Chapter Text
"Sooo... Is anyone gonna stop them? Or are we just gonna let this happen?" Bobby is the first to speak up from his spot in the booth, sipping his drink.
P.J., Mocha, and surprisingly Tank all follow the stoner's gaze to their mutual friends.
In the middle of the coffee shop bickering about... Something. To be honest, they're not sure that even they know what they're fighting about anymore.
They're just... Yelling about clothes now??
Bradley Uppercrust III, standing with his arms crossed, looking down at Max Goof and scoffing 'You clearly don't know the first thing about looking presentable!'
And Max quipped back with something along the lines of 'Oh and you do, daddy's money!? You look like one of our professors!'
"How did this even start?" Tank sidetracks.
"Max spilled a drink on Bradley again." Bobby sighs, plopping the weight of his head into his palm.
"In our dear Max's defense, it wouldn't keep happening if Bradley didn't follow two steps behind him everywhere he goes like a lost little pup." Mocha smirks with a knowing look that only Tank seems to understand, and rolls his eyes at.
"It's been like this since this year started..." P.J. looks back to the rest of them, unable to keep watching the disaster in front of him.
It's been a year since the X-Games and a lot has happened. For starters, P.J.'s girlfriend Mocha is a more official presence in their friend group- hanging out with them pretty regularly.
Since the whole saving his life deal, Tank has also been hanging out with them every so often, and they've been on good terms with the new leader of Gamma Mu Mu.
Bradley didn't get kicked out since his dad apparently pays for more than half the building itself, but he's not the leader anymore, and for several months after the... Incident, he was pretty socially outcast.
Until something happened that made Tank forgive him seemingly overnight. When asked, the older student simply gave an 'it's private, and I haven't forgiven him completely, but we're cool for now.'
Which was enough for them. And seemingly enough for a lot of the fraternity and others at the school, who don't go out of their way to talk to the former frat leader, but don't scowl in his direction anymore.
Then the problem of Tank bringing Bradley to their hangouts arose.
It was tense at first. Bobby was the first to offer the olive branch- being the best at letting go of a grudge out of all of them.
Which Bradley swiped away. And Max snapped at him. And he snapped back. And then bickering ensued until Brad stormed off and Tank apologized for his behavior, chasing after him.
Later that same day, Tank dragged Bradley to their dorm, and he begrudgingly apologized.
Bobby accepted pretty easily, as did P.J. because despite being forced to be there, there was something sincere in it.
Especially when he apologized for almost risking their lives, and that 'that was a bit too far... Even for me.'
Max, however, was more skeptical.
"I'll accept your apology for now, but you owe my dad one too. And maybe after that, we can see if you really mean it."
Bobby, P.J., and Tank had all shared a look, fully expecting the Uppercrust to snap at that, having already been struggling to choke down his pride for the last 20 minutes.
But by some miracle, he just took a deep breath, and through gritted teeth choked out a 'Fine.' and turned and stormed out of the dorm, all of them watching in awe.
This led to their second hangout, which ended in them bickering.
Then the third. And fourth. And by the looks of it, this one too.
"God, would you just drop it! I said I'm sorry, and I'll help you clean the damn thing! Or pay for the drycleaners or whatever your fancy little cashmere vest needs!" Max snaps, mocking his voice and Bradley opens his mouth but then snaps it closed.
In a similar fashion to how he agreed to apologize to Mr. Goof, he mumbles something under his breath. They can't hear it from the booth, but it makes Max's eyes widen as the taller man turns and strides away.
Max is left gapping in the middle of the room for a moment before he moves to follow him.
"Uh... Should we be worried about that?" Bobby, who had been utterly fascinated by the whole thing asks the others, who had gone back to ignoring the loud pair.
"Nah, they need to work it out themselves." Tank grumbles, and looks back to his phone.
"Did I tell you guys Gamma Mu Mu is having a party tonight? You're all invited, it's nothing special, everyone's just been bored lately and we thought we should try and liven things up." As Tank speaks, he stands up.
"Sounds good, dude, we'll be there. Max has a few tests he's been complaining about studying for the last few days, so he might not." Bobby stands too, grabbing his empty cup to toss away, and recounting Max's frustration over the chemistry test he has coming up.
Now that he thinks about it, don't they have the same chemistry class? Does that mean he should be studying too?
Huh. He'll worry about it later.
"Nice, I'll see you guys later tonight then, tell Bradley I'm heading back to the House, I need to help with party prep." The junior takes his leave, and they say their goodbyes.
"I can cover the next dri-" P.J.'s cut off when the loud crash of the bathroom door slams open, and their heads all dart in that direction.
Bradley- wearing only his white button-up, his red vest in his hands, is charging out of the bathroom, and out of the Bean Scene entirely. A scarlet flush that they can only assume is indignant rage creeps up his neck and makes his face resemble a firetruck.
