a little bitch. Bradley quickly sprung up from his feet. Despite being a red, stuttering mess, he puffed up his chest, trying to regain himself even an ounce of dignity.

“Good luck cleaning those stains out of your ugly jeans…and- and that lame t-shirt, too, freshman!” Bradley snapped, poking his finger into Max's chest. He aggressively collected the soaked napkins and stacked the empty dispenser on his tray before storming off.

Max sarcastically spats out, “Wow, good one, Brad! Have ‘em add some whipped cream to my drink while you’re at it!” The words became fainter as Bradley further distanced himself, heading to the kitchen for another cinnamon oat milk latte. He hardly noticed the entire cafe staring at him, nor did he care.

~

The chaos of the rush surprisingly came to a halt sooner than usual. Bradley took a second to check his watch while he collected dirty dishes off the table. Twenty more minutes until he could leave. He had been jumping through hoops of taking orders, refilling drinks, cleaning tables, carrying heavy trays of food, and worst of all, seeing Max Goof, so it was an instant relief for him. With a tired smile, he gained a second wind, therefore he kept himself busy in order for the remaining time to fly by. Bradley cleaned off every one of his tables, except for number two. For some odd reason, he was putting it off, because even though they had gotten their food and left, he could still feel their energy linger around that area. He didn’t want to catch anything from those losers, after all. At the same time, though, he couldn’t have left that table looking like a mess. Bradley rubbed his eyes before walking over to the table, waiting to see all the dishes and trash to be in disarray, and no tip. Cheap bastards, he wagered. His expectations versus what he actually saw were on completely opposite ends of the spectrum, oddly enough. All the dishes were neatly stacked, with all the trash on top, and there were both copies of the tickets, both signed, along with a decent tip perfectly pinned under one of the empty glasses. Bradley grabbed the money first, of course, then his eyes trailed over to one of the tickets. He picked it up. It had messy handwriting on it that said:

“Thx for the whip! BRAD!” The nickname, which he very much detested, was underlined for emphasis.

What a child, he thought to himself.

Bradley then proceeded to stuff the ticket inside his pocket, as if somebody was forcing his hand to do so.

No matter what that Goof kid did, it always found a way to get under Bradley’s skin. Since the very first time he saw him, skateboarding down the street with his frisbee like the showoff he was, he felt a burning disdain towards him. It only intensified after he turned down his offer to join the Gammas. Then, after he mopped the floor with him at the X-Games, it became something more than dislike. Pure f*cking rage. Hatred.

Bradley was too deep in his thoughts to be present in the moment, as he grabbed his belongings and clocked out. From the combination of exhaustion and Max plaguing his mind, he was experiencing a sort of out-of-body experience. In the blink of an eye, he was suddenly outside, dropping his skateboard on the ground, rolling out. The cool breeze hitting his face started bringing him back down to Earth. He was heading back to the Gamma house, which gave him some clarity, too. Unfortunately, those factors weren’t enough to fully shake off this alienating feeling, so he ignored it the best he could.

When he finally made it to the Gammas house, he felt as if he released a breath of air, he didn’t know he was holding onto. Bradley wasted no time running inside and beelining straight to the kitchen. His plans of preparing himself a filling meal were foiled when he bumped into the back of a figure about ten times larger than him. The figure turned around, speaking in his usual low, raspy voice.

“Hey, baby watch it- Oh…hi,” Tank said flatly. Bradley nervously smiled.

“What’s up…uh, sweet..heart. How are classes?”

“Good.” That was all he said before lumbering into the living room. Bradley was left standing in the kitchen by himself. From just that interaction, he felt as if somebody dug their fingers into his heart and tore it apart. Tank and Bradley made up after their dispute over what happened at the X-Games, however their relationship was clearly tainted. Between the two of them, they went from being two peas in a pod, to barely speaking to each other for weeks. He still followed Bradley’s orders like a mindless drone, yet he no longer stuck up for him like the plus one he once was. No more goofing off while studying. No more late nights of movies and conversations. There was only thick tension and unspoken words that remained. The worst part was Bradley had nobody to blame but himself. Like his friendship, his appetite was gone as well, so he figured napping would be the best option.

Bradley slipped into his room, and stripped off his work clothes along with the smell that came with it. Not bothering to put on pajamas, he plopped on his bed only in underwear. All he could do was take deep breaths and stare blankly at the ceiling, waiting for his eyes to get tired. It became routine for him at this point. After each and every day, dragging a weight of shame and embarrassment behind him, while he pretended nothing was wrong, it eventually got draining. The second he had any time to himself, it’s like his brain just shut down. Sadly, it didn’t used to be like that.

It wasn’t like that before he met Max Goof.

He reached for his phone the second it buzzed, almost desperate for some outside stimuli to distract him. It was a text from his mother, Sheila Uppercrust. Bradley opened it up to see a picture of a doll house with a block of text underneath, which read:

“Hey baby! I just found this while cleaning and it made me miss you. Love you bunches.”

Bradley blinked a few times. He expanded the picture of the doll house and zoomed in, taking in each insignificant detail. It was all worn down, the colors of the factory paint were muddy, and some areas were on the verge of falling off. To tell her to throw that junk away already was tempting, but he couldn’t crush his mother like that.

They both knew it was about more than the doll house.

He typed up a short and sweet, “Love and miss you too. Gn.” The phone then rested on his bare chest. His blue eyes continued to be fixated on the ceiling, following all the texture lines. Bradley looked back down at his phone, looked up again, then at his chest. He grabbed his pecs and pushed them close together, as if he had breasts. There was barely any fat to make his chest even remotely look feminine. The phone slid down to his stomach. Followed with a soft snort, mildly amused at himself, he let go.

Given all the turmoil that had occurred in his life recently, and in general, he supposed, he wondered if it truly would have been easier to oblige to his mother’s wishes. Perhaps the discomfort of being her little girl would have outweighed how terrible he felt now. If he decided to stay a woman, and bury all the dysphoria deep down, where would he be right now?

Bradley put one of his pillows over his face. Regardless of “what ifs,” he knew he was far too gone, and even if he wanted to, he wholeheartedly knew that there was no turning back. Bradley Uppercrust III was a man. Always had, always would be. Seeing himself as anything otherwise would be a waste of time to consider.

Chapter 2: Peach

Chapter Text

Well, that’s what Bradley liked to think. Ironically enough, though, his brain worked the complete opposite.

Bradley stuffed a couple of the paper balls into his mouth, ensuring that each one was coated in his saliva. He nudged Tank, who was sitting to his left, as he held a straw he snagged from the cafeteria up to his mouth. Tank only gave him a half interested glance before he carried on with his notes. The self proclaimed “Frat King” paid no mind to him, however, because he had his attention on someone else.

Max Goof, who didn’t realize it yet, set himself up as the perfect target. He was sitting about three rows down. Although there was some distance, he was directly in front of him and in line of sight. It was almost like he was begging to get a bunch of spit balls shot at him! Bradley closed one of his eyes, and squinted the other, lining up a perfect shot that’d land right on the back of his neck. In highschool, he was known as being the “sniper,” because of his precision in shooting spitballs, so he made sure to hone in his skills from back in the day, especially if it was for Max. Anything to get a reaction out of that freshman.

“One shot, one kill,” he dramatically thought to himself, while he continued calculating the perfect time to seize his attack. Once he finally got the right angle, he took a deep breath, and just when he was about to blow out, Tank yanked the straw out of his mouth. Bradley whipped his head to the side, giving him both an annoyed and confused look.

He whispered harshly, “What the hell?!” The spit balls were still in his mouth, so he tucked them in the crevice of his cheek for now.

“Let it go,” Tank said in a low voice.

“Let it go? Tch, he’s just an easy target right now.” Bradley tried reaching for the straw, but Tank had the advantage over him, as his arms were far longer.

Tank chuckled, “I didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout anybody, baby.” The smaller man kept insisting on getting the straw back, therefore he chucked it across the room. As the faint sound of the straw dropped to the floor, Bradley slumped back into his seat, gritting his teeth.

“‘Didn’t say anything’...you implied it. You suddenly team Max cause he saved you one time ?” Bradley retorted. Tank shook his head, completely unphased by his jab. Unlike Bradley, both his body and face were relaxed. He made eye contact with him before replying:

“Nobody cares ‘bout losin’ the X-Games ‘anymore cept you. It’s embarrassin’.” Bradley, unable to think of a clever response, scoffed as he slipped out of his seat. He quietly made his way to the trash can, which was located near the entrance of the classroom, and spit out the paper. While he was heading back to his seat, he couldn’t help but glue his eyes onto Max. He was intently writing something down in his notebook. The fluorescent lights of the room reflected off of Max’s eyes, giving them sort of a copper tone to them, rather than black, like they usually are. Dark strands of hair fell in his face where it didn’t cover too much, but just the right amount to frame his features. The look he had showed nothing but pure focus, eyebrows tightly knit together, and the tip of his tongue set right in between the gap of his teeth. Bradley let out a light breath of air through his nose. He had never seen him make such an odd expression. Then, as it started to set in, his eyes narrowed, because despite how much of a dorky, and quite frankly, unflattering, quirk it was, Max still had girls in their class checking him out. Girls that used to have eyes on him.

Bradley knew he was one of the most attractive, confident and successful men on campus, so it completely puzzled him as to why women chose that over him. Even before the X-Games, he noticed that each day, less and less girls stopped grouping around the Gamma’s when they played volleyball, and instead approached Max. Bradley grunted while he sat back down, still staring at him. The only reasonable conclusion was that he had something Bradley didn’t, a concept that shook him to his core. To be fair, Max did have this certain, as silly as it sounded, swagger to him that he’d imagine would be appealing to some girls. He carried himself in a confident, yet still humble manner. A sweet, but sour energy exuded off of him. His style was relatively unconventional, walking around with sagging jeans and chains hanging off of them, along with a baggy graphic shirt. His dark, shaggy hair was fitting to his "skater" aesthetic. Not to mention, his weird stylistic choice of wearing jewelry like a girl was certainly...a decision. In Bradley’s opinion, his entire sense of fashion screamed: “I like men!” Yet, women still seemed quite drawn to it. Max was the most feminine-masculine guy Bradley had ever seen, and he pulled it off so well. Almost too well that it pissed him off by just looking at Max. What really set him off was the fact that sometimes he’d start getting hot at the sight. He would tell himself that summer was just around the corner, so that was most likely the reason, anyways.

Definitely not any other reason that Bradley has decided to take to his grave.

When it wasn’t his own bodily functions stirring up rage inside him, he was wondering how he himself would look in clothes like that. He’d then proceed to immediately shut those ideas down. Embarrassment welled up in his chest whenever those thoughts would occur. It’s not like he wanted to be him, or anything. That would imply that he was below Max, and there was simply no such thing. Yet again, he supposed there was no harm in considering rocking a pair of jeans instead of his signature khaki pants. Bracelets and painted nails, though? That was a different story. It’d be a cold day in hell before that happened. Although he’d occasionally break a couple rules, he made sure to not gettoo comfortable going out of line. He had a certain image to maintain. Unlike Max, who had the confidence and freedom to show who he was through every vessel of his life and being, without any fear of judgment. From his clothes to his friends, to his love for skating, he was so shamelessly himself. It made Bradley want to vomit.

“Bradley Uppercrust III!”

Assuming the professor was calling him to add to the class discussion, Bradley nonchalantly replied:

“Sorry, teach. I don’t know.” He was checking his nails as he spoke, further showcasing just how little he thought of the class.

She smacked her lips, “No, come down here! Since you clearly weren’t paying attention, we’re having one-on-one grade conferences.”

Bradley’s voice slightly cracked, “Oh- uh..yes, yes!” He shimmied his way out of his seat. Seeing this as an opportunity to butter up the professor for his own benefit, he held his shoulders straight and his chin up high and took confident strides down to her desk.

With his usual suave, buttery tone, he said, “I knew that, but thanks for the refresh. Class is great. Love whatcha do, professor, really.” He locked eyes with her, trying to get a read on whether his antics were working or not, but she kept a blank, neutral face on.

“Ahh, see. That’s how you know when a professor can teach! I bet all your students have excellent grades, don’t they? And it’s all thanks to you, of course,” Bradley said as he tried to make his smile appear genuine. The professor gave him a troubled look before opening up his grades. Without a word, she turned the computer screen to him, revealing that he, in fact, did not have straight A’s. He was actually on the verge of failing the class.

Alright, he had to put the manipulation tactics on overdrive. Bradley started his act by gasping and clutching his chest.

“Oh my! I am so sorry, professor! I’m truly, truly, truly , from the bottom of my heart, passionate about…history …or whatever, however I have been bombarded with so many extracurricular activities…it’s just overwhelming. You know, Gamma Mu Mu, X-Games, it’s a lot to juggle. So, if you could just tweak a couple things here n’ there, I’d greatly appreciate it!”

And scene.

She sucked her teeth, “Sorry Bradley, I can’t round up your grade. The only way you’ll be able to get by is if you pass the final with an A.”

“That’s in a week,” he replied

“Well, I’d suggest you start studying as soon as possible.”

Wow. All those years of binge-watching soap operas and musicals went to waste. Bradley dragged his feet back to his seat, ego bruised, and now concerned about his academics.

~

It was three more days before finals. Max felt the stress begin to build up. The reality of the semester ending was hitting him in the face. It being his first year of college, he felt the pressure to excel in all of his classes, as he wanted a good start for the next three years. There he sat, in the library, books and notes scattered across the entire table. Max let out a groan while he put his gloved hands in his face. His papers were just as disorganized as his mind. Although Max was completely burnt out from all the assignments, he had no choice but to power through the last few days. He yearned for the moment he had no obligations, except to lay in bed and nap for days.

Suddenly, a backpack being unzipped, along with notebooks slapped down on the table were heard to Max’s right. The once empty chair beside him was suddenly filled with another body. Out of all the people on campus, it was Bradley Uppercrust III who was seated. Max opened his mouth to say some witty one liner, attacking first before any nasty words came his way. But, when he saw Bradley open his notebook, not even acknowledge him, he decided to close his mouth and continue with his own studies. It was quite unlike Bradley to mind his own business, so Max couldn’t help but scramble his brain as to why he chose to sit by him. There had to be ulterior motives. It’s not like there weren’t plenty of other empty seats.The two of them pretended to be engrossed in their notes for about thirty minutes, until Bradley cleared his throat, looking over at Max expectantly. Max put his pencil down and wasted no time to glare at the other.

“Can I…help you?” he asked.

“Yes, you can,” was all Bradley said as he shoved his own notes over to Max.

Max scoffed, “Are you kidding? Do it yourself!” He pushed Bradley’s belongings back over to him, wrinkling up a few of the papers.

“Max, I’m serious. Help me,” Bradley replied, playing into the ‘back and forth’ they had going on by placing the notes in front of Max once again.

“Why should I?” Max spat out

Bradley leaned in a bit closer to Max. Being a smartass, he remarked, “You asked how you could help me. Did you not? It should be an honor that I’m coming to you.”

