Wish You Were Sober

by spideytorches

Summary:

Max comes back from a Gamma party, and he can't remember what he did the night before. His friends are acting weird, he's suffering from a hangover that his dad kind of helps with (for once), his hand hurts like a bitch, and now he thinks he's attracted to Bradley goddamn Uppercrust.

What the hell did he do last night??

The X Games solved nothing for Max. 

 

If anything, the damned thing gave him more things to worry about. Sure, in a few ways, it helped. He and his dad were on much better terms nowadays. Max hardly minded his dad's constant calls and texts, even if he tried to tell him multiple times that he had classes and practices he couldn’t miss just because he wanted to talk. Max appreciated him trying, but his dad still had some clear work to do on his boundary issues. Sylvia was helping him a lot with that; Max cherished her deeply for giving his dad a companion that wasn’t himself or… Pete.

 

Or his new friends. While Bradley might have managed to escape only mildly scathed, the other members of the Gammas were quick to forgive their overbearing leader. Tank still held a bit of a grudge, reasonably. But as big and tough as the guy is, he’d been hanging out with Max more and had just as big of a heart as he’d learned. Bradley and he had been friends since before college, and the guy had a prominent soft spot for the leader of the Gammas. It was weird to hear so many nice things about the prick from a reliable source, and a direct line to Bradley from his closest friend was strange, but it gave Max more insight into the other boy. Way more than he’d initially believed he wanted, or needed.

 

Like, why did he need to learn that Bradley was into lanky people during a drunken laugh between Tank and Bobby at a Gamma party last night, where they'd only ever been invited by Tank and begrudgingly accepted by Bradley.

 

“Likes ‘em skinny and strong, baby,” Tank bellowed before, waist-deep in probably his fifteenth beer of the night. Max wasn't keeping count. After hanging around the bigger man for so long, you got used to how much he had to ingest to feel it. The music was hard enough on his head, barely hearing the older boy over it and the loud chatter of drunk college kids. But he heard, his face feeling much warmer suddenly and internally blamed it on the alcohol randomly kicking in.

 

“Yeah?” Bobby had chimed in, toasted out of his mind and cackling up a storm from his place next to the window, lounging in an expensive leaning chair while he flicked his joint into the conveniently placed beer can to keep it steady on the sill. At least he’d worried about not burning down the whole fraternity house. Just not about Max's sanity, leaning hardly a foot away near the window and nursing his beer until he heard the following sentence, choking on his mouthful. “Seems like he'd be more into the sausage party if he likes ‘em like that! Y're sure the guy likes peaches?”

 

“Bobby!” Max had practically gulped out, feeling responsible for his friend's sudden comment. That was out of the normal for the guy to joke about, until he'd finally looked at his friend and saw his confused face like he was serious .

 

Tank had snorted, getting Max's attention again while he snagged the joint from the can on the window sill to take his own puff. He breathed out the foul air; the party was suddenly much quieter in his surroundings. Tank looked like a guy who had to explain basic math to an adult as he spoke, “Who said he did in the first place?”

 

This came to Max's current dilemma.

 

He doesn’t even remember why the topic had been brought up at the party. He doesn’t remember a lot of last night. Max wanted to think that maybe the alcohol and second-hand high had just made him hear things wrong, but honestly, it made things start to add up. Which was worse for a hungover Max, trying desperately to care for his aching head, listening to his dad chatter on the phone idly like he did every morning now, and process this interesting information.

 

What the hell? Interesting?!

 

Max dropped his cup of orange juice, hissing in pain and startling his dad from his random chatter about a museum he and Sylvia had visited over the weekend.

 

“You okay, Maxxie?” Goofy asked carefully, knowing better these days than to push his son. Thank you, Sylvia.

 

Max collects himself, quickly picking up the cup but sparing a second glance at his hurt hand. Weird, he didn’t remember hurting it recently? “Yeah, Dad, just…” He looks at the spilled remains of orange juice currently soaking into the carpet. Shit. “I gotta go. I'll call you after the study sesh, okay? Need something for my head,” he murmurs after, already going to find whatever spray P.J. had bought to get stains out of the carpet from under the sink.

 

“Alright, son! Oh, just so ya know, if ya eat some breakfast and drink some good ol’ e-leck-tro-lights, you'll be good as new!” Goofy chirped before Max hears a banging noise in the background. Max doesn’t even open his mouth to respond before his dad makes a panicked noise. “Gotta go, son! Sumthin’ isn't co-operatin’ with our new dishwasher. Love ya Maxxie!” Before promptly hanging up.

 

Max stares at his phone, a small smile crawling onto his face regardless of his confusion. “Love you too, Dad,” he mumbles, sighing deeply as he sets his phone into his pocket and returns to clean his mess. It strikes him at some point that he never told his dad he was hungover, snorting at the thought that his dad knew and could list the remedies before pushing the reasons why out of his head.