"... I don't think they worked it out." Bobby states the obvious and P.J. and Mocha share a look and exhausted sigh.
~~~
When Max rejoins them, he almost immediately dismisses himself to head back to the dorms. Even when they all try to question him, he's already darting out of the building.
When P.J. and Bobby get back to their dorm room himself, Max isn't there.
"I thought he said he was heading back to the dorm?" P.J. asks as he starts pulling up a video game on the TV for the two to play until the party.
"He probably went out to skate or something." Bobby shrugs, settling onto the bed, and grabbing a controller too.
A controller that then gets thrown into the air at the sudden whirlwind that is Maximilian Goof storming into the room, slamming the door behind him, and falling back against it as if holding it close from a pack of wolves chasing him down the hall.
"What the hell dude!? Are you ok-"
"I have a crush on Bradley!" That drops their jaws.
A crush.
Their best friend has... A crush.
...
"A crush?" Bobby gapes.
"Yes."
"On... Bradley?" P.J. asks.
"Yes."
"Bradley. Uppercrust. The III?" Bobby is vaguely aware of the beeping and booping of their video game characters dying.
"Yes."
"You have a crush... On him?" P.J. reiterates one more time.
"If you guys need to keep talking this out, we can do that, but the answer every time is going to be yes, I promise you." Max's hands are clasped together in front of him as he tries to explain it to them.
"... I just- we... How?" P.J. stutters out, still completely flabbergasted.
"How? What do you mean how? I don't know how, I just do! God, I haven't felt like this since- since... Since Roxanne!" It's been a while since Max mentioned Roxanne.
The two broke up on good terms and were still friends, but being in different colleges makes it a bit hard to stay in touch.
That said, Max has been openly bisexual for a while now- he's not sure he's really had the chance to mention it to his father- but that's not important right now. He knows he'll be accepted, so he's really not worried about it.
What he is worried about is the fact that his two best friends are staring at him as though he's grown an extra head. And honestly, he can't blame them.
Bradley? Bradley Uppercrust III- Seriously, how does his taste go from someone as sweet as Roxanne to someone as egotistical, vain, and condescending as Brad!?
He only just realized it himself not even 15 minutes ago, and it's hit him like a freight train.
He feels like he's going to throw up.
"Bro that's... Woah." Bobby is completely unhelpful in this moment of immense stress.
"Okay, well... How did you realize you like him?" P.J. questions and he pauses to recount the last hour of internal turmoil he's been going through.
~~~ 1 Hour Earlier ~~~
Max follows Bradley into the bathroom, a mixture of frustration and exaggeration making him roll his head with a sigh.
He's not sure why he's following him, it's clear he just wants to be left alone. Specifically, he wants to be away from Max.
But still, the need to apologize for... For what? He already apologized!
But damn, the pained look on Brad's face when he swallowed his pride and muttered a simple 'just forget about it.' Before turning away made him want to say sorry for... Something.
"When he enters the bathroom he does a quick scan to see that no one else is in there, but Brad, who is no longer in the red vest.
Instead, he wears the plain white button-up rolled up neatly to his forearms as he holds his vest under a stream of water at one of the sinks. He looks completely focused on the task, but the crease in his brow and deep-set frown on his lips says it's not exactly going his way.
"Brad-" He starts, and the other jumps at the sound of his voice.
"Can you leave me be for ten seconds? I'm trying to walk away from the fight! It's not worth it." He says that last part through gritted teeth as though still trying to convince himself of it.
"Yeah, it's not, but I still feel bad about your vest. I meant what I said, I'll help clean it or pay for the cleaning..." He grumbles, taking a moment to look the other up and down.
Bradley's normal attire isn't the worst for a rich boy. He does look like one of their professors, but it suits him.
But he has changed slightly since Max first met him. He's grown his hair out a bit, not much, but there is a noticeable curl at the ends of his less choppy-looking haircut. Most of the others probably wouldn't have even noticed it.
But Max did.
He also noticed, that despite their constant bickering, Bradley has been doing this a lot.
Walking away.
Just taking a deep breath and muttering something along the lines of 'whatever' 'it's fine' or 'forget about it.' And then storming away.
Every time Max can see the look on his face. Like he's chewing on shards of glass.
Something is up with him, and a part of him wants to be thankful that this means unnecessary arguments and the headaches Brad normally gives him are cut short but... It doesn't feel right.
"I already told you to forget about it, freshman." Brad sighs, turns off the water, and inspects the vest, wringing it out, the fight finally leaving his voice.
Max steps closer, looking at the vest.
"I'm not even a freshman anymore dude." Max leans against a sink, crossing his arms and raising a brow.
It's not as annoying as it used to be. If anything, Max has fun bantering with Brad, telling him that he's not a freshman anymore and he responds with-
"You still act like one." A small, almost unnoticeable smile graces the junior's face.
But Max notices it.