“An honor? I think you forgot that if I didn’t call off the deal, you’d be my towel boy right now!” Max kicked Bradley in the calf in order to make him back out of his personal space. Breathing out through his teeth, Bradley leaned back, concealing how badly the kick actually hurt. After he took a second to recover from the sting, he cleared this throat, and replied:

“You just got lucky, Goof!” Bradley stomped on Max’s foot, causing him to let out a yelp.

“Ow! sh*t!”

Bradley continued, “Besides, nobody cares about the X-Games except you! It’s kinda sad, really.” Max smugly snickered. It was now his turn to lean in.

“Oh please! That’s hilarious coming from someone who’s still butthurt about losing to a freshie!” As if it was choreographed, Max booped Bradley’s nose at the same time the word ‘freshie’ came out of his mouth. There was a flash of confusion in Bradley’s eyes as he flinched away, then he slapped the other’s hand away from his face. His cheeks began to redden.

“Don’t touch me! I don’t want to get contaminated!”

“Aww, little cooties never hurt anybody, Bradster-”

“It’s Bradley!” Max rolled his eyes. Getting under Bradley’s skin was too easy, not only that, but it gave him so much satisfaction. Seeing him go from having an uptight, “greater than thou” caliber, to being an angry, flushed mess made Max feel like he was on cloud nine. While Bradley started up another one of his spiels about how he was so superior to him, Max gazed into his blue-violet eyes, which were filled with the perfect concoction of fire and determination. Determination to get a reaction out of him. Or maybe prove himself, he supposed. He found his eyes slowly moving down the rest of his face, studying each detail. Having the opportunity of being so close to Bradley, Max began to understand one of the reasons why he was so popular. He had alluring features like his smooth lips, his perfectly styled hair, his button nose, his soft, yet still relatively defined jawline…huh, Bradley had freckles. How come Max never noticed that until just now? Anyways, Max knew that attractive people could get pretty far in life relying on their appearance alone, there was absolutely no denying that. Bradley had the looks that’d make him magnetic for those who put a bit too much value in aesthetics. He would have a good shot at becoming a model, too, if he didn’t dress like a grandpa, with his tacky sweater vests and khakis.

“It’s…history. I’m failing the class right now,” he replied.

“Oh? So, I’m better at skating and school. Seems like you’re about to get dethroned, “frat king!” Max never truly cared about “popularity” or any of the social hierarchy nonsense that was common in schools, but he knew Bradley practically revolved his world around it. He also knew the right things to say to get under his skin.

“That’s it!” Bradley exclaimed as he shot up from his seat, slamming his fists on the table. Max looked up at him with amusem*nt dancing in his eyes, stifling back laughter. He thought that if Bradley wasn't a jock, he'd definitely be a theatre kid, because his dramatics never failed to entertain him. If some pompous asshole was going to harass him for the entire year, he figured, why not get some enjoyment out of it?

“I want a rematch! Just you and me. Loser will be the other’s errand boy for all of next year!”

“You sure you wanna do that, Brad? This time, I won’t take pity on you by calling off the deal.”

“I think it’ll be you who will need the pity.”

Max now stood up, facing Bradley with nothing but confidence radiating off of him.

“Hah! Let me guess, you’re gonna cheat again? Well, gimme all you got, because I can still destroy you even with your little tricks!”

“No tricks. Just an ordinary competition at the Gamma House. Last day of school. 4 PM. Don’t be late, freshman.” Bradley held his hand out.

“Fine! I can’t wait to beat you twice!” Max grabbed Bradley’s hand, and with a firm hake, the deal was sealed.

Strangely enough, the adrenaline from new competition pumped up the two boys so much, they practically flew through their exams, and passed all of them with relative ease. Over the past few days, they did nothing but study, work and train. There was like a flame in his soul that had ignited, and after it being so dull since the X-Games, it felt great for it to have sparked back up.

Little did Max know that this time, however, things were going to pan out differently.

“The look on Brad’s face when you beat him again is gonna be priceless! Just priceless!” P.J. exclaimed as he caught up with Max and Bobby.

Bobby added, “After this I’m thinkin’ pizza, heh…” Max, who was leading the trio, smirked as he saw the Gamma house in the distance. In the yard, there seemed to be a gathering of other students, loud music, and a stand where there were snacks and refreshers available. He immediately snorted at the sight, because of course anything having to do with the royal majesty himself had to be some grand event. Anything to milk as much attention as possible, right? Once they got close enough, Bradley started sticking out like a sore thumb due to the fact he was the only one wearing red and black spandex athletic wear, along with his helmet and knee pads. The majority of the other students circled around him while he held his head up high and spoke, most likely about himself, to the crowd. They all seemed to latch onto every word that came out of his mouth. Max never understood the appeal. Bradley’s voice went from a sequence of faint murmurs to comprehensible words when the three of them finally got close enough, merging into the crowd themselves. Max bullied his way through the front of the pit, where he got a closer look at Bradley. His back was turned towards him as he was talking to three girls, who were fawning over him. He wasn’t wearing the same suit he had on during the X-Games. It was of similar colors, and fabric, but it was a tank top and pair of shorts, rather than long sleeves and pants. Bradley typically wore clothes that hid some of some of his figure, so seeing him wear something that hugged every square inch of his toned body caught Max by surprise

“At times, it’s quite difficult to be a professional athlete…” Max heard him say amongst the chatter of everybody else. Upon listening to that one phrase alone, he rolled his eyes so hard that they could’ve ended up stuck in the back of his head. He continued watching, debating on whether to wait to be noticed, or go up there and make his presence known. As he observed, he found that Bradley always used his entire body whenever he talked: the over-the-top hand gestures and the way he subtly swayed his hips as he shifted his weight.

The way he swayed his hips. Damn…

Wait, what?!

Max shook his head to get rid of those intrusive thoughts. In an attempt to forget that something of that nature crossed his mind, he darted his eyes to everywhere but Bradley, yet he still somehow found himself catching the other in the corner of his eyes. He gave up on that idea quite quickly, therefore all he did was stand there, frozen. Max knew he should look away and approach Bradley to begin the competition, but something inside him was screaming at him not to. The longer he looked, the quicker he realized that everything about the sight before him was too much.

Bradley had the demeanor of a majestic, wild stallion. From his stance alone, there was no questioning that he was full of pride, and everybody else just watched in awe. Max even started to find himself becoming enthralled. The tightness of his tank top outlined every contour of his back muscles, and the dark article of said clothing contrasted with his sun kissed skin so perfectly. It was already damp with sweat, giving his skin a glossy, hydrated appearance. The summer breeze blew through his long, brunette hair. His arms and legs were the perfect combination of slender and muscular. And, my god, that ass. Max nearly left his mouth hanging wide open. His short shorts accentuated every curve and valley of his bum. The first thought that came to him was how it was firm, plump like a ripening fruit, practically begging to get picked. Like a peach. Suddenly, he craved to sink his teeth into one, feeling the skin of it break through, before his mouth was filled with a sweet, juicy sensation which brought nothing but pure ecstasy. How he wanted it all to himself to devour, until there was nothing left but the pit, ignited a grimy, shameful, and lustful feeling inside him. Along with millions of other emotions he’d have to unpack later.

It was too late when Max realized he got too comfortable staring. As if everything happened in slow motion, a couple of his peers noticed Max’s presence before Bradley did, so they tapped his shoulder and pointed him out. Bradley turned his head to see his rival, who seemed to have his head in the clouds. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, his tongue barely poking out, touching his front teeth. Already geared up and ready to go, he skated over to him in his roller blades. Max’s throat began to close up. The music and sounds of other’s voices began to get drowned out by the relentless beating of his heart. It was all he heard for a brief moment, until Bradley leaned in his ear.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer, Goof.” Bradley’s breath was warm and thick. It left a tingling sensation in his ear, which traveled down his sensitive neck. He nearly shuddered. Then, like a reflex, he pushed Bradley away.

“Shove off, Brad!” Max forced himself out of the pit, then found a curb to sit on. He threw his back bag on the grass as he plopped onto the hot concrete.

“What the f*ck was that, Max?” was the only thought racing in his mind as he scrambled for his rollerblades in the bag. There was an overwhelming number of emotions brewing inside him. The only word he could describe them as were ‘heat.’ Whether it was from the sun, or embarrassment, or…whatever Bradley did to him just now, he didn’t care, all he knew was that he felt like he was about to boil over. Or explode. Right now, he wasn’t exactly opposed to the second idea. He felt so exposed, like everybody knew what he was thinking, and they were now judgmentally studying him under a microscope. Any slight movement was wrong, it seemed.

“Ayeee Maxerino!” Bobby ran over to Max. Seeing his friend sit beside him with a wide smile on his face, he felt like he could relax a bit. At least he didn’t see what happened, or perhaps he did, and just simply didn’t care.

“W-what’s up, Bobby? Where’s P.J.?” Max, with his back bag on his lap, pretended to struggle to undo the laces of the skates. There was…a problem in his trousers that he wouldn’t be caught dead being seen with. He hoped and prayed that the more time he stalled, the quicker it would begin to go down. While it was like a breath of fresh air to see Bobby, his presence during that very moment further complicated everything.

“Went off with his girl. You excited?”

“Y-yeah! For sure…Bradley, he- um…doesn’t stand a chance! Heh…”

Max smirked, “You’re right. It’ll be like taking candy from a baby!” He felt a gleam of hope, and with that, he quickly slipped on his gear.

~

Max and Bradley stood on the sidewalk directly in front of the Gamma house, whereas everybody else stayed in the yard, anticipating for the race to finally begin. The way it was going to work was that Bradley and Max would skate around the entire stretch that wrapped around the campus. To go around completely took about 5 miles, which was about 30-45 minutes, depending on the speed at which one skated. Whoever made it back to the Gamma house first won, leaving the loser to essentially be the other’s slave for an entire year.

The last thing Max wanted to do was to give Bradley that satisfaction. He furrowed his brows with determination as they bent down, getting into position to take off. While the “referee” (it was one of the Gamma brothers) stood to the side, counting down with his powerful voice through a megaphone, Bradley lightly elbowed Max’s bicep to quickly grab his attention. He had a cheeky smirk plastered on his face, along with his blue eyes being hooded, almost bedroom-like. He slowly licked his supple bottom lip, leaving a shine of saliva behind, before saying in a dulcet, sing-song tone:

“Try and keep up, Maxxie~”

“GO!” The referee screamed so loud it caused a nasty audio feedback, which in turn produced high-pitched, distorted sound, rather than a word, really. Regardless, Bradley immediately darted off on queue. On the other hand, Max was so discombobulated due to the combination of Bradley, and the sudden noise, that when he tried to take off, he only fell flat on his face. From the crowd there were both cheers, for Bradley, and groans, for Max. Bobby rushed over to him and lifted him up by his under arms.

“Go, my dude! Ya can still winnn!” The ginger yelled as he pushed Max, giving him the proper momentum to start catching up with his opponent. From Bradley being only a small spec in the distance, to being neck and neck with him, Max fought with every fiber in his being to keep his head in the game. It wasn’t a physical strain, either, but a mental one.

Maxxie

Maxxie

Maaaxxxieeee…

The only thing that echoed in his mind was that stupid pet name. Maxxie. Max recalled the last time he was referred to as such, which was when he and his high school girlfriend, Roxanne were together. Over the past couple (unfortunate) semesters of knowing each other, Bradley had never called him such a demeaning nickname, nor spoke to him in a voice sweet like honey. Bradley was a worm that was slowly wriggling its way further into his brain by the second. Did he know what Max was thinking about earlier? Was he using that to his advantage to get into his head? Or was it just a coincidence? There was no possible way Bradley was that intelligent with reading people, or so calculated with his words. Right?

One thing he did know, however, was how conceited Bradley was. If anybody even gave him a slight glance, he’d probably think they wanted to get into bed with him. Therefore, he must’ve just assumed that Max was checking him out, when he absolutely wasnot. After winning the race, he could easily do some damage control if Bradley brought it up. Max began to recite witty comebacks in his mind, fabricating some script like they were in a movie:

“No way, Brad! If I was into men, you wouldn’t be my type!”

“Why? You wanted me to eye f*ck you or something, Bradie- No, Braddy Waddy? Uh- Bradatron?”

“Yeah, well Brad-”

Like a shockwave, Max was thrusted out of his fantasies of completely owning “Bradatron '', as he skated through an already broken ribbon. Max’s eyes went wide and his body slouched. He had to brace himself from falling to his knees in pure disbelief. With cries of victory, everybody bombarded Bradley, who was already being a tool, by bowing like a dorky theater kid at the end of a play. Except for Bobby, P.J. and his girlfriend, Serena, of course.

“I’m sorry, Max,” P.J. said softly, resting a hand on Max’s shoulder. Bobby clicked his tongue, then got on the other side of Max to wrap his arm around him.

“You still the sh*t, though, my dude. f*ck Bradley!” he exclaimed, poking his finger into Max’s chest. All Max did was stare ahead, until the same voice that called him “Maxxie” hit his ears and brought him back to his terrible reality.

“Aww, Max. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk…I told you that the X-Games was only luck, buddy,” Bradley said as he wiped his forehead off with a towel and tossed it to Max, but it only fell to the ground.

Max choked out, “Yeah, well, you-” then immediately went quiet. What was he supposed to say? The only reasonable thing he could do in that situation was to lay his head low and accept his defeat. It didn’t help that Bradley approached him just to rub it in his face. So typical of Uppercrust.

“But, hey! On the bright side, there’s plenty of food over there. I’m sure losing so badly builds up an appetite, yeah? There’s some delicious peach cobbler, too.” Max subconsciously shot his gaze up to Bradley at the mention of the word peach. In fact, it was the only part he really heard.Bradley was holding a sample sized cup of the desert. Max’s eyes became fixed on the act of him scooping up a chunk of peach and vanilla ice cream, then shoveling it into his mouth. Despite being at a distance, he could practically hear the juicy crunch of the fruit. A little drop of vanilla was left in the corner of his mouth, so with his thumb, he wiped, then licked it off.

f*ck. Max started to feel that heat pool up in his core again.

‘W-whatever! Come on, guys!” was all Max could croak out, before he quickly left the scene with P.J., Bobby and Serena.

Surrounded by his friends, who were showering him with condolences, Max had a feeling that he had a storm of complicated feelings, and restless nights, ahead of him.

Chapter 3: Projection

Chapter Text

In a dimly lit hallway, Max stumbled while he felt for the wall, attempting to guide both himself and the girl who drunkenly latched onto him. She leaned on his side as her arms were loosely wrapped around his neck. With everything spinning, and the vibrations of the muffled music under his feet, he had no idea how he managed to get to an empty bedroom. Once he closed the door behind them, she pushed him onto the bed, wasting no time to ravage his lips.

f*ck, he let her, too. In that moment, he’d probably do whatever she said.

Between the soft warmth of her lips, and the wetness of their tongues exploring each other’s mouths, Max couldn’t help but melt into the contact. He let out a soft moan from the back of his throat, then curled his toes when she started sucking on his bottom lip, flicking her tongue against his sensitive snakebite piercings. His hands began to travel up her shirt, where his fingertips met with the hook of her bra. Naturally, Max began to undo it while he left gentle pecks on her cheek, which eventually traveled down to her neck. She bucked her hips against his crotch, letting out breathy moans of his name.