 

Unfortunately, that left only one other thought crawling back from the depths of his sobered mind.

 

He only ever saw Bradley look at the tall, muscular-looking girls a second time. Not that he'd watch what the guy was doing, but because he made it so obvious. Liking tall girls wasn't a bad thing, hell, Max loves all types of girls. Thought Bradley just had a type. But as he thinks of what Tank said while scrubbing orange chunks out of the carpet, more things bubble into his thought process.

 

Why look at the girls in the first place if you weren't into them? Max scrubs harder. He can guess it's not open knowledge if Bradley has to keep convincing people. He doesn't blame the guy when most of his recognition comes from the girls around campus. Unless there was another reason? Bradley was shallow in many aspects, but even that seemed weird to him. There were just as many people who wouldn't care and still think of him as awesome.

 

Shit, he still can't believe the guy still had a reputation after the incident. Max was jumping at every loud noise for weeks after it, refusing the few bonfire outings he'd also been invited to. He's glad Tank still hasn't fully forgiven him, but a loyal friend is a loyal friend. Guess fans are the same way when the general public is too stupid to look at something closer.

 

The orange juice is cleaned up, and as Max stands up with his thoughts, he can't help but roll his eyes. Bradley hadn't lied about anything to anyone really curious, at least. People knew that Bradley had caused the fire somehow but didn’t know much about the cheating. It irritated Max, but there’s not much he could do if people wanted to believe it was an accident. They haven't even appropriately talked after the incident, even with Tank hanging around them more, but Max could tell some part of the other boy felt remorse for his actions and was genuinely responsible.

 

Brief eye contact was about as much as the two would do before looking away, a greeting here and there, but nothing more for the civil side of things. He would still torment Max when it became more than just a recognition of existence for the two of them, although it was much milder now, more like pokes and jabs that just got under Max's skin fast because of their history, and Bradley knew it. Max only reciprocated, taking pride in making the smug look on the guy's face wash into annoyance.

 

Max had noticed the change quickly, how prolonged their interactions seemed to be. How Bradley became an even bigger menace in his life despite the change all of this should have had on their relationship. Or at least, Max thought so. At the end of the games, Bradley had acted chivalrous, even offering him a handshake, and it had originally given the Goof an inkling that their relationship with each other didn’t have to be so hostile.

 

So much for that. Bradley just got worse. It gave Max no inclination to try, just resent the other boy a little more.

 

But Bradley was quieter too after all that happened, mostly keeping to himself and his fraternity while showing off now more than ever. Max was no psychologist, but if that isn't a cry for attention, he doesn't know what is. Nothing had changed for the other boy as far as Max knew, so it was odd for the sudden manic behavior.

 

Tank never talked about that stuff to them. Kept Bradley's super private stuff, private. Max respected it deeply, even if he was curious about it all.

 

Max stops in his tracks, mid-way through pouring milk into his bowl of cereal as he realizes his train of thought again.

 

Wait, why is he even curious? Why does he care ? This guy could've killed him. Max scoffs at himself, “Get your head on straight, Goof.” He murmurs into the open air, putting the milk away along with the bubbling frustration with himself and carrying his bowl to the couch to eat. Luckily, P.J. was typically with his girlfriend in the mornings, and Bobby was usually out and around until the early afternoon or late morning, smoking and partying until he came back to crash for a few hours and go to his afternoon classes when he had to, or sleep the afternoon away most days. Unluckily, that meant he had no real distractions. Until he gets a text. He finishes his first bite of cereal before going to check his phone, noting the name above the text as Tank.

 

‘ yo. want 2 come 2 gammas again l8r? Bradley said its good so long as u bring grass’

 

Max's lips straighten at that, only being allowed at a party hosted by the guy who continues to ruin his moods because he has an active weed supplier. It's a super fun way to be recognized, man. But Max did want to try and relax again, and it was a sure thing that P.J. and Bobby were going to turn up there to keep their weekend alive and well. 

 

He'd rather not sit and dwell on these weird thoughts by himself.

 

Without thinking of it further, his thumbs tap his response quickly, the internalized sound of his teeth chomping crunchy cereal almost making him cringe.

 

‘ yeah, be there. don't let brad get his hopes up too much abt the grass.’

 

He leaves it at that, setting his phone down on the couch and letting his head fall back against the cushions. Max just can't escape this guy, like the world wants him closer and closer to the person who makes him feel more violently outraged than anyone else ever for no reason and every reason simultaneously.

 

So why does he keep putting himself in these positions?

 

Max groans deeply, bowl of cereal lying haphazardly on his lap as he rubs his sore eyes with gloved hands. “The hell is wrong with me?”