"I just act like myself, if that's a problem then I can try to start acting more like you." He chuckles, and Brad's smile grows.
"It would be a tremendous improvement. Though I doubt you'll ever compare to the original." He motions to himself and once again Max's eyes are drawn to him.
Specifically, the hardly noticeable two undone buttons at the collar of his shirt, exposing part of his chest.
But Max notices.
God, he always seems to notice the littlest things with Bradley.
He uncrosses his arms and steps forward again, tearing his eyes away from Bradley's chest, and to his baby-blue eyes, which are already staring at him. Light amusement sparkles in them and the hostility from earlier has long since faded away.
"Hm, maybe you're right, I don't really have the money to pay for all those fancy vests." He pokes at the red vest in Brad's arms.
"It'd be a wasted investment even if you did. You'd spill coffee on all of them." This makes Max laugh.
He used to hate his laugh. It was just like his father's, with the characteristic 'hy-uck', and he knew there would always be people out there to taunt him about it...
But he's grown used to it.
Nowadays, he likes his laugh. It reminds him of his dad, who he didn't realize he would miss so much until the first few months without him went by. It's not like he just vanished from his life, the two talk on the phone regularly, and he goes home during breaks, and his dad surprise visits him sometimes on the weekends but still...
It was hard sometimes, not waking up every day to a homemade breakfast, and a 'Have a good day at school!'
Miraculously enough, Bradley- who he fully expects to poke fun at him, doesn't. Instead, Max is caught off guard by the sound of the brunettes own laughter.
Well, maybe not a full laugh, but a light chuckle, that stuns him into silence.
It's not condescending, mocking, or cruel. It's soft and genuine.
And when it settles down the two lock eyes and a flush starts creeping up Brad's neck and ears.
"You should get back to your friends Goof." He coughs to break the tension, turning away from him, and Max jumps, suddenly realizing how far forward he leaned.
"Right, uh, I'll see you back out- shit!" He steps backward as he speaks, but his heel slips out from under him.
A puddle of water on the floor probably from Brad's vest cleaning has him falling back. Brad jumps forward attempting to grab his shirt and stop his fall, but ends up slipping forward himself.
There's a sharp pain shooting up his back as he hits the ground, and Bradley crashes on top of him.
Max is the first to reorient himself, and he takes only a moment to stare wide-eyed at the ceiling before realizing their position and pushing himself up.
Sitting up does little to fix the problem though. It just shoves Brad up as well onto his knees face to face with Max, whose legs are on either side of him.
The two's noses are touching and they are both frozen there for a long moment. Bradley becomes a deep shade of scarlet and his face contorts with an emotion that Max can't even begin to place.
There's a familiar feeling bubbling up in his chest and stomach that he can't place either, but it's turning his face bright red as well.
Bradley is the first to break the spell, slamming his palms against Max's chest- forcing him away and almost sending him back onto the floor.
"Get the fuck away from me! If you're seriously this clumsy off of your skateboard, you need to start carrying the damn thing with you everywhere!" He snaps, roughly continuing to push Max away and shove himself off the ground.
"I- w-wait, Brad!" Max stumbles to call after him, trying to push himself off the floor too, but by the time he's standing the bathroom door is already swinging shut, and Bradley is gone.
This time, he really doesn't think it's a good idea to follow him.
But he certainly doesn't want to go back to the group who are going to bombard him with questions that he for damn sure can't answer right now.
... He needs some fresh air.
He tries to calm the blush on his face down and settle his suddenly uneasy stomach and racing heart from the embarrassing moment, internally cursing himself the whole way for continuously being an absolute clutz every day of the goddamn week.
It's easy enough to throw a few dollars on the table and race towards the exit without getting tackled by questions, which he assumed Bradley had done just before him.
He didn't bring his skateboard- a regret now, given that he would like nothing more than to skate down the street as fast as he could to clear his head.
So instead he settles for walking. Just speed walking down the street, his head down, trying to make sense of his thoughts, not even sure where he is going.
He recognizes this feeling, but he doesn't know from where, so he just tries to rethink the whole situation.
Is there even a situation? He just fell, and it's not like either of them had gotten hurt. At least Bradley didn't seem hurt.
Maybe he was hurt and that's why he left so quickly.
God, he should have asked if he was okay. A spike of worry shoots through his chest, that he doesn't really understand.
Bradley is a grown adult, he can take care of himself after a little stumble.
And it's fucking Bradley he's worrying about here, someone that not even twenty minutes ago he was one wrong word away from decking in his dumb pretty face.
...
Pretty what?
He stops instantly. He's in a park right beside the campus, and the cool breeze does nothing to stop the scorching heat on his face.
The word swirls around his head and he feels dizzy.
Pretty.
Does he think Brad is pretty??
Objectively, he is aware that Brad isn't ugly. Far from it. Decent looking. Handsome even...
Pretty. He's pretty.
Objectively.
...
...
...
Fuck.