“Max~ Oh, Max~” she breathed out in his ear. This further encouraged him to start sucking and nibbling on her throat. As he was doing so, he couldn’t help but think about how ecstatic he was at that very moment. Due to last year’s sh*t show with his dad, and Bradley , he never was able to get the opportunity to go to any college parties, nor find hot chicks to hook up with. He was so touch deprived, the sound of her moaning out his name from what was barely foreplay could have made him finish in his pants right then and there.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Max thought to himself, “Meh, probably one of those drunk assholes trying to find some place to crash at. Whatever. They’ll leave in a minute.”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Continuing to ignore the obnoxious knocking outside the door, he smiled into the kiss as he finally undid her bra. Max moved his hands to her breasts, even though the straps of the bra still hung off her arms. He didn’t care though, he just needed to feel her bare skin. The more she moaned his name, the more her voice began to distort. It gradually turned into a deeper, masculine pitch with every syllable.

“Max~ Max, Max! MAX! MAX, OPEN THE DOOR NOW!”

Thrusted out of that sweet, sweet, reality, Max shot up from his bed, utterly startled from the sudden booming voice. He took a moment to scan his surroundings. Disappointment weighed down on him as he realized he wasn’t at a college party, hooking up with a girl, but instead in his bedroom. He glanced at the time, it was 12:45 PM. The realization of that hot, steamy scene of him with that bombshell was only a dream automatically put him in a nasty mood.

The muffled voice from the outside yelled, “Max, you better not be ignoring me! I know you’re in there!” Upon figuring out who interrupted his slumber, Max groaned as he rubbed his temples.

It was no other than Bradley. f*cking. Uppercrust.

Max snapped, “I’m coming! I’m coming! For f*ck’s sake…” He rolled out of bed, then lazily walked over to the door, sliding his socks on the hard ground. Max harshly swung the door open, not afraid to show Bradley his irritation.

“Jeez, what do you want?!”

Bradley stood before him with a hamper full of laundry, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor. He looked like he had already started his day, wearing a white button up, khakis and a pink sweater wrapped around his shoulders. Clean cut, and put together, he was, unlike Max, who had a rats nest for hair and was only wearing gray sweatpants. His face was greasy and he had crusty boogers in the corner of his puffy eyes, whereas Bradley was perfectly groomed, as per usual. Max imagined Bradley being the only person in the world to wake up every morning with no imperfections.

“Are you seriously just now waking up? It's almost 1!” He hissed while he shoved the hamper in Max’s arms, making him stumble back a bit due to the force.

Max shook his head, “Dude…it’s Saturday! Do you seriously have nothing else better to do?” Bradley raised an eyebrow, judgmentally looking Max up and down, lips parted as if he had a spiteful comment ready to go. When his blue eyes scanned below the hamper, they immediately shot back up to his chest as they went completely wide. His lips quickly pursed soon after. He then took a double take, followed by visibly cringing from disgust. A blush began to form on his cheeks.

“You uh… gonna do something about…that first?” Bradley said slowly, gesturing to the obvious tent in Max’s pants. Max looked down, and jumped at the sight. In a moment of panic, he immediately slammed the door, placing his back against it. Of all the years of having morning wood, and today was the day that he’d forget that it existed! That was just perfect!

“Aww, somebody’s happy to see me,” Bradley joked through the door with a smug laugh.

Max snorted, his voice cracking as he said, “I’m sorry, what?! I’m not the one checking out other dude’s boners!” He dropped the hamper to the side.

“Well, you- Uh, I-” A lump began to grow in Bradley’s throat. Max could hear the very moment that he realized his “joke” backfired terribly. Since he now had the upper hand, he decided to give another blow and say:

“Coming all this way over some laundry seems strange. You coulda called. I think you just wanted to see me, Bradster~” His words came out shaky, because it took everything in him not to roll over and laugh.

Bradley replied with a heated, “Shut up, freshman!” before he went on his way. Max heard his footsteps, and knowing he was leaving, he poked his head out and yelled:

“Not a freshman! I’m a sophom*ore, dumbass!”

Bradley yelled back, his voice echoing in the hall, “Once a freshman, always a freshman!”

Max covered his mouth and chuckled from Bradley’s ridiculous comment. Playing into the childish banter between them, he replied:

“You were a freshman once, too! So, I guess that makes us even! Freshman!” Max mockingly said ‘freshman’ in the best impression of Bradley he could muster. That’s when Bradley stopped in his tracks and turned around. Fire was ablaze in his eyes, so he knew he was in trouble. With clenched fists, he marched back to Max’s room with determination. Feeling a sense of playful fear, Max giggled as he started to emerge back into his room. With Bradley’s luck, though, he made it just in time to grab the half-closed door and swing it wide open. Max was met with the freckled, red face of Bradley. His thick, bushy eyebrows, along with the corners of his mouth, formed an expression of pure displeasure. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t throw profanities Max’s way. He just aggressively spat out:

“I need you to get my mail, as well! Before this evening comes, don't be late like you were with the laundry!” Max couldn't help but let out a laugh, due to the absurd juxtaposition of his harsh tone, but relatively casual request.

“Okay, okay, you psycho! I’ll get your stupid mail!” Max said as he tried to close the door, but Bradley put his foot in the way.

He said with a fierce look in his eyes, “I’m serious, Max! Give it to me by 5:30 sharp. No earlier, no later. I’ll be at the dining hall, so bring it to me there.” Max gave an exaggerated bow.

“Yes, my liege. 5:30. Dining hall. Anything else-” Bradley, always wanting to get the “last word,” interrupted Max by slamming the door in his face. After Bradley left the dormitory, everything fell completely silent. Max was now alone with his thoughts. With his back against the door again, he looked over at the basket of dirty laundry.

Those f*cking shorts were neatly laid on top of the pile. The same shorts Bradley wore at their race, and the cause of him losing in the first place. Max felt his stubborn boner twitch in his loose sweatpants. Being overcome with dirty thoughts, he slowly reached for them with his index and pointer fingers, then lifted them at level with his face. Wonders of where he had been in those shorts, and how many people checked him out clouded his mind. Something about having access to all those “lived in” articles of clothing was so intimate. Those feelings fueled by pure horniness came to a halt, because he realized how much of a creep he was acting, so he threw them back in the hamper in disgust. Mostly towards himself. Max could only imagine how Bradley would react if he found out all the things that went through his mind. He wiped his hands off on his pants, and decided to go take a shower to forget about Bradley, and his stupid sexy shorts.

~

5:00 PM seemed to creep up out of nowhere. To be fair, though, after Max showered and got dressed, he spent the rest of his day getting high and playing video games with Bobby and P.J. Time would fly by fast when you were being a couch potato. Max sighed as he walked out of the building to his dorm room. He plugged his earbuds in and began to skate to the campus mailboxes. The last thing he wanted to do on a Saturday evening was to get bossed around by the little priss himself, Bradley. But, a deal was a deal. He had the entire summer to debate on what to do, and he figured that simply manning up and taking the abuse was the most noble option.

It had been about two months into his sophom*ore year, and Bradley was still occupying the majority of the experience. A part of him hated him for it, and there was another part that didn’t quite mind it. After butting heads with somebody for so long, and having a routine bicker session with them, he started to sort of enjoy his company. Talking to Bradley was the only aspect that was remotely entertaining, ushering to fulfill his every little request was certainly not. Once he made it to the mailboxes, Max wasted no time searching for Bradley’s. They were all sorted in alphabetical order from last name. He looked over each individual locker starting with “U.”

“Uppercrust…Uppercrust…Uppercrust…annndd there!” With a copy of Bradley’s keycard that was given to him, he placed it against a small scanner on the door, which unlocked the mailbox. It instantly opened itself to reveal a package, and a few envelopes neatly stacked on top of it. Max proceeded to pull out the box, but being as clumsy and stoned as he was, he accidentally let a few of the envelopes slide out of his arms, gently landing on the concrete ground.

“Dammit…” he muttered as he positioned the package under one of his arms in order to bend down. He picked up the remaining pieces of mail with his free hand, until he got to the last one, which happened to be perfectly facing the front side up. Initially not thinking too much about it, Max picked it up with plans to hurry out of there, however, his eye couldn’t help to catch both an unexpected, and unfamiliar name on it:

Eloise Rose Uppercrust

At first, Max reasonably assumed it was a family member of Bradley’s that sent him a card, therefore his hand started to lower the envelope down with the rest of them. Upon further inspection, however, he stopped himself in the midst of realizing that the mysterious name was put as the recipient’s. Max raised an eyebrow as he flipped it over on the back. He wasn’t expecting further information on that side, it was more so a gesture done out of confusion. Or curiosity? Dread? His stomach began to churn as if he was nervous, yet he didn’t have any other symptoms, such as a flushed face, rapidly beating heart, racing thoughts. Max wasn’t sure how to describe the feeling other than that his gut was telling him something was off. He desperately tried to grasp at straws; maybe it was a simple writing mistake? No, there’s one thing to misspell a name, carelessly mix up a couple letters, but to put a completely different name down, let alone a female name, on accident, is not realistic whatsoever. Perhaps Bradley had a twin sister on campus that he’s miraculously never seen? Yeah, with how egotistical the guy was, there would be no way a female version of him would be some shy bookworm who blended in with the crowd! Curiosity got the best of Max. He closed up the locker, and placed all of Bradley’s belongings on a bench directly across from the mailboxes. In hopes of finding an answer that made sense to him, he leafed through the rest of the envelopes.

Bradley Uppercrust III

Bradley Uppercrust III

Bradley Uppercrust…

Bradley…

Max’s eyes desperately darted to each paper over, and over, and over again. The normalcy of everything but that one envelope further spiraled him into confusion. As the bizarreness of it all began to set in, the saliva in Max’s mouth dried up, the opening in his throat clenched down so tightly, he felt he needed to cough, or gasp for a breath of air, but he knew there would be no relief to gain from doing either. Although he had a vague idea of what was up, Max wasn’t going to get any relief in general unless he got a clear, sensible answer. Faint footsteps were suddenly echoing in the distance. Like a criminal being hounded down by the police, Max hurriedly gathered Bradley’s mail, and skated away from the premises as quickly as possible.

Amongst the moving, blurry blobs of colors that resembled other students, Bradley was the only one Max could see clearly in the cafeteria. He was sitting with another Gamma at a table, laughing and smiling, oblivious to the fact that Max knew something he shouldn’t have. Max felt that he was having an out of body experience, as he started to move one foot in front of the other, over to Bradley. It didn’t take long for Bradley to notice Max approaching their table. With a simple hand gesture, he dismissively shooed his minion away, to which he obeyed at the drop of a dime, then held Max’s gaze with that usual arrogant aura to him. Once Max got close enough to the table, right across from Bradley, he only stared at him with a blank, yet lost look in his eyes. Bradley tilted his head slightly, then one of his eyes twitched.

“Looks like you just saw a ghost. Was getting some mail really that hard for you?” he quipped.

Max couldn’t hold it back. It was as if the word clawed its way out of his throat, then bullied its way through his teeth and lips. Demanding attention. Demanding to be acknowledged.

He choked out, “E-Eloise—”

“Aww, you got a little crush, and you’re running to me for advice. That’s so pathetic, it’s almost cute–”

“ You’re Elosie, aren’t you?”

Bradley’s face twisted into a look as if he went through all seven stages of grief in the snap of a finger. He let out a nervous huff as he ran his fingers through his chestnut hair. Suddenly, it looked frazzled, rather than neatly combed down like it always was. Bradley’s face was pale, but despite that, he laughed again, except more confidently this time.

“Max, come on. What are you on? My name is Bradley. Bradley Uppercrust III.” Max dropped the mail on the table, leaned forward, and held up the envelope with the odd name on it.

“Why was this in your mailbox, then?” Bradley briefly looked over it before he snatched the envelope, looked to his left, then his right, and leaned in as well. The tips of their noses were an inch apart from touching. Between bared teeth, Bradley lowly growled:

“Why are you going through my sh*t, f*cker?!” Although he asked him an open-ended question, he quickly bolted away, not even bothering to grab the rest of his mail, or his backpack. Max was right behind him, though, leaving the things as well.

“Well, maybe don’t have other people go get your stuff if you got something to hide, Eloise Rose!” Max retorted. Bradley continued walking, not saying a word, which was quite out of character for him. That further confirmed Max’s suspicion. He, who was also not being his usual laid-back self, was determined to get a proper confrontation.

Max continued, “That’s why you’re never in the men’s locker room, isn’t it?! I’ve also never seen you go use the men’s bathroom before!” It was as if Max was speaking to a brick wall. Bradley didn’t budge to turn around, or give any other physical queue to indicate that what he was saying was registering in his brain. All he did was storm through the hallway, not having any particular destination. Just wanting a way out of the one-sided conversation. Max began to let the words spill out of his mouth, not considering any consequences.

“I can’t believe, you, of all the f*cking people in this world , are secretly a chick! With all the sh*t you say about “liberals,” and– and being the little poster boy for Lakewood, you’d think you would be just a normal dude. Hah! What? Were you an ugly girl, so you decided to switch teams, or something? Well, point is you’re a liar, and a phony! Too scared to be real—” The unexpected force of Bradley’s shove sent Max flying down to the ground. Due to the harsh impact, he could already feel the soreness of his hip bones for later. He looked up at Bradley. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and his lips were rolled up so tightly, there was only a slightly downturned line that represented his mouth.

In between sniffs, Bradley spat out, “You don’t know anything about me, you f*cking asshole! The deal is off! Don’t ever talk to me, or even look at me, again!” He then walked off, leaving Max on the floor, who was completely dumbfounded by the entire situation. A couple students were staring at him, already whispering in each other’s ears to gossip, speculating what happened. Max slowly got up, bringing the envelope along. He became insecure from all the eyes on him, so he slouched down and walked the other direction. Although Bradley had only been a pain in the ass for him, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. Maybe he took things too far.

~

On the way back to the Gamma house, Bradley had plenty of time to emotionally recover from the humiliating conversation with Max. Well, “recover” enough to show his face to his brothers and have them not suspect anything. As Bradley stood at the front door, he had his hand clutching the knob, but not turning it. A part of him was hesitant to walk inside, because he knew they all were going to be lounging on the couch. Right there for them to talk to Bradley as soon as he walked inside.

He had no other choice, though. If he didn’t show up, that would be even more suspicious. With a deep breath, Bradley walked inside to see all of their heads turning.

In a cheerful tone, he said, “Heyyy, Gammas! Watching the game?” He went over to sit on the couch, getting a better view of the football game on the TV. Slouch, who happened to be beside him, playfully punched him in the shoulder while he asked:

“Where you been, boss? You was ‘posed to be here when it started!” Bradley let out a dry chuckle, before replying:

“Well, if you all must know, Max is no longer my errand boy,” he said.