 

P.J. gets back to their dorm within the hour, which helps Max with his problems by offering another distraction. He tells Max about his date night with Vicki, the Goof not exactly understanding all the poetry references he was making, but he was happy for one of his best friends regardless. Vicki definitely helped P.J. with his own confidence and made him seem a lot happier every time he came back to their dorm.

 

Gosh… Max sort of misses being in a relationship. That familiar feeling of loneliness floods his body briefly, just until Bobby comes crashing through their door with a loud slam announcing his presence.

 

“Heyy ladies! Y’guys get the text from Tanky?” Bobby slurs, the smell of weed following him into their dorm and sure to get them into trouble for the smell again. Max just snickers at his friend’s antics, P.J. rolling his eyes.

 

“Yeah, already said we’d head over later,” Max replies, which causes a silence between his friends that only makes Max confused. He raises an eyebrow at the two currently staring at him, “What?”

 

P.J. breaks the silence with a cough. “Well, y’know, Max…”

 

Bobby butts in. “Just worried about you getting all hungover again, man! You can’t handle your booze,” he laughs, and Max doesn’t quite catch the pointed stare P.J. sends to their friend for his interference. He scoffs at Bobby’s comment, standing up from his place on their rugged-looking couch to take his bowl to the sink.

 

“Yeah, right. I could drink you both under the table,” Max boasts, rinsing his bowl as he checks the time on their stove. It was already noon, and the sudden realization made a million more appear in his head. Max practically drops the bowl into the sink, both his friends looking over to him. Max completely misses their hushed discussion behind him, turning around to look at the two.

 

“Didn’t we have to study for that English test for tomorrow…” Max starts, watching the horror dawn onto both his friend's faces. Within seconds all three of the boys are scrambling around the dorm to get ready, Max laughing as P.J. moans and groans about his dad killing him for not getting better grades and Bobby leisurely noting he’d missed plenty of classes and his grades were still passing. P.J. and Max exchanged glances of knowing, Bobby snickering along while slipping his shoes back on.

 

Bobby pops the door open, nearly slamming it into the wall (again) and reopening the hole the doorknob had left long ago (again). Max makes a disgruntled noise from the loud sound and P.J. rolls his eyes, but the trio exits the dorm on their skateboards easily. The library wasn’t too far from their designated dorms, a short riding distance where Max proved once again just how talented a skater he was.

 

Never say his performance in The X Games went unrecognized. Another one of the bonuses from competing with Bradley and winning was that he gained more reputation around campus than he already had. As they skate to the library, the three pass by a good couple dozen of people cheering them on as Max shows off. Adrenaline floods his body, the only strong feeling he’d accepted as of late. His heart is pumping fast as he rides the rails of a staircase and narrowly cuts a corner at the end of it. The girls he’d accidentally sprayed with a bit of gravel on the turn still cheer him on while he turns back to wave something remorseful back to them.

 

“Sorry!” He calls back, squeals following, followed by something that sounds like they wouldn’t mind it happening again. A stupid grin forms on the Goof’s face; not too bad.

 

P.J. and Bobby catch up quick, snickering and pushing at Max as they quickly approached their destination of the library. Max steps off the board in time to keep walking, listening as Bobby drawls on about his latest shenanigans from the night before, after they’d left from Bradley’s party.

 

“Some fine lady approached me while I was rolling,” he goes on, P.J. actively making a chatting motion with his hands that only Max could see walking up the stairs and earning a snort. “And she was all like, ‘ yooo, Bobby bro, you should like, totally roll me like that some night! ’ Whaaaaat?! Couldn’t believe my own ears, brosephs,” he entertains, the three finally entering the large building occupied by many weekend-studiers. More than half of them looked too hungover to process, but hey, Max was in the same boat. Good on them.

 

Bobby has the decency to hush his voice a little more as he boasts on, adjusting his bag over his arm. “Anyway, totally made out with her for like, fifteen.”

 

P.J. deadpans, “Seconds? In your head? While staring at her ass walking away from you?”

 

“Hell no, brother!” Bobby jumps, still miraculously keeping his voice down. They’d found their spot now, Bobby smirking up a storm like he’d really hit the jackpot last night. Max was almost starting to believe him, something boiling in the bottom of his stomach that almost reminded him of the leftover booze he’d wasted out earlier in the morning. He ignores it. Pushes it down like the rest of the shit bothering him.

 

Bobby sits with a thud onto a hard library chair, not even making a face, looking so serious it was concerning. “Not even gonna lie, probably could’a gotten head from her if we kept going. She was iiiiiinto me, bros.”