~~~
He'd never run so fast in his life, desperate to get back to the dorm and text P.J. and Bobby that they needed to talk, or call his dad, or hell, call Roxanne who had helped him figure out he was bi, to begin with.
He's never actually had a crush on a guy. Movie characters and actors maybe, but a real dude that he interacts with nearly every day? A terrifyingly new experience.
And a crush on Bradley of all people!?
His friends are still staring at him, waiting for him to speak.
"He- we... We had a conversation in the bathroom, and he was being- not... A jerk..." He pieces together what he can without giving away... Everything that happened.
They would never let him live it down if they knew the full extent of what happened, and his absolute idiocy of the moment.
"You talked with him for, what, like ten minutes, and he wasn't a dick? Really? That's the standard we're setting?" Bobby looks completely unimpressed, and Max can't blame him.
"Well, I mean, Mocha always had a theory that you liked him at least a little bit and that's why you tolerate him even after everything he did." P.J. stares off as if thinking back to his girlfriend's words as he mentions them.
"God, leave it to her to know about my feelings long before even I do..." He shoves his head in his hands and presses his back to the door, sliding onto the ground in defeat.
"Yeah, she's observant like that..." P.J. fawns and he glares at him.
"Well, are you sure it's a crush? Or is your brain just short-circuiting because he wasn't an ass for once?" Bobby picks up the game controller from the floor and shuts off the game.
This conversation is going to take a while...
"Yes, I'm sure, and as Mocha has apparently theorized, I think I've liked him for a while now..." He tries to pinpoint a moment.
A specific time or interaction when he started thinking Brad was pretty, or started noticing things about him that seemed to capture all his attention.
His eyes, and how perfectly blue they are, or his hair and how it looks ridiculously soft and he's been dying to just impulsively reach out in run his hands through it for an indeterminable amount of time.
He thinks about how he's annoyingly just an inch or two taller than him. How sometimes when they bicker, Bradley straightens his stupid perfect posture to show off his extra height, and how it makes Max want to grab him by his collar and pull him down to his level.
He remembers all the times he almost did, and how that motion might have ended, and he covers his mouth with his hand just thinking about it.
God, how did he not realize it sooner...
From the moment he met Brad, he thought he was attractive, but the whole being a jerk, insulting his friends, tricking his dad, and almost fucking killing people including his own friends... That kind of made it hard to focus on any other feelings he might have towards the older student outside of anger.
But looking back, shit, he might have been smitten with the man and his unreasonable ego the whole damn time. His damn lean figure, broad shoulders but thin waist- Max would bet twenty dollars that if he wrapped his hands around it, his fingertips would touch.
But despite all these reasons for liking him, one sticks out in particular...
"His laugh..." He mumbles, voice muffled by his hand.
His friends glance at each other before turning back to him.
"His what?"
"It was his laugh... He laughed in the bathroom while we were talking and joking around- and not some weird condescending one- a real, genuine laugh..." He glances up and sees both P.J. and Bobby smiling at him.
"Of course, it would be someone's laugh that seals the deal for you, Max." Bobby teases and he groans, tossing a nearby piece of laundry at him.
It hits him square in the face but he just laughs it off, tossing the offending t-shirt away.
"Well, as weird as it is, I think you two might be good for each other. Opposites attract you know, and I don't think there's anyone on campus more opposite to you than Brad." P.J. interrupts the teasing, and Max feels his stomach sink.
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
"Shit, how am I supposed to interact with him after this!? I can't just continue with our hangouts as if I didn't just realize I have a massive crush on one of the people at the table!" He springs up off the ground and starts pacing back and forth in the small length of the room.
Bobby and P.J. both have to lean out of their way each time he passes them.
"Oh, are you not going to tell him?" P.J. tilts his head and now it's Max's turn to look at him like he's grown a second head.
"Are you crazy!? Of course not! It's Brad!" Perfect, egotistical, rich boy Brad, who hates his guts- maybe a little less than he used to, but still definitely hates him.
"What? Why not?" They both look confused and Max gives them an incredulous look.
"Well for starts, he might not even like dudes, and there's like a 50% chance he's seriously homophobic, those generational wealth families always are, and third- even if he does like dudes, and isn't homophobic, he's Brad." Max lists the reasons on his fingers.
"Oh! And let's not forget the whole messing with my dad, and almost killing people! That's a pretty big reason for not confessing that I like him!"
"I think that's a pretty big reason not to like him at all, but here we are." Bobby comments offhand and P.J. elbows him.
"Well, he did say he'll apologize to your dad, so you can check that off your list when it happens, and maybe Bobby and I can help with the rest?"
"Can we?" Bobby looks at P.J. who shrugs.
Max just leans against the bunk bed frame.
"Dare I ask how?"
"Well, Me, Bobby, and Mocha can interrogate Tank- those two have known each other a long time so Tank's bound to know his sexuality right?" Max rolls his eyes at P.J.'s suggestion.