Slouch groaned, “Aww man! Dat means I’m the errand boy again, ain’t it?” Tank, who sat on a loveseat sofa to the right of the couch, looked at Bradley with furrowed brows before he asked:

“What happened, baby?” Bradley swallowed thickly, and strummed his fingers on his lap, both actions which he knew Tank observed. That made Bradley nervous, because, for the most part, he could see through him unlike anybody else was capable of.

Bradley laughed, “Oh, do I have a story for you, boys!” He strategically wrapped his arm around Slouch’s shoulders, in order to show the guys that he was “relaxed.”

“So, you all know that loser as Max, right? Well, get this: he—”

The words quickly died on his tongue. He what? Found out one of his deepest, darkest secrets from a stupid letter? No, there was absolutely no way he was going to out himself so blatantly.

His brothers watched him expectantly, which only added more pressure onto Bradley. Impetuously, he let the first thing that came to mind slip out:

“He tried to kiss me. ”

After a couple seconds of silence that felt painstakingly long, an explosion of laughter erupted from the Gammas, except Tank, who only had a skeptical look plastered on his meaty face. After giving them a minute, and giving himself time to fabricate his story, Bradley moved to the middle of the living room, treating the carpet placed at the center like a spotlight. He held his hand up, like a politician about to give a speech, in order to give them all a signal to continue paying attention to what he was saying. The laughter died down.

“Now, you may be wondering what led up to that, right? Well, heh…it was this morning, I was going to his dorm to drop some laundry off for him to do. I knock, he answers and– just from the sight of me alone, he gets a hard on! Since it was, er…right in my face, I looked down to call him out but…I guess he took that as a green light and…oh my god, it was hilarious, go in with a smooch! So, I pushed him away! Then! Then! Later, he came up to me, trying to profess his love. I told him no, obviously, called off the deal, and here’s the best part: I shoved him to the ground, so he really got the message! What a freak, am I right?!”

Similar to waves and ripples of an ocean on a windy day, the laughter came back ten-fold. Slouch rolled off the couch and onto the floor, holding his stomach in the fetal position as he wheezed. The others were in tears, completely forgetting about the fact their favorite football team just won. They added onto the bit, making hateful, yet corny jokes pertaining to Max and his sexual orientation. Bradley, doing what he did best, relished in all the attention. He was doing a mental headcount of who all he had fooled, until his eyes became fixated on Tank. He was looking right back at him with a straight face. Bradley’s “high” from external validation quickly burnt out when Tank shook his head in disappointment, stood up, then, without saying a word to the rest of the gang, went upstairs. Watching Tank, Bradley let out a nervous laugh, and despite the rest of the Gammas being in hysteria and paying no mind, he softly said:

“Be right back, guys.” He darted upstairs to luckily catch Tank. He was in the midst of closing his door until Bradley stood before him.

“So, you’re siding with Max once again ,” Bradley snarled, making Tank stop in his tracks. He didn’t say a word, only continued to look at him with that disappointed expression. It made Bradley rock his body side to side out of discomfort. An awkward silence developed between them, until Tank finally broke it.

“You ain’t Bradley no more.”

Bradley scoffed, “What?” Tank sighed, shaking his head as he leaned on the frame of his door.

“Face it, baby, none of this is you. I’ve known ya since the 8th grade, and I can tell ya right now, this prissy, mean boy act ya got goin’ on is fake. It’s been fake.”

“We were thirteen in 8th grade, Tank. People change. It’s not my fault you’re still stuck in the past.”

Tank shrugged, “Maybe ya right, sweetheart. Could be out growin’ each otha. One thing I do know, though, is that the old you woulda never gave a sh*t about the Gammas, or that Max kid ya talk about so much. Old Bradley didn’t give a damn about what other people thought. The only thing he woulda liked was the X-Games, but…come on, they ain’t gonna let us compete this year. Not afta the crap ya pulled last time.”

“ Crap I pulled?! You were a part of the cheating just as much as everybody else!”

“I ain’t talkin’ bout that, Bradley. You practically left Max n’ I to die in that fire so you could win. If you wasn’t so self absorbed, you’d know how much that tainted the Gamma reputation as a team . But nah, having ya ‘little fan girls’ and ya ‘little yes mans’ that only use you for parties, or cause they think you pretty, is more important to you, ain’t it sweetheart? Get ya head outcha ass and see that I’m the only one at this f*ckin’ school that actually liked you at one point! For who you actually are!”

Bradley coldly laughed, “Oh please! Do you know who I am? I’m the king. Everybody adores me! You’re just jealous because you’ve always been known as the fat loser that just hovers around me, living in my shadow! If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be where you are right now!” Bradley gradually raised his voice as he shoved Tank, who barely budged.

“Yeah? And I guess under all that hairspray n co*ckiness, ya just a sad lil’ child that can’t accept himself, makin’ up stories n’ talkin’ bad ‘bout your own people, like Max.” Red specs began to frame Bradley’s vision, as those words hit his ears, and his heart, like a sucker punch. From what happened with Max earlier, Bradley was already a kettle on the verge of boiling over, so that comment was the last thing that pushed him over the edge. Flipping like a switch, Bradley shoved Tank again, only this time he slightly stumbled back, and yelled at the top of his lungs:

“Like Max? Like MAX?! I’M NOT A fa*gGOT LIKE MAX!” In a fit of rage, he began to knock over Tank’s dresser, yank clothes out of the closet, and tear posters off the wall. Bradley was a tornado going through his room, not leaving a single thing untouched.

“Baby, hey—” The smaller man got into Tank's face, his eyes wide, pupils like dots, looking completely unhinged.

“AS FAR AS I’M CONCERNED, YOU’RE KICKED OUT OF THE GAMMAS! GET YOUR sh*t AND GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” He raised a clench fist to strike Tank, however, despite that one may believe otherwise, he had cat-like reflexes, so before he endured such an assault, he grabbed Bradley’s wrist and held it down. Bradley tried to wriggle out of his grip, but to no avail.

“LET GO OF ME, TANK! I’M NORMAL! I’M A NORMAL MAN WITH A NORMAL LIFE! I’M NOT ONE OF THEM! I’M NOT!” Bradley became hysterical. His face was beet red from his loud, shrill yells, causing the rest of the Gammas to check out what was happening at the end of the stairs. He tried using his other hand to hit him, yet he only got the same result as the first time. Tank forcefully contorted Bradley’s arms so he was turned around, and his arms were pinned against his back. At that point, any of Bradley’s dignity, or masculinity, went right out the window, because no matter how much strength he used to break free, it felt as if he was being held down with arms made of steel, rather than flesh. That didn’t stop him from thrashing and kicking in the midst of his tantrum, though.

“L-LET GO OF ME! YOU’RE HURTING ME! IT HURTS!” Tank, being calm and composed, collected all of Bradley and took him out of his room. Once he let go, Bradley tried to pounce, but he held his arm out to keep distance.

“I’ll pack my things tomorrow and go to the office to get ‘nother room. It was nice knowin’ ya, Bradley, really.” Tank closed his door and locked it. Bradley stiffly stood there, his eyes staring through the door with a thousand-yard stare, while he started to cool off. His chest was hollowing out due to the emotional numbness, and his temples were throbbing from screaming. He slowly turned around to see the others, still standing at the end of the stairs, staring at him in disbelief. With what was let of his now hoarse voice, Bradley yelled:

“Mind your own business and go to bed!” Bradley stomped into his room and made sure to slam the door with all of the remaining energy he had left, causing a booming sound to travel all throughout the house. When he was finally alone, the first place he went was his mini fridge, where there was a bottle of vodka sitting inside, patiently waiting to be cracked open. Bradley snatched the bottle, twisted the cap, and tipped it up with no consideration for having a chaser nearby. It took about four gulps until the harsh bitterness of the liquor assaulted his taste buds and throat. He coughed and gagged into his arm, nearly spilling some of the drink while he placed it on a nearby desk. Bradley internally thanked himself that it was cold, because the vodka was so thick, he could feel the moment it landed in his stomach. His body shuddered at the thought of it being hot, or even room temperature. In that case, he would’ve thrown it back up instantly. While his body was adjusting to the alcohol, he leaned against the same desk he placed the bottle on. A sheet of paper on the wooden surface captured his attention, so he gently slid it over to his line of sight. There was writing on it that said:

Thx for the whip BRAD!

It was the ticket Max left behind from when he served him and his friends that one time. A small smile pulled at the corner of Bradley’s lip, then it went away, as he bawled up the ticket and threw it in a nearby trash can. Although the incident where he spilled coffee on Max was about a year ago, it still puzzled him as to why he kept the note, and why he felt fuzzy inside whenever he saw it. That day was completely humiliating! Why would he want a reminder? However, depending on how one looked at it, he supposed that it was amusing, despite it being at his expense. Typically, he didn’t find situations that weren’t in his favor funny. Bradley always had to be the one punching down, never up. Perhaps he’d be happier if he stopped taking himself so seriously. Max and his friends never did, after all, and they seemed to always have a good day whenever they were together.

Dammit, Goof was finding his way into Bradley’s mind again.Since they first met, it became a daily occurrence that happened more than he’d like to admit. Not only that, but the rate at which Max crossed his mind only multiplied as time went on. Sometimes, it’d get to a point where it was all consuming, reaching every nook and cranny of his brain until it was practically morphed into being Max shaped.

To make his thoughts go quiet for once, he braced himself to take another swig of the vodka. And another. Another. Each time, it began to go down easier, and his head started to feel both light and heavy at the same time. His vision slightly blurred. With weaky, heavy eyelids, Bradley looked up at the mirror which came with the vanity set he had his body resting against. The person looking back was tired, worn, and infested with bitterness. He had eye bags that suited the hardened look in his blue eyes. Whether it was from the alcohol, or genetics, or a combination of both, Bradley noticed how much he started to resemble his father, and it sickened him to his core.

Growing up, Bradley Uppercrust II was always angry, whether he was sober or not, so, to him, there was nothing for him to get out of drinking. It never made a difference to his mood, anyways. Maybe, when he was sober, he was only slightly less loud. Slightly less violent. Or his father had always been drunk; there were just moments the mask slipped, and it became more difficult to conceal his lack of sobriety. Regardless, as an adolescent, he recalled too many instances where he made vows to himself to never become a loud, rageful drunk like him. Yet, there he was, drinking alone in his room after making an ass of himself toward those who cared for him, just like daddy dearest. Reflecting on all the times his dad ruined holidays, and relationships with family members, due to being in a drunken frenzy, Bradley’s vibrant passion to break the cycle gradually dimmed, as he poured another shot of vodka into his mouth. He wondered if his father had similar thoughts about his grandfather when he was his age. And if his grandfather felt the same about his great-grandfather. There were many things his family didn’t understand about Bradley, but he had a gleam of hope that the way he felt in that moment was one thing they could. Clutching the bottle in his hand, he slowly slid down to the ground, not bothering to lay in the bed right beside him. The hardness of the floor was oddly comforting.

Bradley sadly smiled to himself, randomly remembering when Max’s father went to Lakewood for a semester. The way that middle aged man swung the doors of the classroom room open and strutted down the aisle in confidence seeped into his memory forever. The afro and the corny 70’s disco outfit was the icing on the cake. The first thing he did was go over to Max, and proudly announced to the other students that he was his son. Jeez, it gave him second-hand cringe, yet it was also endearing in an odd way. Bradley snorted at how Max let out one of the most girlish screams he’d ever heard. That was most likely one of the most horrible moments of Max’s life. To have the worst thing your father had done was embarrassed you in public sounded like a blessing. Even though Bradley grew up with a life most people could only wish for, he couldn’t help but envy Max for how good of a bond he and his father had.

sh*t, there he went, once more, thinking about Max Goof. Bradley lazily shook his head, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Chapter 4: A Sign?

Chapter Text

It was mid-October. The weather was chilly with an occasional crisp breeze. After Max, Bobby and P.J. were done with classes for the day, they all decided to stop for some coffee at the Bean Scene. Max was at the front counter, eyes glazing over the menu hung up above, even though he already knew what all three of them wanted. One of the workers walked up to the register, and with the usual greeting, asked him what he’d like.

“I’d like three caramel macchiatos, please!”

“Anything else— Wait…” The cashier narrowed her eyes, and tilted her head, suddenly studying every square inch of Max.

“No, that’ll…be…all?” Max quickly picked up on the peculiar behavior of the cashier, therefore his words naturally trailed off in a timid manner. Unsure of what else to do, he nervously started to shift away from the register, until she started snapping her fingers, as if a lightbulb lit up above her head.

“Wait! Wait! I know you. I’ve seen you before. It was something to do with Bradley Uppercrust III.”

Max smirked as he leaned against the counter, getting a closer look at the young woman in front of him. Suddenly, he saw this previously ordinary cashier in a different, more beautiful light; she quickly became an object of attraction. The heavy eyeliner accentuated the natural almond shape of her hazel eyes, the frizzy, blue strands of hair poking out of her cap was endearing, and she clearly had a shared interest in facial piercings, with her septum, labret, and gauges.

Max replied, “Oh? You mean how I beat him at the X-Games last year? As a freshman, mind you.”

Pride swelled up in his chest, because the mentioning of him and Bradley must’ve meant he was going to be able to boast about the X-Games, without coming off as a douchebag, of course. To add onto that, he had to impress the cute girl, which he figured wouldn’t be too hard, given where the conversation was heading.

“I mean, yeah, everyone knows about that. But…I’m talking about…” With a mischievous expression, the cashier gave him a subtle “come here” motion with her hand, intriguing Max enough to come closer, until he was at whispering range.

She cupped her hand around his ear and softly asked, “Didn’t you try to make out with him a couple weeks ago?”

Right, he forgot. If it wasn’t about the X-Games, there was no doubt that the rumor of him coming onto Bradley one random morning was going to be the topic. Max instantly recoiled, a face with disgust written all over it.

“No! I didn’t—”

“If you did, I’m not judging! I’m an ally!”

“Seriously! I did not! I have no idea where that rumor came from. I’m not even gay!” He made sure to say the last part extra loud, in order for those around to hear, as well.

“Oh– O-Okay, sorry. I was just wondering…that’ll be $13.97.” Once he paid, Max stormed back over to the table in frustration, where Bobby and P.J. were sat. He harshly pulled a chair out, then plopped down, putting his head down against the table.

“People still askin’ if ya boinked Brad?” Bobby asked. Max sat up; his fingers pressed against his temples from distress.

“Yes! And, when I tell them no, they don’t believe me! Ugggh!” Since Bradley called their arrangement off, removing himself from uncomfortable, and invasive encounters regarding his sexual orientation became almost routine.

P.J chimed in, patting Max’s back, “I think this says more about Bradley than you, man. He’s really spreading a rumor, because he’s a sore loser. I mean, come on, that’s an entirely different level of sadness!” Like a sneeze that came out of nowhere, Max blurted out:

“I don’t think it’s because he lost. Bradley is actually—” he quickly slapped his hand over his mouth. P.J raised an eyebrow, while Bobby lowered his shades, exposing his brown, perplexed eyes.

“Well…what could the other reason possibly be? He has a crush on you?” P.J asked, followed with a light chuckle. Bobby leaned back as he laughed a bit too hard at what was meant to be nothing more than a passing comment. In the midst of his fit, he banged his fist on P.J’s shoulder. In response, P.J., who had a visibly uncomfortable look on his face, scooted his chair away from being at hitting distance.