"Brad doesn't seem like the type to disclose that kind of information with anyone."
"Oh please, Max, me and P.J. knew you were bi before you even started dating Roxanne. There are some things that best friends just know. Kind of like with parents, but we totally give you shit about it." Bobby gives a smug smile that Max pointedly ignores.
"It's worth a try- we'll be subtle about it. I mean, even if you don't confess, don't you at least want to know if you have a chance?"
It's true, it might make it easier to bury the feelings if he knows for certain that Bradley would rather drop dead than return his feelings. Then again, he's not sure he trusts how... Subtle Bobby or P.J. are capable of being.
He knows Tank is cool, and they could just be direct with him, but does he really want to risk the man even accidentally letting it slip to Bradley that Max...
That he likes him. God, that feels weird to even think.
He thinks about it for a long moment, and as he is, Bobby looks down at his phone.
"I don't mean to interrupt your internal monologue man, but the party at Gamma Mu Mu is in like, 20 minutes."
"What party?" Max snaps his head up from where he was glaring daggers at the floor.
"Gamma Mu Mu is having a party tonight and Tank invited us." He says casually and Max's head spins.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me that sooner!?" Max jumps to start searching through his dresser drawers for a cool outfit to wear.
Something different from his normal red shirts at least.
"Well, you kind of charged in here with a bigger problem than being late for a party, and I didn't think you'd want to go. You have to study, don't you?" He shrugs, and Max grabs a gray acid wash band t-shirt, slightly more fitting than his normal baggy red ones.
"I'll study later." He mumbles, already debating switching out his snake bite for the spikes instead of the balls.
"Jeez, that eager to see him so soon after your realization? You sure that's a smart move, man?" he questions, and Max rolls his eyes.
"I'm eager to get drunk and forget about this whole mess for a while." He grumbles and he can practically feel his two best friends sharing a look behind him.
"Suuure, and while you're totally not fawning over your new little crush, we'll be hanging with Tank, gathering that intel for you." Bobby smiles, and Max groans.
"Please don't, I can handle this myself- or well I can choose not to handle it myself." He corrects himself because as of right now, his game plan is...
What is his game plan? Well, it's certainly not telling Bradley about his crush on him- that much he has figured out.
... So why is he going to the party? Bobby is right, he really needs to study for this chemistry test.
But it's at the Gamma Mu Mu house which is a guarantee that Brad will be there. Should he be avoiding Brad? At least until he figures this out a little bit?
Probably. But another part of him just wants to see him again and ask if he's okay. And that he is sorry for the vest. Again. How many times has he apologized for that? Like three or four now, right?
Maybe he can ask Bradley.
But with the way he had stormed away earlier, it's highly likely he doesn't want to talk to him. Or see him for that matter.
... This is a bad idea.
He should not go to this party. He should not be thinking so much about which shirt he'll look best in and might impress the stuck-up rich boy.
He should not be changing his snake bites to the spikes because he caught Brad staring at them once. He should not be messing with his hair in the mirror for exactly ten minutes too long.
He.
Should.
Not.
Be.
Doing.
This.
...
Most of the Gamma Mu Mu parties are pretty awesome. Raved about and given ten-star reviews by practically everyone on campus.
On a normal night, Max can see why. They play the best music, buy the best booze, have a variety of food, and of course plenty of room for people to go wild without worrying about the cops being called.
Tonight, however? He's stuck leaning against a wall, his fourth red cup of something in his hands that he has yet to take a sip of. P.J. and Mocha are dancing together, and Tank and Bobby are talking about which of their professors definitely used to be stoners- and perhaps still are.
And he's staring out at the crowd, has been for the past half an hour, and he hasn't caught so much as a glance of Bradley anywhere.
He's tipsy- maybe a bit more, but sober enough to know that there's a high chance the reason he came to this party, isn't here.
He gives what must be his tenth loud sigh before Bobby turns to him and even through his damn glasses Max can tell he's rolling his eyes.
He finally takes a drink, deciding that he might as well drown his defeat in whatever this sticky sweet concoction of punch and vodka is...
"Hey Tank, is Brad gay?"
And promptly chokes on his drink. He turns as far from the conversation as possible as the alcohol burns his throat and he struggles to swallow it.
He wants to smack Bobby upside the head so hard that his glasses go flying into his drink. He can hear him laughing at Max's outburst, and if there wasn't a question to be answered, he would leave the whole party right now.
"Uh, that's definitely not for me to say, baby. You okay, Max?" Tank rubs the back of his head and leans over to look at Max who waves him off.
"Yeah! Yeah, I'm great, just- I- I'm gonna go get some food or something, I'll see you guys in a bit." He coughs, trying to ease the burning leftover in his throat as he rushes away towards the kitchen.
Down the long, narrow, and very crowded hall, the kitchen is to the right, but the back door is right in front of him.
And taking one glance at how many people are piled in the kitchen surrounding the food on the counter, he opts for fresh air instead.
"Jesus Christ Bobby what happened to subtle...?" He murmurs as he makes it outside in the surprisingly empty backyard, and leans against the side of the house.
Taking a moment to breathe- the cool air feels nice.
Sobering.
The sound of the party inside feels so distant. Music blaring, people laughing, and shouting trying to have a normal conversation over all the noise.
It's all muffled. Even the light shining out and casting shadows onto the darkened lawn from the windows is blurry.
It gives him a moment to contemplate. What was he even planning to say to him tonight?
Ask if he's okay, then what? Go back to bickering? That wouldn't feel right.
He tries to imagine it. Bradley would probably pick out something dumb to taunt him about or give him shit for, and he would snap back with something quick and clever.
Or at least that's how he likes to think it would normally go. But just picturing him in his head he finds himself drawing a blank for words- only able to focus on his eyes, hair, and staring at his lip for multiple reasons, but the main one being just simply watching like a hawk for that damn smile.
His smile and maybe he could be graced with the light laugh that started this whole thing.
He doesn't know much about Brad now that he thinks about it. He wants to know more. Like what he does in his free time these days- Max hasn't seen him at the skate park or on his board for a while.
Maybe he's focusing on school. It could be what he's doing tonight- upstairs in his room studying (like he should be doing right now back in his dorm room) and the noise of the party probably annoying the hell out of him.
What's even his major? They've had several classes together, but all general education, nothing specific that might help him deduce it.
He doubts Brad knows what Max is going to college for either. Doubts he cares.
What are his parent/s like? Brad met his dad. He doesn't have a clue about his family though.
Just that they're some rich, generational wealth family, that makes big donations to the school and Bradley's allowance every month.
He wants to know him- even if he never confesses, he wouldn't mind trying to be friends with him. Or at least on decent terms so their fights aren't exactly ill-willed anymore.
He would never give up their bickering completely though. It's fun, making quips back and forth. He likes to think that Bradley feels the same- at least when he wins he does.
Which isn't very often. Only a few times. When Max was distracted by something.
Like the way, he leans forward when delivering his insults, getting what used to be too close for comfort but at some point down the line became not close enough.
... He's got it bad.
He's had it bad. For the last several months. Since sophomore year started. Hell, maybe from the very beginning when they first met.
"Dare I ask what you're doing out here, freshman? The party is inside- and you have a bug in your drink." He startles and on instinct looks in his drink.
There is a bug in it. It probably flew in while he was standing out here.
He looks up at him, and for a brief horrifying second he wonders if he's imagining him.
He's definitely a bit more than tipsy.
"Brad! What are you doing out here?" The other looks over at him with a raised brow.
"I live here and this is my backyard? Drunk already, Maximillian?" Where did he learn his full name?
Why does hearing it from him fluster him? He doesn't even like his full name that much, and even if he did, it's just his damn name!
"No- no, well, a little. I wasn't expecting to see you tonight- I've been looking for you." He shouldn't have admitted that.
That was a stupid thing to admit.
But the way Bradley smiles- a confusing mixture of smug and genuine, piques his curiosity.
"Really? Well, I wasn't going to join the party, but they're being too loud to study so-" He knew it. "So I thought I'd at least grab a drink."
He tilts up his own red cup- water from the looks of it, not the punch that Max has- and Max realizes he hasn't changed since earlier. Still in his white button-up with the sleeves rolled up, strong forearms with a few unnoticeable beauty marks here and there.
Max notices. He notices everything when it comes to Bradley Uppercrust the fucking III.
Before it wasn't a problem, just observations he would tell himself, but now he knows it's so much more. So, so much more than just observations.
"So?" Max jumps at the question.
Had he said something to him?
"What?" The rich boy rolls his eyes at him.
"You said you were looking for me. What did you want, freshman?" He crosses his arms, sipping his drink, and the motion hypnotizes Max.
"I, uh, well you kinda stormed off earlier before I could even ask if you were alright? You look fine now, but I mean... Are you alright?" He pulls himself together enough to ask.
"Ah. That." He takes a bigger gulp of his drink.
Max looks down at his own and in one fluid motion dumps it out onto the grass next to him, and turns to lean against the wall on his shoulder, facing Brad directly.
If he gets any drunker, he's not sure he'll have any control of his mouth left.
"I'm fine. It was nothing." There it is again.
That dismissiveness as he stares stubbornly into the distance. Max isn't letting him get away with it this time.
"It didn't feel like nothing." He grumbles, leaning forward.
Brad glances at him, there is hesitance in his eyes, doubt, and even frustration.
"Well, it was. Nothing, that is, and it's Bradley." He scowls as he corrects Max, and he rolls his eyes this time.
"Okay, Bradley, if you don't want to tell me what's up with you, that's fine, but don't just brush it off. If it bothers you, it's clearly something." He sighs.