“Wooo! That’s good! Bro, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted a lil piece of the Maximillian! Dude’s obsessed with ya!” He said as he winked at Max.

Max scoffed, “I don’t think it’s like that.”

“C’mon, get real! Every time we walk in a room with Prissy McRichpants in it, you’re the first person he looks at! Seems kinda fruity if you ask me!” P.J. and Max made eye contact. Without having to say a word, they knew they both shared the same feelings of confusion.

Bobby added, “Then he always gotta make a point to come up to you and say something, man.” The topic of conversation began to give Max a tight sensation in his stomach. As a feeble attempt to subside it, he started anxiously bouncing his foot. He wasn’t sure why, but Max came to Bradley’s defense.

“Bradley’s not gay. Even if he was, there’s no way he’d be into me.”

Max never considered himself to be a close-minded person, let alone have any disdain towards queer people. Oddly enough, though, the mere mention of the words ‘gay’ and ‘Brad’ in the same sentence made his core twist and turn in uneasiness. Subconsciously, Max looked over at P.J. for some sort of reassurance, but all he added was a faint, agreeable:

“Yeah…”

Bobby held his hands up, and his mouth went open, in utter disbelief that his friend’s weren’t siding with him.

“Dawg, most frat geeks like him are always a lil’ repressed! Like, why tha hell would ya wanna live in some f*ckin’ sausage fest house, with a bunch a dudes, unless you like, wanna take it up the bootyhole or somethin’?”

P.J. snickered and shook his head, “First boink and now…bootyhole?” Although Max was the only one who acknowledged his comment, as Bobby began another one of his marijuana-induced tangents as he stood up from his seat.

“Like, bruh, like…those yuppies always be outside shirtless playin’ f*ckin’ volleyball...” Whenever he got into a spell of this nature, there was no getting to him with words, as he had already entered his own little stoned world.

“And– I bet–I bet they like it when they get all sweaty n’ sh*t ‘cause they get some rags and start rubbin’ them on each other’s bodies too cool off! Ooooo!!!” For demonstration purposes, Bobby started rubbing his chest in a playfully seductive manner. P.J. decided that all he could do was enjoy the show, so he leaned back and watched with an amused smile on his face. Max, on the other hand, felt as if he was going to explode. Bobby’s made-up scenario reminded him of all the times he’d skate by the Gammas playing volleyball, and how his eyes would linger onto Bradley’s shirtless body for a bit too long for comfort. He never allowed his thoughts to go any further than the fact that he had an odd tendency to stare, because if he did, if he allowed his mind to run loose, he feared that he'd face some shadows which would change the trajectory of his life. It’d be like opening up a can of worms. However, as time went on, it seemed that external forces, such as the rumor going around the school, were bringing feelings he thought he spent last summer burying six feet under, to the surface. Eventually, he’d have no choice but to deal with the chaos. And that scared the absolute sh*t out of him. He clenched his fists while he tried to avert his attention to his friends.

Bobby’s body was leaned over the table at this point. His face pressed against the surface, making his glasses come off completely, and wiggling his butt in the air, before he said in a high-pitched voice:

“Oooh I’m Bradley! I’m just a pretty little thang, aren’t I? Gammas, come put some sunscreen on my back! And definitely on my butt, too. Or even squirt it in, while ya at it!” P.J. only encouraged his theatrics, for he was nearly tipping over in his seat laughing. There were a couple other students who peaked out from their laptops to observe the complete lunacy of Bobby’s actions, which made the entire room feel even more stuffy for Max. A rush of adrenaline, or perhaps intense anxiety, spontaneously shot through him sharply, as he quickly got up from his seat, causing both Bobby and P.J to freeze in place.

Max snapped, “Bradley isn’t gay—Nobody is gay! Everything is fine and—and everyone is exactly who they seem to be! So, drop it—”

“Order for Max!”

Had the barista not called out his name at that exact moment, Max would most likely have continued to ramble, and say something he really shouldn’t have. Lately, that seemed to be a common occurrence for him. Based on the looks on his friends' faces, he already knew he said too much as it was. Max awkwardly cleared his throat as he held himself close, attempting to make himself smaller.

“Uhh…I think I’m gonna get mine to go. I gotta…paper to work on. I’ll see you guys around, heh…” Before either one of them could counter Max’s statement with a comment, or a question, he rushed over to the front of the shop, grabbed his coffee, and zipped out of the Bean Scene in seemingly one motion.

Since Max found that letter, he had heard nothing but Bradley, Bradley, and, you guessed it, more Bradley, yet he was nowhere to be seen around campus. Typically, it wasn’t difficult to spot him, as he usually was hip-to-hip with Tank, who was now seen by himself, or he just had a flock of what seemed to be nothing more than “fans” circled around him. You would think Max would be relieved from the lack of Bradley’s presence, but it only caused the opposite effect. The campus seemed empty without him around, and it was eerie how he just disappeared out of thin air. There was a sneaking feeling that the sudden lack of Uppercrust on campus had something to do about the letter he found a week ago. Max couldn’t help to have speculations that confronting him could have potentially been the last straw for Bradley. He acknowledged that coming to him about it overstepped a boundary, as nobody wanted to be hounded over something as personal as one’s genitals, so it’s not like he could’ve blamed him for going wherever he decided to. Still, the question of what exactly happened to Bradley loomed over him. Perhaps he just went back home. Transferred schools. Was hiding away at the Gamma house. Or, an intrusive thought that lurked in the back of his mind, the worst possible thing: take his own life. Sure, he hated Bradley, however he didn’t want the guy to die. The thought of him possibly being the reason he may have done something rash like that filled him with overwhelming guilt and self loathing that he wasn’t sure he could handle. If that were the case, Max had no clue if he'd be able to carry on in life normally knowing he had blood on his hands like that.

Once he started to feel his heart race, Max took a deep breath, and shifted his focus on the scenery of the campus. Both the cool breeze and crunch of the orange leaves under his shoes slowly brought him back to reality. There were so many confusing thoughts piling up in his mind that he felt like he was going through puberty again, frantically grasping at anything that felt was fitting for who he was, yet he no longer had any idea of that, either. Max knew he shouldn’t add fuel to this flame by imagining something as heavy as Bradley committing suicide, for God’s sake!

Last time he tried to dig for answers regarding that boy, it clearly backfired on him horribly, therefore, he figured he shouldn’t put so much emotional energy into his whereabouts, or the stupid gossip, or how he developed a strange attraction for him that he refused to delve deeper into—while simultaneously having an ever growing hatred towards him, which he was more than happy to express from the rooftop. That emotion was “easier to digest” than the other one, after all. Before he fell into another rabbit hole, Max shook his head, as if to also shake the stressful, and mercilessly pressing feelings off of his back.

Whatever will be, will be, he thought to himself.

He decided to watch his own feet as he strolled down the street, thinking the mundane action would help soothe him. That was until, out of nowhere, a voice from behind him called out,

“Oh my gosh! Maxxie?”

Max stopped in his tracks, but he didn’t dare to turn around. The last time he heard that nickname was when…well, when Bradley called him by it before their race. He remembered how hearing Bradley’s voice in that moment made his stomach clench in the most pleasant way. Whoever was speaking to him definitely wasn’t Bradley, though, yet the voice sounded so familiar, on the tip of his tongue…

It got closer than last time, “Max! No way that’s you!” When he turned around, he only saw a blur of orange before he was tightly hugged. Still processing what was happening, Max held his arms up and looked down to see a female slightly shorter than him, wrapping her arms around his waist. From the angle he was at, all he could see was that her ginger hair was tied up in a messy bun. The strange girl quickly pulled away, she shifted her eyes away from Max and awkwardly scratched the back of her head.

“sh*t…sorry,” she mumbled, then followed it up with a dry laugh.

“Do I know…wait a minute— Roxanne?”

“Yepp, it’s me, heh..” Roxanne replied as she held up finger guns. Max couldn’t help but blink in awe. He hadn’t seen Roxanne, his ex-girlfriend, since their junior year of high school. The two of them dated for about three years, until Roxanne broke things off, as she was moving to a different school that was across the country. Although Max was crushed at the time, they split up on good terms. It only took him all of his senior year, by being a man whor* and venting to the therapist he had at that time, to get over her.

“Holy sh*t! I thought you were in Massachusetts?”

“I was. After I graduated, I moved back here, took a gap year, then once I was done, I decided I wanted to go to school. I heard this was a good Uni, so I figured why not?” She let out a giggle that reminded him why he fell for her to begin with. Based on her demeanor, Max could tell that she was the same dorky Roxanne he met back in high school, however her appearance no longer had her old essence. Max liked it a lot, though. Her new style was unique, but in a way that screamed she wasn’t afraid to embrace her creative side. She wore overalls covered in paint stains, along with a pair of quirky cat earrings, which matched her green undershirt. As Max’s eyes trailed down, he noticed her tote bag with flowers crocheted onto it, then her beat up Doc Martin boots.

“You look…good,” he said in a tone that sounded more enamored than he’d like for it to have.

Roxanne looked down at her outfit, “Oh…this? No, these are just some raggedy clothes I throw on to do my art. I was about to head to the studio…until I saw you.” She lightly bit her bottom lip and nervously hugged herself. Max always found her awkwardness to be quite cute, even right now. Talking to his ex after years and having thoughts like that may weigh him down with even more complicated worries, however, in that very moment, for the first time in what felt like forever, Max felt content. Roxanne was a symbol of simpler times in Max’s life, and that brought him comfort.

He shrugged, “Well, you rock it! So, how’s life been treatin’ ya?”

“It’s been pretty good!”

Since the two of them happened to be heading in the same direction, they walked together, sharing a trip of small talk, bringing up old inside jokes, and pleasant memories they shared together that’d stick with them for the rest of their lives. Once Max saw the building he stayed at, he stopped in his tracks, with Roxanne mirroring him.

“Alright, well…duty calls,” Max chuckled as he raised the coffee in his hand, “I gotta knock out a paper by tonight, but...I hope I’ll see ya around, Roxxy! It was nice catching up.”

“Yeah, you too!” The two of them began to go their own ways.

“Oh, wait!” Roxanne exclaimed as she turned around and placed a hand on his shoulder, grabbing his attention.

She asked, “Before you go, what’s your number? There’s this um…new underground club opening up that my friend is playing at. They don’t card, and if you show up in a costume, you get in for free! I’ll text you the details.” Roxanne handed Max her phone, to which he gladly took and put his phone number in.

“Free entry if you’re dressed up? Heh, well I guess that means I gotta whip out the ol’ Powerline fit. Blow away the crowd with my moves again,” Max joked with a wink.

Roxanne laughed, “I seriously doubt it even fits you anymore!”

“You’d be surprised, girl.”

~

Being in a trance due to excitement, Max rushed into his dorm room, not even bothering to look at all the bins scattered all out on the floor. He had his phone balanced on his shoulder and pressed against his ear, as he was calling Bobby and P.J. It wasn't long before the phone made a noise to indicate somebody had joined.

“Wasssapp, dude?” Bobby said. After Max sat on the edge of his bed, he was able to shift his focus from the adrenaline of his interaction with Roxanne, and over to giving Bobby the tea

“Dude! Guess who I just ran into—”

He finally noticed a towering figure was in the middle of the floor, bent over an open box, digging through it. Max froze in place. He could hear Bobby’s voice on the other line, but it only became background noise as the sight was beginning to process in his mind.

“Uhh…hold on, I’ll call you back.” Before Bobby could protest, Max hung up the phone, then placed it close to his side. The man stood up to stretch out his back, revealing that he was insanely buff, and at least 6’5. Realization dawned on him when the only man that huge Max knew was…

“Who’d ya bump into, sweetheart. I wanna know!” Tank exclaimed jokingly.

“What—Wh-why are you here?” Max didn’t think twice about his choice of words potentially coming off as rude. He couldn’t help it. There were so many questions running through his mind, so uttering out the simplest one was a good start for him.

“I’m ya new roommate, baby!”

“But I thought…” Max’s words died on his tongue when Tank sighed, and he sat down on his own bed.

“Yeaah…Bradley n’ I go into it, n’ he kicked me outta the Gammas.”

“Damn, you guys were close.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“sh*t happens.” Tank’s eyes shifted over to a laundry hamper in the corner of Max’s side of the room. Based on all the rolled-up polo shirts and sweaters, he knew those weren’t his clothes, for he wore baggy jeans and t-shirts.

“How long that been sittin’ there?” he gestured to the basket.

“I think…a couple weeks now,” Max sheepishly replied

Tank chuckled, responding in a lighthearted tone, “Baby, why you got someone else’s dirty clothes marinating in ya room? That’s nasty.” A visible blush appeared on Max’s face.

“Dude! I–It’s not like I want them there! I just…I don’t know what else to do,” he choked out, embarrassed.

“Ya…wash ‘em?’

“I know that! But I—” he quickly stopped himself. A lump began to grow in his throat as he looked down to his own feet. Wanting to keep the conversation light, he was hoping Tank didn’t notice he was about to say more, but with Max’s luck, the meathead was actually a lot smarter than he made himself out to be.

“But what, baby? Too gross for ya?”

Max started bouncing his leg. Since the day he received the stupid hamper, there was a massive weight crushing his chest, suffocating him with anxiety. He needed to tell someone, get it out of his system, but he had nobody to talk to, until now potentially.

“You…you were his best friend, right?”

“Still am.”

“R–right…” Max trailed off, debating in his head whether he should tell Tank or not. He looked over at the drawer of his nightstand, where he kept the envelope at. Like ripping off a band aid, Max scooted closer, dug in his drawer for the letter, then walked over and handed it to him.

“Please don’t tell anyone…but I found this in Bradley’s mailbox and…I haven’t seen him since.” Tank looked over the letter. Meanwhile, Max was standing in front of him with a stiff posture. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and a flush of heat began to travel from his cheeks to his ears. Anticipating his reaction. Just as his worries begin to set in, Max’s anxious bubble popped, because Tank only laughed and shook his head.

“Baby, I been knowin’ this. I knew for years.”

Max widened his eyes in surprise, “What? How?”

“‘Cause of little stuff like this,” Tank replied as he pointed to the envelope with his free hand.

He continued, “Ya can only cover so much up, ‘til the truth comes out, hunny.”

After a couple beats of silence and heavy tension, Max swallowed dryly, before he dared to ask:

“Were you…angry when you found out?” his gaze hesitantly met Tank’s, who had a look of confusion on his face, eyebrows tightly knit together. Max's intuition told him that the expression didn’t come from a place of judgment, though.

“Max, I moved on with my day. Neva treated or looked at him any differently. What Bradley had going on with that was none of my business. Man, woman, somethin’ in between, or nothin’, I knew that he’d still be his bitchy self that I loved, so I told myself, what was the point in stickin’ my nose in something that got nothin' to do with me?”

Barely louder than a whisper, Max let an “Oh…” come out. His stomach suddenly felt heavy as it dropped. Selfishly enough, that wasn’t the answer Max wanted to hear. A part of him hoped that Tank would say that he was angry, that he carelessly lashed out at Bradley the way he did, in order to alleviate some of the guilt that ate at him.

“Lemme guess, that’s why Bradley called off tha deal?”

Max nodded, letting his shoulders slouch.

Tank laughed dryly, “You two needa figure out what’s goin’ on between ya.” Max’s body visibly tensed up, already in a defensive state.

“Figure out what?! That Bradley is an asshole? I think I’ve already gathered that!” Tank gave him a look that went right through him. It made his heart jump, like he got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Max, baby…You ain’t Mother Teresa. You know damn well you ain’t any better. Just like him, ya feed into the teasing n’ insults every chance you get, and now you ran him off campus ‘cause ya couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Shame on you, really.” Max flinched at the venomous word that was shame roll off of Tank’s tongue. He clenched his fists, quickly trying to come up with a response, or an excuse for himself, but every idea he had just led to the fact that he f*cked up.

Tank continued, with a softer tone, “Y’know, it’s funny…I think if you and Brad weren’t at eachotha’s necks all the time, you two would be pretty good friends.”

Max tilted his head, wrinkling his forehead by doubtfully raising his brows, “We would?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, Bradley is a completely different person when it’s just me n’ him. You two got a lot of similarities. sh*t, until I met you, I don’t think I ever met anyone else that was as competitive as Bradley, or hardheaded.”

Tank pointed at a box of Magic the Gathering cards resting on top of Max’s nightstand, “You two also like the same nerdy sh*t.” Max’s eyes went to what the other was referring to. He snorted, unable to imagine Bradley being interested in something like that. The high and mighty Bradley Uppercrust III seemed like the type to be above “nerdy sh*t,” anyways. Max wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just started biting one of his nails, trying to get the jaggedness of it even with his teeth. The room fell quiet, with only the sound of other student’s muffled voices and cars passing by coming from outside. Because the conversation seemed to have died, Tank slowly got up, and shuffled to the door. Before he went out, though, he turned to Max.

“Look, I’m not tryna go hard on ya, but the only way to work through sh*t is if ya look within and be honest with yourself. Why do ya give somebody you say you hate so much the time of day? What about Bradley…and who he truly is, made you freak out the way you did? Just something to think about, sweetie.”

All Max could do was take in what he was saying, and nod.

Tank was out the door, until Max followed, stopping at the frame.

“Hey, Tank.” The larger man stopped and looked over his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“Do you think…Bradley…would like,” Max swiped his pointer finger over his throat.

Tank snickered, as if what Max asked was completely ridiculous, “Have you met that man? He’d kill someone else, before himself. Besides, he’s strong. He always bounces back.”

“Okay, thanks, Tank.”

“Anytime, Goof.”

Once Tank closed the door behind him, Max took the envelope off his new roommate's bed, then moseyed over to his drawer to open it. As he was placing the letter back into its respective spot, beams of sunlight reflected off of the window, illuminating the dim room. When he shut the drawer, dust flew up, getting caught in the light. For some reason, Max boredly watched how the dust traveled through the rays. While his eyes matched the motion of the wispy particles dancing in the brightness, he came to find out the light shined on only one thing:

That basket of bawled up clothes.

Max was never the spiritual type, but what were the odds of the sun only shining light on one of Bradley’s belongings, the same person Tank and him were just talking about. He couldn’t help but take that as a sign from the universe. A sign to perhaps try to mend things between them. Feeling the warmth of the rays hit his skin as he moved, a wave of optimism washed over him. He picked up the basket and headed to the laundromat.

Chapter 5: Eye to Eye (part 1)

Chapter Text

Sheila Uppercrust squeezed her husband’s arm as the knife got closer, and closer to the cake. Although she already knew the gender of the baby, Sheila could vicariously feel everybody else’s eagerness. Her chest swelled up with excitement, as if fireworks went off in her lungs and the remnants trickled down to her stomach, which was doing flips. She looked up at her lover, Bradley Uppercrust II, who had his usual stoic expression, standing as straight, and stiff, as a soldier on duty. Her eyes slowly averted away from him and went down to her feet for a brief moment, before bringing her attention back to the action.

The slicing of the cake was complete. If the butler cutting it felt like it took a century, the anticipation of him revealing the color inside was almost unbearable. But, once he finally did, the family was aghast. Aside from a handful of gasps amongst the crowd, the silence was deafening. Due to the collective reaction, a part of Sheila felt like she did something wrong. It only took a minute for the people to process the results, until they started cheering and swarming her. They bombarded the couple with comments like:

“It’s pink!”

“The cake is pink!”

“Oh my god! The cake is finally pink!”

The attention came crashing down like a wave. It was almost overwhelming how her family reacted, but the feeling wasn’t exactly bad. Positive attention always made her feel good, and she had her husband on her side to handle a good amount of the herd. She couldn’t exactly blame the reaction, either.

After generations and generations of the Uppercrust family, it was their first baby girl.

Some family members called it a curse, only having boys as offspring, while others wore it like a badge of pride. No matter the stance, it became the topic of conversation amongst the family regardless. One could even call it an obsession right off the get go. All the aunts, grandmothers, and daughters-in-law swarmed her. It almost felt coven-like, how they talked about Sheila’s baby girl, and made comments as if they’d be collectively raising her. The women’s faces beamed as they fawned over fantasies of buying her baby cutesy dresses, dolls and tea sets. As she’d get older, they’d just love to teach her how to cook, sew, garden and dress herself like the beauty she’d be. They had already decided that she’d become an upstanding woman, a loving wife, and a wonderful mother. Sheila knew a lot of these comments weren’t genuine, not intentionally, of course, but they only came from a place of excitement. This wasn’t her first rodeo raising kids. She had a son with her ex-husband, who grew up to be a decent young man. Sheila knew all the feelings during each phase of childbirth. Excitement, agony, relief, connection, exhaustion. The list went on. She also knew that for others, the novelty of a new baby wore off surprisingly fast. As her family rejoiced, the ideals and expectations of a woman that has yet to exist started to overstimulate her. Perhaps it was the start of a crisis she had yet properly conceptualized. Since her first child, a feeling she forgot began to boil over: Uncertainty.

Sheila had never had a girl before. She knew what it was like to grow up as a girl, and blossom into a young woman, of course. However, she couldn’t help but have fears shift to the forefront of her mind. There was a gut feeling that came down on her, as fast as a bolt of lightning. It was like a vice tightening in the center of her core. The jaws of the vice continued mercilessly clamping down on her stomach and ribs. She could almost hear the gruesome sloshing and cracking in her ears, that is, if there wasn’t an overwhelming ring that drowned the horrific thoughts out. As her eyes darted around, she only saw blurry faces. Their mouths moved, but only murmurs she could not comprehend came out. The room started spinning, and all her senses left her body.

Suddenly, everything went from a fun party to the absolute end of the world. Her heartbeat accelerated more and more and more, until she couldn’t take it. With all her energy, she broke out of the crowd, and faltered back towards the house, cupping her baby bump. A few faint footsteps followed her, along with yells of her name. Sheila didn’t even make it to the front door before she vomited all over the porch. Her sisters, Margret and June, came to her aid. Their concerned babbles and light touches were faint, hardly noticeable. All Sheila could do was pant, as she allowed her thoughts to spiral out of control, or maybe (hopefully) revert back to normal? There was no telling where her mind was. The only thing she knew was that an indescribable feeling loomed over her. She couldn’t pinpoint why, but she had a terrible feeling about her soon-to-be daughter.

~

Bradley shot his eyes wide open, gasping as if he came up for air after being submerged underwater. He quickly sat up, feeling the cold sweat covering his entire body. Between heavy pants, he ran his hands through his damp hair, boggling his mind as to what the hell the dream he just had was.

“What the f*ck…?” he breathed out. Bradley looked down to his chest, feeling his skin to be sure he was still in his own body. Apparently, he was just in his mother’s body, at his own baby shower, after all. He supposed it never hurt to check. It was the most abstract feeling he’d ever experienced, and he hoped that the next time he fell asleep, he wouldn’t have a similar occurrence.

“...Why the f*ck?” He darted his eyes over to his phone, tumbling to grab it. Despite being in a relatively well-lit room, he squinted his eyes at the sterile lighting of the screen.

sh*t, he’d been asleep until 3:00 PM. Bradley sighed as he laid back down, his nerves finally starting to calm down.

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since the confrontation. The argument? The emotional abuse? Bradley wasn’t quite sure what to call it. Regardless, for the first time ever in his life, he wanted to hide away from the world. His ideal spot for isolation was at his aunt, Margaret’s house. She was always quite understanding, and a safe place he could always go to. Mentally, he could not handle staying at the Gamma house, going to class, as if everything was just peachy, nor could he go to his parent’s house, because they would ask questions, probe, until Bradley broke down. If his father found out about the incident with Max, he wouldn’t hear the end of how he was a disappointment, and a terrible “representation” of the Uppercrusts.

From all the classes he was missing, he could already feel all the scolds coming from his dad anyways. However, it was better than him finding out about Bradley being outed, by the same guy he lost the X-Games to, so he was willing to take his chances. Bradley rolled over to his side, preparing to mindlessly scroll on his phone and rot in bed for the rest of the day.

But his plans drastically changed when his aunt’s raspy voice called from downstairs:

“BRADLEY! YOU GOT A FRIEND!” Bradley sat back up.

He yelled back, “THE f*ck I DO? I DIDN’T INVITE ANYBODY!”

“YA MUST’VE DONE IT IN YOUR SLEEP, CAUSE HE’S LOOKIN’ FOR YOU!” The sound of heavy footsteps running up the stairs traveled all throughout the second story. A familiar head of black hair popped his head through the door of the room he was in.

“Damn, Bradley. You look like f*ckin’ sh*t!” One of his Gamma brothers, Thomas said. Bradley’s mouth hung wide open.

“T-Thomas?! Why the hell—” After overcoming his brief surge of complete shock, Bradley pinched the corner of his nose in annoyance. His only hide away was being invaded.

“How the hell are you here? Nobody was supposed to know where I was, you know? That was kinda…the point of going MIA?” Thomas, not considering any boundaries whatsoever, quickly invited himself in and sat on the edge of Bradley’s bed.

His friend spoke as if he was telling a funny story, “Dude, simple. I saw you posted one of your gym selfies the other day! But… I found it kind of weird, because the gym you usually go to has red wallpaper, black and white tiles, but you were at one with blue wallpaper. So, I researched every gym within a 50-mile radius from Lakewood University. Before you know it, I found the one you were at! With that information, I know you go straight to the gym Monday through Friday, at about 5:45 AM, so…to kill some time, I spent a day last week waiting in the parking lot of that gym, until you headed back home, then I followed you, and took a picture of the house’s address for when I could come visit you! Annddd…today was that day, broski!”

Bradley blinked in utter disbelief. He opened his mouth a few times to muster up a response, but his brain would go blank every time. There was no doubt that Thomas was clingy and overbearing at times, however he wasn’t aware of the extent the guy was willing to go! Finally, he conjured up something to say.

“Do you…do you know how f*cking insane you sound right now? You stalked me like a lunatic and just expect me to be okay with it?!”

Thomas dismissively waved him away, like he was the one being unreasonable. His response came out like he was on script, and Bradley was the one who went off.

“Nah, dude. Don’t sweat it. I know you’d do the same for me.”

Bradley immediately said, “No, I wouldn’t!”

“Well, okay but…listen, man. I had to do what I had to do in order to get you back on your feet. You look sick, like you’re bedridden or something!”

“Yes! I’d like to keep it that way until I’m ready to go back to school!” Bradley barked as he laid back on his side and threw the sheet over his head. Thomas gripped the top of the sheet and yanked it off of the bed, completely exposing Bradley, who was only in boxers.

“Hey! Quit it!” Bradley yelled, desperately attempting to cover himself with nothing but his bare arms. Thomas grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him with all of his strength.

“You. Are. Bradley. Uppercrust. The. Third! You’re coming back and making Lakewood your bitch!” Bradley shoved Thomas away, making him stumble from the bed.

“I can’t, Thomas, I’m…I’m sick! Yes! Ahem, ahem…see? I can’t go, because I have the flu. Fever and everything!” Bradley rested his hand on his forehead in order to make his white lie more believable in the eyes of his naive friend. Thomas lolled his head back with a sigh.

“Dude! Are you gonna be like, not be sick next weekend? I bought us costumes and everything!”

“You what?!” Thomas pulled his bag off his back and rummaged inside it, then a strange package flew towards Bradley like a torpedo. Although he flinched, he still managed to catch it in his hand perfectly. Looking down at the package, he realized that it was a very skimpy devil costume. There were only four things: a head back with horns, a collar and cuffs, without the shirt, wings with straps and a red g string. Bradley’s face went red at the thought of one of his frat brothers seeing the outfit on the shelf and thinking that it’d be something he’d like.

“Thomas, you’re not serious…” Bradley tried to laugh it off, but only an awkward and unnatural hum came out.

“What? Chicks love that kinda thing.”

“Yeah, they like it on strippers at their bachelorette party! This is so tacky; I think I might puke.”

“Who cares, man! All the girls thirst over you already, you’d be doing them a favor showing up in that!” Bradley only gave him a glare, sucking his teeth.

“Okay! Okay!” Thomas said as he pulled out another costume in his bag.

He innocently asked, “Would you rather be the firefighter then?” The costume was only a yellow helmet and booty shorts to match. Bradley threw his hands up, along with the devil costume.

“You might as well be asking me if I’d rather get pushed off a cliff or ran over by a train!”

“Come on, man! I already went outta my way to buy the f*ckin’ costumes! Besides, you get in for free when you’re dressed up!”

“Don’t care.”

“Bro please! Think about the babes!”

“Not happening! Now, get out already!”

Thomas sighed in defeat. His head and shoulders went heavy and flopped down low. He dragged his feet back to the door, just like his backpack, which was being loosely held in his hand by only one strap. While Bradley watched the pitiful scene before him, he let out a sigh of relief under his breath. He deeply cared for Thomas, loved the guy to death, but he was the type of friend he could only take in small doses.

Right when Bradley began to settle down again, Thomas swiftly fell to his knees, sliding over to the bed. He practically jumped out from his sheets from the sporadic movement of his friend.

Thomas blurted out at the speed of lightning: “I may or may not have talked up the club and—and told a bunch of hot girls that you were gonna be there, so they could come! Please! Puh-lease! Don’t embarrass me like that, bro. I’ll do anything!”

Despite having tightly balled up fists and a clamped down jaw out of irritation, Bradley smirked. Admittedly, the idea of having a bunch of people coming to a function, just for the chance to be in his presence made his head grow fatter than it already was, if that was even possible. Instead of resisting, or spitting out any more nasty words, he cooed:

“Thomas, your existence is sad and pathetic, but that’s why we’re friends.”

His brother sighed, “I know…so, are you coming or not?” Bradley reached over the other side of the bed to grab the devil costume off of the floor. He allowed himself to take another good look at it, mentally taking notes on how he could make it more “Bradley-esque.”