He doesn't want to push too far, because knowing the junior, it'll just spur another fight rather than an honest discussion.
He does reveal in the way the other's ears turn red when he says his name right, and his grip on his drink tightens.
He affects Bradley. That's something he noticed a long while ago. The ability to get under his skin with a few choice words. He enjoyed it, baiting him into a debate, riling him up into red-faced frustration, borderline shouting trying to prove his point.
"You bother me." He snaps at him, and Max only smiles, confidence way too high, eyes way too focused on those damn undone buttons...
"I enjoy bothering you." He chuckles, light and airy rather than a full laugh.
And apparently what he said is funny enough to make Brad laugh too. Even louder than earlier when they were in the bathroom. Even more stunning.
It makes his eyes light up, the shade of blue darker in the dim light of the backyard, but every time he looks toward Max, the light of the party from the window catches them. Reflects on his whole face, colorful, and pretty.
He must be gaping at him like an idiot.
"I've noticed. But as much as you might enjoy it, it's frustrating. It's frustrating that I'm trying to prove to you all how sorry I am, and then we get into fights, and I struggle so hard to remind myself that it's not worth it, that I need to calm down, and not get so..." He's not laughing anymore.
Not even smiling, no, now he looks sad, and frustrated, and is gripping his drink tighter as his gaze tries to scorch the ground at his feet.
"... Brad?" He reaches out.
"Please, don't call me that!" He snaps, whirling on him and making Max jump in surprise.
But he doesn't sound angry. Just...
Desperate.
This is perhaps the first time he's ever heard him say please in a non-condescending manner.
"I... Okay, I won't. I won't... Just..." He struggles for a moment, desperately trying to sober up more and find the right words to say that won't push him away.
"I'm sorry." That feels right.
But it's not.
"It's fine... I need to get back to studying or at least trying to. Goodnight Max." He pivots, reaching for the door, and before his hazy thoughts can even fully think the action through, he grabs the other's wrist.
"Please- Bradley, I..." He's instantly sobered at the sight of water in the very corners of Brad's eyes.
Completely unnoticeable to anyone else in the darkness and with as impaired a mind as his.
But goddamnit Max notices.
"Please... Just tell me what's wrong." He tries.
He tries so hard to sound as small, and gentle as he can when he asks and the older looks down at him, their noses almost bumping.
When did he get so close? His eyes are stuck on Bradley's lips, but can he really be blamed? They're right there, eye level.
He could lean up and just-
"I don't have to tell you anything, Goof." His train of thought is interrupted by the response- which is probably for the best.
The words are a whisper, and he doesn't move away, or tell him to back off, he just... Meets his eyes. Looking for something.
"You don't have to... Can you stay though?" He whispers back.
The moment is dizzying.
"Why? You've got a whole group of friends inside that you can annoy, so why me? I should be the last person on your list to go looking for or hanging out with tonight." He scoffs, turning his head away from Max, but not stepping back.
He has a point. But he doesn't know what Max knows. That Max has an unbelievably massive crush on him and his pretty face.
He's so pretty.
"Because you're..." Pretty. Confident. Passionate.
His friends might say egotistical and deranged, and hell, even his old self would, but they're not here right now, and he's not the same person anymore. Neither is Bradley.
"Because you're not my friend... But I want you to be..." And more.
But a friend works until he can decide what to do with these feelings. He thought he knew, but he's not so sure anymore. Maybe that's just the punch swirling around in his head, but right now he really just wants to risk it all.
"... I... Iwouldn'tmindthateither." He mutters, so quickly and quietly that Max's already dizzy thoughts can't keep up with it.
"What?" He says dumbly, and a little too loudly for the moment, and Bradley breaks the distance.
A single big step back that draws the air out of his lungs with it.
"I wouldn't mind that either. Being friends, I guess." He clears his throat, a blush spreading rapidly on his face that is way too damn cute.
"Great! That's- yeah. That's cool. Cool, cool, cool... So, I'm heading to the skate park tomorrow-"
"No." Decisive, and leaving no room for argument, it's not a snap, or a pull away. Just a firm N. O.
That's suspicious but pushing it might lose him the chance to hang out at all.
"Uh- okay, well, how about..." He tries to think of something else to do other than skating that Bradley does, that doesn't sound like a date.
"The library. I've got a test that I bailed on studying for tonight, and you said you were studying earlier, soooo Study season/hang out?" He tries and Brad rolls his eyes.
"Fine. I was going to the library tomorrow anyway- what kind of test is it?" He pulls his wrist from Max's hold, who didn't realize he hadn't let go.
"C-chemistry."
"Ah. Is it with Mr. Corvan?"
"Yeah, he's cool for the most part, but I get the distinct feeling he doesn't like me or Bobby." He chuckles, and for the third- maybe fourth time tonight he is graced with Bradley's laugh.