“Hmmm…sure, why not? I’m not wearing the thong in this, though. Something classier. A pair of black jeans, maybe? Yeah, that’d be good.” Upon hearing that, Thomas’ mood switched in the matter of a second, nearly tackled Bradley with a hug, and yelling at the top of his lungs:

“LETS GOOOO! THAT'S MY BOY!”

~

“Uh…are you sure this is the right place, Thomas?”

Thomas and Bradley, in the middle of an unknown area of downtown, stood in front of a narrow, unlabeled door connected to a strip of other mysterious buildings on the side of the street. From the outside alone, it wasn’t hard to gather that the place was run-down and dingy, based off of all the peeling rust and terrible graffiti. A tall, muscular man wearing a ski mask, only revealing his eyes, stood in front of it on guard. Once they caught his attention, he looked the pair up and down, then ushered them to come close. Upon seeing this, the two boys hesitantly walked over as if thin ice were under their feet, about to break at any moment. The bodyguard swung open the door to reveal an equally sketchy flight of narrow, wooden stairs, which assumedly led to a basem*nt. Faint music could be heard from downstairs, being the only indicator that it was indeed a party. Bradley shook his head.

“No, I’m not doing this. We’re gonna get murdered,” he went to turn away, but quickly got stopped with a firm hand on his shoulder.

Thomas hissed softly, “We’re here to get puss*, not be ones!” Reluctantly, Bradley sighed as he allowed his friend to lead him down. The door slammed loudly behind them, reminding him that there was no turning back at that point.

Once they got to the bottom of the stairs, it immediately dawned on Bradley how he wished he was more adamant about staying at his aunt’s. EDM music was blaring in the speakers by a stage and D.J. set towards the back. To Bradley, it was nothing but obnoxious noise, nothing even worth pretending to enjoy. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that there were people dancing on stage, for everybody else to see. The entire atmosphere was fitting for the music, as it reeked of booze and sweat, due to the already small room being packed with people like sardines. Everybody was either half naked or wearing some strange “costume” bedazzled with glow sticks and glitter. They were all dancing, or more like flailing around like madmen, making it clear that he and Thomas were most likely the only ones who were not wound up on an upper or psychedelic. The cherry on top was when they navigated through the crowd, he felt at least four people grope at his ass and one girl drunkenly asking if he knew anyone who was “selling,” whatever that meant. Luckily, the music was overwhelmingly loud, so he just pretended to not hear her as he passed. When Thomas mentioned a party, he assumed it was just a typical function another frat was throwing. He expected beer pong, good music, cute, hygienic girls, not some gross hideout for junkies to have an excuse to indulge in whatever drug of choice they were hooked on!

They eventually made it to the bar, where two girls, leaning against the counter, waved them down. Bradley recognized their faces, but he couldn’t remember their names for the life of him. Hoping that wouldn’t come up and turn into an awkward conversation, Bradley followed Thomas to approach them.

“Hello ladies,” Thomas said in the most suave tone he could possibly muster up, but he just ended up coming off as a try hard. The two girls smiled and looked at each other before giving their greetings as well. While they were ordering drinks, he saw from his peripheral vision that one of them went out of the way to get beside him. Bradley turned his head to attention. From the way she fluttered her eyelashes, he knew what was coming.

“Sooo…Bradley, right?” He took a moment to look the girl up and down. She had blonde hair, a cute face with a sexy, petite figure and her “costume” was a black cat. In actuality, though, she was just wearing lingerie with ears and a tail. To Bradley, that was enough to entertain her. He leaned in closer.

“Yeah, don’t wear it out, babe~”

She twirled her hair and giggled, looking up at the headband he was wearing.

“You’re a devil huh? That’s actually adorable!” With her hand covered in rings and bracelets, she reached up to touch the horns. Bradley allowed her to do so while he waited for his drink to come.

“You know…that’s actually really…really sexy~” she purred out as she gently grazed her hand down his face, then to his chest, where it stayed.

“A lot of people have said it’s fitting for me. I have a little bit of a bad boy streak after all,” Bradley flirtatiously replied. Like a moth attracted to a light, Bradley’s eyes couldn’t help but fixate onto hers. She was wearing wispy false eyelashes, glitter on her lids and heart shaped stickers on her cheeks. Although her eyes looked beautiful with all the makeup, he noticed that she could barely keep them open, and whenever she did, her pupils were like saucers. It was odd seeing her blending in so well with the rest of the crowd there, because he was used to seeing all the girls at Lakewood dressed more modestly, and being sober. Despite this, Bradley figured there was no harm in chatting with her, throwing in the occasional flirtatious comment.

He spent a good portion of his night by that bar, spending a couple hours chatting with the girl and other outliers. As long as the drinks kept coming, he was content.

“You wanna…go somewhere more private? I think there’s, like…a bathroom somewhere?”

“What?”

Before she could further elaborate on her request, everybody started cheering a name of a celebrity Bradley hadn’t heard in years, making the conversation fall silent between them.

POWERLINE! POWERLINE! POWERLINE!

Bradley looked around in confusion, attempting to find whoever the crowd was going wild for. Once he craned his neck to the right, his gaze to the stage, the entire world froze in time. He could feel all the blood draining out of his face when he saw no other than Max f*cking Goof. With his now clammy hand, he quickly grabbed his sixth vodka cranberry from the counter to aid his dry throat, however the sour taste of the juice did the opposite. The girl beside him nudged him and asked a question, but he already had his vision tunneled on Max Goof, so the words went in one ear and right out the other.

Max stood on the stage like an awkward dork, in his equally dorky Powerline costume. His stupid buck teeth were peeking out through his pierced lips as he took in all the people going crazy over his presence through hooded lids. Bradley glanced over to see the girl, who had eyes only for him literally a minute ago, ogling Max. He had a thought in the back of his head that it should be him people were hyped over, not that. His name was Bradley Uppercrust III for Christ's sake! Just like the previous Bradley Uppercrusts, he was a legend! The only person who gave him a crumb of recognition so far had only been some horny girl under the influence. What could that loser have possibly done that night to be worthy of such praise?

Even though he was deeply irritated, a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth when Max darted off the stage. What a wuss, he thought to himself. If it were him up there, he’d put on a performance of a lifetime! Certainly not stand there like some lopsided tree, then scurry away to blend back into the mounds of people. To his surprise, Max went back up, except he was dragging along two other people.

Bradley rolled his eyes. Of course he’d bring that weird red headed stoner in his corny Bob Ross costume, and…

Wait, that wasn’t the chubby one.

He was built like a linebacker. Big. Burly. Tall. He was surprised he didn’t see his entire upper half poking out of the crowd, as he loomed over everybody else. That red, scruffy hair…the bushy eyebrows….

One good look at the guy’s smile and it all clicked.

Holy f*cking sh*t.

It was Tank! Tank was up there with Max and his freak show friend!

Bradley immediately crushed the cup in his hand, bringing the remaining liquid, once at the bottom, up to the edges. The three of them started dancing along to a Powerline song like a bunch of imbeciles. That sight alone, Tank having fun with somebody else, no— not just somebody else, the guy that ruined his life, made the blood in his veins boil and course through his body at a seemingly erratic rate. What the hell was he wearing, too? Some teddy bear onesie?! That wasn’t the Tank he knew!

Whatever, f*ck him! Who did that big doofus think he was?! In what world did he think it’d be acceptable to immediately become best buddies with Bradley’s enemy only a couple weeks after they had that fight! All the times they messed with baby Goof and talked sh*t about him, was it all fake to Tank? Had they been secretly hanging out behind his back since the X-Games? So many other questions raced through his mind, it was almost just as overwhelming as the humid, sweat-scented basem*nt he was trapped in. From across the room, Bradley made eye contact with Max, who was lip syncing the Powerline song, I 2 I (Eye to Eye), clearly knowing it all by heart. Multicolored lights reflected off of the shades, which were pushed up to his forehead, while he performed some sort of choreography. Although he was a bit rusty, Bradley could still tell Max had some idea of what he was doing, which he immediately found to be suspicious. Holding Bradley’s gaze harder than before, he sung along to the music:

“If a wall should come between us,

Too high to climb, too hard to break through

I know that love will lead us….”

Amongst all the rage brewing inside him, he noticed the heat flushing in his cheeks. Why him? Out of all the girls in this club, why was Max staring at him while he mouthed that part? His gaze shifted over to Bobby. During their half assed dancing, he unsubtly nudged Tank, laughing as he pointed directly at Bradley.

That was the moment it clicked. All the questions turned into nothing but violent thoughts, as the anger consumed him whole. It was crystal clear now. They were making fun of him. Going up on stage to do a sub-par performance with Bradley’s best friend was the ultimate move to completely crush him. Betrayal cut him deep. It wrenched his gut like a vice, and mauled his heart into shreds. Suddenly, the music wasn’t so loud it made his ears ring, all the colors and glitter people wore became muted. In a room full of people, he was suddenly alone, swept under the rug. As much as he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, he couldn’t help but sling his cup onto the ground, followed with a few faint “Woahs” from other people close by, before shoving his way into the crowd. After going through the claustrophobic torture of pushing people out of his way and having their sweat rub all over him, he finally found the bathroom. Conveniently enough, there was no line at the moment, so he could lock himself in there in peace, for as long as he wanted to for the time being. Bradley felt like he was blessed from a higher being above when he found that the bathroom was stalless, with only one toilet and one sink. It was a relief to find a place that was somewhat quiet. The once blaring music, with an earth-shaking bass, was now only murmurs. Taking advantage of his environment, he screamed at the top of his lungs:

“FUUUUUUUCK!” Bradley punched the tile wall behind him, making his fist immediately ricochet off of the hard surface. The bones in his fingers and knuckles immediately ached. Through gritted teeth, he hissed and winced while he held his hurt hand with his other one. Bradley soon recovered from the pain, then turned the sink on and splashed his face with cold water. He grabbed some paper towels out of the dispenser and padded his face dry. Bradley pulled his phone out of his back pocket. Fighting for his life to ignore how his eyes started to shake, while the room was spinning, he texted Thomas the most coherent message he could type out.

Don’tng feel godsn. Getting Uberrm.

Bradley had his fun partying. Got an unbearable dose of humiliation. Had his meltdown in the solidarity of the grimy club bathroom. In conclusion to all of the events of that night, he was ready to order his uber, so he could go home and get out of the disgustingly sweat-soaked pair of jeans he was in, shower and go to sleep. All while forgetting about the stunt Max pulled.

But alas, things were never that simple for Bradley Uppercrust III.

Speaking of the devil, Max just had to be in Bradley’s way as he walked out of the restroom, causing them to bump into each other. A splash of liquid hit the two of them.

“Do you mind— f*cking hell!” Bradley snarled as he made out the image of Max with a red drink covered all over his costume in front of him.

Max laughed, “Dude! Bradley! What’s up with us spilling drinks on each other?” He yelled out his comment, due to the music making others’ words difficult to hear otherwise. All of the disdain Bradley felt at the bar came back up, except this time it was tenfold. The only color he started to see was red.

“Hey, by the way, I just wanna say that I’m sorry—”

“Sorry for what, Max?! What could you possibly be sorry about?! Sorry for ruining my reputation? Deadnaming me in front of the whole school?! Stealing my sh*t?! Taking my bestfriend away, then rubbing it in my f*cking face with that stupid thing you did on stage?!”

Max blinked in perplexion as he replied, “What? Tank is just my roommate. I don’t have any control over that.” Every time either one of the boys spoke, their words slurred.

“I don’t wanna hear that sh*t! You knew what you were doing! The way you looked at me on that stage and—and you’re worthless, f*ck-faced Bob Ross bitch laughing at me! You’ve had your laugh, Max! M–Multiple laughs! What else could you, and your low life friends possibly want from me?!”

Max scoffed, “Bradley, why are you acting like I’m out to get you tonight?! I didn’t even know you were coming until I saw you when I was up there! In fact–I was looking for you to apologize about the note, which I didn’t steal, or tell anyone about, but since you’re spreading rumors about me—and talking sh*t about my friends, I’d ‘deadname’ you again in a heartbeat, you c*nt!” Bradley got in Max’s face by stumbling closer.

In a tone of pure venom, and eyes full of daggers, Bradley retorted, “So what if I’m talking about—What are they called? Bob and P.J.? They’re f*cking losers. Good-for-nothing sh*t stains. All they do is drag you down, Max, and you’re too stupid to realize. You could have been a Gamma, make something of yourself, but instead you’re playing pretend on a stage in front of a bunch of dirty hippies!”

“Shut the f*ck up, Brad!”

“No, you shut the f*ck up!” Bradley coughed up a loogie and spit it right onto Max’s chest. If it were an inch closer, it would’ve directly hit him in the face. While he turned away, thinking the interaction was over, he felt a harsh tug on the back of his hair. The rest of his body came with the force of the pull. He struggled to keep his balance as he flailed in protest. Bradley turned his head only to be met with a fist right to his nose. Once the impact of the first punch landed, another one soon hit him right in the stomach. He was far too drunk to feel any of the pain, luckily, so he retaliated by swinging back, landing a few punches to Max’s temple.

Bradley and Max started fighting like a couple of stray cats: punching, kicking, and pulling at each other’s hair and clothing. A circle of people formed around them, doing nothing but staying back and watching. Despite Bradley being stronger and taller, Max clearly had the upper hand. He seemed more experienced and had a confident, fiery flare to him that Bradley naturally didn’t have in him. This was the first time he ever got into a physical altercation, after all. Using his privilege to his advantage all of his life, he grew up with the belief he could say and do whatever he pleased, without consequences. Max quickly brought him down a peg with every fist, elbow and knee hitting him. All Bradley could really do was block his punches and get the occasional lick in himself, which left no effect whatsoever. Max fought as if he was a vicious Pitbull in the ring, fighting for his life. He was sort of built like one, too. Short, yet fit. Somehow, during their scrap, his shirt came off completely, only scratch marks and bruises replaced it.

Tank and Bobby made their way through the center of the pit. The sight of Bradley attempting to fight back by only pulling at Max’s hair, giving his opponent a clear way to hit him in the stomach, to which he did, multiple times, gave the two of them secondhand embarrassment. Bradley didn’t budge, though, determined to keep his grip onto the other’s jet-black locks. Tank has seen enough, however, so he bullied his way in the middle of the cat fight.

He yelled with his booming voice, “HEY! KNOCK IT OFF!” Once Tank tore the two boys away from each other, he took his stance in front of Bradley in an authoritative manner. Bobby, on the other hand, stood beside Max with his arm around his shoulder, trying to talk him down and distract him. Tank turned his head to see Bradley, with significantly more scuffs and bruises on him than Max.

“Baby, if you gonna fight, at least be good at it,” Tank remarked. The smaller male ignored the snide comment and maintained all his attention onto his enemy, likewise for Max.

“Of course, low-class trash like you is ready to throw hands in a heartbeat! All of you poor folk have nothing to lose! At least jails have free food, though. That’ll be good for you.” Bradley yelled in a snarky manner.

Max spat out blood with his response, “You fight like a f*ckin’ girl! I wouldn’t be talking!”

“Wait until my dad hears about this, he’s gonna sue the sh*t out of you! Hah!” Tank elbowed Bradley’s sore ribs in an attempt to give him the hint to stop talking.

“I could probably beat the sh*t outta you and your little daddy at the same time! Being a puss* clearly runs in the family!”

Bradley laughed, “I’d like to see you try!”

“Try? Try?! Sounds like you wanna try round two!” Max quickly lunged forward. Bobby made no attempt to stop him, nor did Tank. Seeing Max start running towards him, Bradley darted off. Luckily, all the people grouped around began to disperse as soon as Tank and Bobby came into the picture, so Bradley had a clear path to get away. But Max also had easy access to get to him.

Chapter 6: Eye to Eye (part 2) *smut*

Chapter Text

Bradley cursed himself for being so drunk, because if he was even slightly less inebriated, he could’ve outrun Max, but instead he got pinned against an “Employee’s only” closet like a ragdoll. It was located in a narrow, empty hallway, away from the rest of the action. Bradley’s wrists were held on each side of his head. Both of their bare, sweaty chests were pressed against each other. Max was breathing heavily, blood coating his teeth as he gritted them.

“You’re lucky I don’t knock you the f*ck out right now!”

Bradley didn’t say anything. He looked at Max through the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut.

Max slightly calmed down as he sighed out, “But, I’m not going to…”

“Why?” Bradley glanced down to the now blood-stained piercings on Max’s swollen lips.

“Because…I never wanted to fight in the first place…Look, I know it’s not the best time, but…I seriously am sorry about the sh*t I said about…your past. I wasn’t thinking straight…and I never stole Tank from you…at least, not intentionally, okay?”

“Whatever, sure.” The tone wasn’t convincing. At all. It wasn’t an acceptance, nor a denial to Max’s apology, but it wasn’t exactly sweet, either. Bradley turned his head to spit out blood, unintentionally drawing attention to the mouth area. The two of them just stood there, in the awkward position of Max pinning Bradley down, watching each other and listening to the sound of their pants. Their chests raised up together in unison, furthering the skin-to-skin contact. Something about how ruffed up Max looked was weirdly endearing; if his sweaty hair wasn’t stuck to his forehead, it was standing up in crazy directions, the heat made his cheeks flushed, perfectly accentuating his warm, olive toned skin, and lastly the sense of longing in Max’s eyes which was buried under furrowed brows.

He wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or the adrenaline from fighting, but Bradley gave into the urge to press his chapped, busted lips against Max’s. Out of fear of rejection, he quickly pulled away, scanning his face to get any indication of what he was feeling. Max didn’t miss a beat to reciprocate. Their teeth hit against each other as the copper taste of blood filled their mouths. It wasn’t the type of kiss Bradley was used to: it was rough, hard, yet full of passion, as if Max had waited his entire life for this. The way Max kissed, and how the piercings pressed against him, made Bradley’s lips tingle in the most sensational way. He couldn’t help but moan at the unexpected feeling of a metal barbel on Max’s tongue. With his own tip of his tongue, he experimentally flicked the ball, confirming in his mind that it was, in fact, a piercing. A heat shot through his stomach, and traveled straight to his nether regions, for the liquor allowed his mind to run wild on what Max could do with such a modification. He subconsciously bucked his hips into the other as they got the perfect rhythm: in between kisses, they swirled their tongues together, then took turns sucking and nipping on one another's bottom lips. While they were lost in the heat of each other’s mouths, Max unpinned one of Bradley’s wrists and lightly trailed his fingers down his toned stomach, leaving shivers and goosebumps. His hand stopped at the waistline of his jeans and his thumb slowly circled around the gleaming button. Bradley twitched in response. Max broke away from the kiss, leaving a smacking noise behind, and whispered in his ear:

“Can I?” Bradley gulped when Max looked into his eyes, patiently waiting for an answer. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to push him away and call that damn uber already. He knew it was a bad idea to escalate things. It would only further complicate things between him and Goof. Yet again, being a transgender man, who was stealth, Bradley didn’t have very many opportunities to just fall into his lap like that. Max already knew, so he wouldn’t have to “disclose” any information, without potentially ruining the mood. Even though Bradley’s parts didn’t align with his identity, or gender expression, the other man wasn’t making a spectacle about his biology.

Not only that, but he was also no better than any other man in his early twenties, as he was also a slave to his hormones. The pounding heartbeat coming from his crotch was refusing to be ignored, and some sort of contact was the only way to relieve his burning arousal. Max was so close to it, too. His thumb continued to dance around the button and zipper, waiting for even the slightest queue to dive in. He was tormenting Bradley without even realizing it.

“Y–Yes, please continue…” Bradley uttered out. His eyes burned into the act of Max unbuttoning his jeans and slipping his hand inside. Although his hand only rubbed Bradley through his briefs, it was enough to make him feel like he could breathe again, the touch relieving only a little bit of the neediness. Max peppered kisses on his neck as he experimentally teased his cl*t with his middle finger, lazily drawing circles around it. Bradley shuddered from the stimuli, letting out a shaky breath as he surrendered to the pleasure.

In that moment, anybody could have walked down that hall and saw what they were doing, but Bradley couldn’t care less. He had only messed around with people either in a bedroom, or a car parked somewhere secluded, so this was beyond the realm of his experience. Something about the risk was so hot.The more thought he put into it, the more he felt himself gushing in his underwear.

Max snaked his fingers down lower, with the palm of his hand still applying pressure to his cl*t. Bradley felt the tips brush against a damp spot, to which Max let out a breathy moan in surprise. Unexpectedly, he pulled his hand out, only to go back in, except this time it was under the briefs, not over them. He smirked when he got a feel of how soaked Bradley really was.

“Damn, Brad. I got you all worked up, huh?” Max laughed low, scooping some of the slickness which was excessively dripping out of Bradley. He used that to lubricate his bare cl*t, where his thumb went back to work, while the rest of his fingers teasingly circled around his entrance. At that point, Max’s entire hand was covered in Bradley’s fluids. The feeling of Max’s strong, calloused fingers rubbing against the slick, delicate skin of his vagin* nearly made Bradley see stars. He leaned his head back, allowing moans to spill out of his mouth. This gave Max perfect access to plant kisses onto his throat.

“Were you this wet when you spread that rumor about me?” Max hummed with his lips against his Adam's apple. He slipped his middle finger inside and applied more pressure to his cl*t at the same time. Bradley didn’t have the chance to protest, because the only thing that came out was a gasp. The finger inside him plunged in knuckle deep, curving upwards, searching for a certain spot—

“Oh! Sh–sh*t!” Bradley cried out as his knees buckled. Max gently dragged his finger against Bradley’s g-spot while he did a thrusting motion from his wrist. His face burned red in embarrassment when he heard the wet noises his own puss* was making for Max.

“I know you know that little rumor. How I supposedly got a boner lookin’ at you…and tried to steal a kiss? Heh, ever since you saw my morning wood, you’d been thinking about my co*ck, haven’t you? You little freak.” Without a warning, Max slipped his index finger inside, then continued the movements with said fingers as if nothing ever changed. The slight stretch made Bradley bite down on his lip, until it was on the brink of bleeding.

Right now, he would have absolutely loved to have stripped Max of any satisfaction, by breaking away and flipping the script onto him, telling him how much of a freak he was for progressing anything in the first place. As much as he lived for opportunities to put his rival down, he was no match for Max’s skilled fingers mercilessly f*cking him deep. The way he consistently kept the same pace made it impossible for Bradley to even think straight.

God, why was Goof even good at this? Was there anything he couldn’t do?

He hated it.

He hated the way his hips had a mind of their own, grinding his t-dick against Max’s thumb. He hated how the walls of his puss* clamped down around Max’s fingers, sucking them in for dear life. He hated how his juices were dripping down to his inner thighs. Most of all, he despised how Max’s words brought him closer and closer to the edge with each syllable.

Max sucked on Bradley’s earlobe before whispering, “I bet when you’re alone, you work that tight, needy little c*nt just like this, wishing it was my co*ck you were cumming all over, huh Bradster?”

“Hng! Shh–Shut—” Bradley's hoarse voice tried to strain out a coherent sentence, but his mind only went blank as Max pushed every button. The feeling of having to pee was nearing every second. So badly did he want to stop him, however every part of his body was on fire in the best way that he also didn’t want it to end.

“Mmmm, yeah. You want every inch of me to break in that puss*, don’t you?” Max whispered, speeding up his pace. Bradley shakily pulled in as much air as he could.

That was it. That was all it took for the buildup of his org*sm to finally reach its peak.

“ F—f*ck, f*ck, fuuuuuck— ” was all Bradley whimpered out as his entire body convulsed. The inside of his puss* twitched around Max’s fingers, which were still f*cking him at the same rate. Some of Bradley’s fluids squirted out of his briefs, and some dripped on the floor under them. Max only watched in awe while Bradley, usually so put together, headstrong and confident, fell apart from only two of his fingers alone. Once he noticed Bradley was coming down from his high, he gradually slowed down his fingering until he was completely still.

“Damn. Never took you as the squirting type,” Max commented. Bradley’s entire body was limp like Jello, except for his legs, which were uncontrollably shaking. He desperately tried to grab at the wall to keep himself up. Eventually he settled on Max’s shoulder instead. Through heavy pants, Bradley managed to heave out:

“G—Get out of me.”

“Oh, sorry…” Max softly said as he slid his fingers out. Bradley lightly grunted from the sudden emptiness. Not only was he dazed, but he was also exhausted from the insane range of emotions he went through in only one night. His lids were so heavy, he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“So…” Max started as he lapped Bradley’s juices off of his fingers. He hummed in delight, like he was tasting a sweet little treat.

“Does this mean you accept my apology?”

“Tired…Leave me…alone…” Bradley replied while he slid down the wall, sitting in his own cum without a single care. Max took a few steps back as he scanned the sight before him, not quite sure how to handle the situation, given the fact that one minute they were fist fighting, then the next Max was finger blasting him.

The universe gave him a free “get out of jail” card, because Max felt his phone vibrate at the perfect time. He dug in his pocket, fishing out the phone before checking the notification.

Roxy <3: CREEPY GUY AT THE BAR! PLS SAVE ME!

sh*t, he couldn’t keep Roxanne hanging like that. At the same time, though, he didn’t feel right about leaving Bradley alone. Being half naked and passed out, he was the perfect target for a pervert to take advantage of him, and the place they were in seemed to have quite a lot of weirdos that weren’t above that! Max looked at the closet Bradley was leaned against and scratched his head, then snapped his fingers.

Boom. That was his light bulb moment for the night.

He opened the door, letting Bradley fall back on the floor. The guy was dead weight, for there was no response from the impact of the fall, only his eyes shut and snoring with his mouth agape. Max stepped around the unconscious Bradley, until he was in a position to be able to get his hands in his underarms, he then dragged the rest of his body into the room. He figured giving him a little hiding spot was better than leaving him out in the open. Next course of action, he patted Bradley down until he found his phone. Using Bradley’s face recognition feature to unlock it, he opened his text message app and clicked on the last contact Bradley texted, which was somebody who went by the name of ‘Thomas.’ Max snapped a picture of Bradley sprawled out on the ground with the caption:

"Bradley:" yooo found ur homie in a closet by the entrance. call him an uber?

The read receipt on Thomas’ end immediately appeared, followed with him typing:

Thomas: LMFAOOO BRO CAN’T HANG IM GEEKED

Thomas: heading there rn thanks man

Max’s phone vibrated once again. He slipped Bradley’s back into his pocket, then checked his own device as he closed the door behind him on his way out.

Roxy <3: MAXXIEEEE SRY IF IM co*ck BLOCKING BUT FR HELP PLS D:

Max: ur good i’m otw

~

The mere presence of another man interacting with Roxanne was enough for the spineless creep to get away from her. Max decided to order the both of them another round of drinks, as a thank you for the invite. While they awaited, Max gave Roxanne a recap of how his night went. During the telling of his story, he couldn’t help but sneak glances at her body. The red and black polka dot tube top, with a black tutu, then wings that matched the top, resembling a ladybug, looked absolutely stunning on her. The night was nearing to an end, so he was surprised she hadn’t found a guy to take home yet.

“Damn, you got into a fight? That explains why you look like you got attacked by a pack of wolves!” Roxanne said while she laughed and covered her mouth.

Max shook his head as he laughed along with her, “Yeah…I hadn’t fought anyone in so long. I was worried about getting my ass beat…heh.”

“Well, I’m glad you won. He sounded like a jerk,” she replied. Roxanne rested her hand on Max’s knee. His mind was still clouded with lust and booze, so the light touch sent a spark of arousal straight to his crotch.

“You know…I really like your hair in pigtails. It’s cute. You should wear it like that more often,” Max said as he looked at Roxanne’s red 4C hair tied up into two low pigtails. She giggled while she flirtatiously leaned in closer.

“Why thank you! I like you all…roughed up and ragged. You should rock it more often~” Max mirrored Roxanne by inching towards her, their faces in kissing distance.

“Really? You think so?” Max asked. He further spread his legs when he felt her hand slide up higher. The bartender placed their drinks in front of them, but the pair were too lost in each other’s eyes to even notice.

“Mhm…it suits the bad boy vibe you got going on, which is what I prefer in a guy.”

Max cheekily grinned, “I can show you other ways I’m a…bad boy. Only if you want, of course~” When he and Roxanne first met, he was a socially awkward little boy that had no understanding of girls, let alone having any knowledge on how to talk to them in the context of romance or sex. The combination of having a relationship with such longevity, then hopping from girl to girl after their breakup, learning different personalities and getting a lot of “practice” with the female anatomy, Max gained more confidence with the ladies. He was good at what he did, and he knew, which made the women flock to him. Roxanne, even though they’ve had a rocky past, was no exception to falling into the spell of seduction. Surprisingly, though, Roxanne, who was typically meek and shy, was able to keep up perfectly fine. She whispered in his ear,

“Only if you promise that you can handle all this woman,Mr. Bad Boy~”

“Oh, I definitely can, baby girl.”

In a mutual passion (horniness) for one another, they locked lips. It wasn’t long at all before the make out session got heated. Roxanne wrapped her arms around his neck, teetering off the bar stool she sat at as her tongue boldly entered Max’s mouth. While Roxanne was one of the most attractive girls he had ever been with, his brain, on impulse, flashed images of kissing Bradley with each flick of her tongue against his.

Up to that point, Max completely blacked out, forgetting about the events that happened after they made out at the bar.

There was only one thing he could recall the next day. It was a striking image of Roxanne under him, laying on a bed. Whether it was his or hers, he had no idea at the time. The only thing he knew was that when he was wildly thrusting into her, she thoroughly sucked on the fingers of his dominant hand, seductively holding eye contact.

Unfortunately for her, she happened to have the same fingers he used on Bradley in her mouth. She didn't leave a single nook or cranny un-licked as she moaned. Blissfully unaware of the fact that she was tainting herself with practically a stranger's "essence."

And no, there was no way, at any point, Max's drunk ass bothered to wash his hands, either. Therefore, all he could do was bite his tongue as he watched the sight in horror.