"Hm. I wonder why?" He smirks and Max lets out a mix between a scoff and a laugh.
"Hey! I'll have you know me and Bobby are great students." Well. He is.
"Tell me why I find that hard to believe." He smiles, and by some miracle, any remaining tension hesitation, frustration, or doubt is gone from Brad's face.
~~~
"I think this is the first time I've ever seen them not fighting..." Tank mumbles from where he, Bobby, P.J., and Mocha are crammed by the window in the kitchen looking out into the backyard at their two friends.
Max and Bradley, are having what looks like a decent conversation.
Laughing every so often, going back and forth talking about who knows what with genuine smiles on their faces, not hostile scowls.
"Maybe he confessed?" P.J. wonders out loud, and just as quickly as he says it, he realizes his mistake.
"Confessed what?" Tank turns to him and he coughs awkwardly.
"Uh-"
"Nah, if he did they'd probably be making out by now." Bobby says and takes a long gulp of his drink.
"What now?" Tank turns to him, struggling only for a moment to connect the dots.
"Wait, Max likes Bradley?" He asks, backing away from the window to look at the rest of the group.
"Yeah, he told us back at the dorms, and he's also not planning to confess apparently because Brad hates him." P.J. sighs, stepping away from the window to talk to Tank directly instead of continuing to gawk at his friend like Bobby is.
"It's like I'm at the zoo..." He ignores that.
And instead focuses on the way Tanks face contorts with a twist of emotions ranging from curiousity, joy, frustration, and hesitation as he opens and closes his mouth for a solid minute before settling on determination.
"Well, he doesn't hate him, baby. I've spent the last week listening to him rant about Max Goof and I'm pretty tired of it." He starts, and that pulls both Bobby and Mocha's attention away from the window.
"Really? Wait until Max hears about-" Bobby starts but Tank interrupts.
"He won't. Because it's private information that Bradley would actually lose it if he finds out I told anyone." He crosses his arms, glaring at them.
"Then why tell us?" Mocha, who has been mostly quiet about this matter- nothing but a smug 'I knew it' look on her face, places a hand on her hip, raising a brow at the giant of a college student.
"Because, Bradley's never going to admit to actually liking Max to himself let alone to Max, and you just said that he isn't planning to confess his own feelings. Which means if they're ever going to get together, and I'm ever going to get a peaceful day where I don't have to listen to a two-hour rant about Maximillian Goof, we need to step in." He explains, and they all glance around at each other.
"Are you sure that's such a good idea? Matters of the heart should not be interfered with, rushed, or coerced. This is something they need to sort out themselves." Mocha poses the question, and Bobby shrugs.
"We said something similar back at Bean Scene earlier today, and all they did was fight and storm away from each other. I'm with Tank, they need some serious help, or we're all going to be stuck dealing with them pining for who knows how long." He has a point.
"Yes, but within the hour after that fight, Max realized his affections. That is a start, isn't it?" She points out.
"A start that's taken since freshman year to reach." P.J. hates not taking Mocha's side, but truthfully he remembers what it was like being stuck dealing with Max's pining for Roxanne all those years ago.
He does not want to deal with his best friends pining for Bradley.
"We won't do anything rash or weird like locking them in a closet, just... Setting up some bonding scenarios. Make Max realize that he can't just ignore his feelings." He rests a hand on her shoulder, smiling, but she still looks troubled.
"It's not Max's feelings I'm worried for. Bradley has been better since last year, but his ability to deal with his emotions in a healthy manner is still... Unstable. I trust that you want nothing more than to help your friend, but you should not do so at the expense of someone else's mental health and soul-searching process." It's at that that Tank steps forward.
"Don't worry about him, I'll make sure he's okay. We still aren't on perfect terms, but he's been my friend since we were children, and if I sense that we're doing more harm than good, we'll bail and just go back to letting them work it out." He nods, and she sighs.
The three boys seem determined, and though she's worried, she has no doubt they really do have nothing but good intentions.
She only hopes they go as planned.
"So I think we start off with simple wingmaning, you know? Have group hangouts then bail at the last minute so they're left alone with each other, or talk about their interest with the other and hype them up- we could tell Brad about the Powerline concert- maybe even mention Roxanne to see if he gets jealous-" Bobby immediately starts spouting elaborate plans and P.J. and Tank listen closely.
Mocha goes back to the window, looking outside to see the two still talking. Laughing. Content with each other's presence. They look like her and P.J. when they're alone just talking about... Anything and everything. Mostly poetry.
They really would make a cute couple. Rich boy and Skater boy.
An unlikely pair, but somehow they blend so well. When they're alone that is, without worrying about a reputation to uphold.
Max doesn't care much about that, but Bradley quite clearly does, and she just knows that's going to be the two's biggest problem.
That is, so long as their own best friends don't pose a bigger detriment.
"But if we do need to resort to locking them in a closet-"
"Absolutely not."