 

Max finally lets out a much louder than necessary scoff, and even though they’re in a much less crowded spot of the library in a tucked-away corner, he still hears surrounding hushes from prissy students that apparently couldn’t focus if a pin dropped 30 yards away. Max shrugs into himself after that, looking sour. “Listen, Bobby, I know you lost your touch and all, but creating some imaginary girl to impress us isn’t the way to go.” He finishes, dropping his bag in front of him and digging out his English notes for his class tomorrow.

 

P.J. follows suit, but it’s not in the way Max expects. The other boy organizes his books neatly while he speaks, “At least Bobby’s actually trying to get some, unlike you.”

 

That has the Goof stopping in his tracks, eyes narrowing in on his two friends. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? It’s not like I’m not trying . I just want it to happen naturally, y’know? I’ve been going to more parties ‘n stuff…” He fights back, the spark of amusement lighting up in Bobby’s eyes when he tilts his sunglasses down his nose. 

 

“Yeah? When’s the last time you even spoke to a girl for more than five seconds?” Max opens his mouth, but Bobby cuts him off. “Ah ah! And it can’t be from ordering something, apologizing, or be Vicki and the chick your dad’s with.”

 

Max’s jaw snaps shut, the seconds of silence saying a lot he wasn’t even truly aware of until now. Yeah, he’s more popular and he’s sure he could get a girl on campus easily, but… Max doesn’t roll like that, alright? Looking is one thing, but the only other experience he had was with Roxanne back in freshman year in highschool. Literal puppy love was all they had, and by the time the next year came around, they’d drifted apart romantically. Roxanne had wanted to explore herself some more and not be tied down by the weight of school, figuring herself out and a relationship.

 

He couldn’t blame her much, even though it hurt for a while after. They’re still friends, see each other post about their lives here and there and comment on it. Max briefly makes a mental note to check in on her and ask how her and her partner are doing.

 

Regardless, he shoves at his friend’s legs in retaliation with no verbal argument. “Whatever, man. Still better than making up girls I wanna bang.”

 

Bobby cackles, “Whatever floats your boat, your royal highness.”

 

God, his friend saying that makes Max suddenly wants to chug a beer like he had last night.

 

… Huh. When did he do that? It was like a random memory suddenly came back from the night before. Whatever, it would feel super good right now. He can’t wait for the party in a few hours.

 

Max abruptly stands, stretching his sore muscles and waving off his friends as they actually begin to chat about the project they were finishing up. Literature stuff could actually be interesting, surprisingly. “Gonna go get a drink from the water fountain, still feel like my head’s gonna explode.”

 

He doesn’t even wait for them to respond, just trudges off into the general direction of the public fountain to help clear his head a little. He’s sure cooling off will help him refocus so he can actually, y’know, study and get the worst part of college over. The project really isn’t that hard, but being hungover makes it intolerable. He leans down to the water fountain to enjoy the crisp liquid dragging down his aching throat, traveling into the least populated part of the damn library just to get this. Cereal potentially wasn’t the best option for breakfast this morning.

 

Max takes his leisurely time sipping up what water he can, at least until he hears a disgruntled noise nearby that has him quickly standing back up most of the way. He doesn’t hear anything again for the next few beats, about to lean down and go back to drinking until he hears it again, louder, followed by something almost pained .

 

That triggers something in Max’s mind and body, remembering hearing Tank’s groans and cries for help under the burning remains of the X structure. He’s quickly making his way over to where he assumes the noises were coming from, stepping over little piles of books someone made and quietly sneaking around the corner. His ear perks at another sound, a whimper , and Max finally narrows down the area it’s coming from to the old hall that used to lead down to the now-closed bathrooms.

 

He really hopes he doesn’t walk into some poor kid getting mugged right now. Max can handle himself, but he’d rather not carry that extra burden on himself even if he’s about to go intrude regardless.

 

Max takes a breath as he peaks around the corner, hand slipping into his pocket to find his dorm keys just in case he needs a weapon and pulls them out, only to find something very different from what he had been expecting when he finally spots the figures of two people.

 

Who knew you could forget you were a college student on a crazy ass campus?

 

Max’s eyes go wide, swallowing the thick saliva building in his throat. He should really be looking away now, spying on two people clearly in the middle of something not on his to-do list today.

 

Just as he’s about to turn away back down the hall, he notices something. He can’t see either of their faces, only the back of the guy closest to him with this longer dark hair, the other person having their face hidden. What Max can see, though, is expensive-looking golf shoes that seem eerily familiar. Meticulously clean. Khaki pants that ride up soft-looking legs, dusted with hair and showing off expensive Balenciaga socks.

 

A moan breaks his train of thought fast. He loses the grip on his keys, fumbling out of his hands and landing with a clatter on the ground as fast as he tries to grab them back.

 

The both of them stop, Max freezing in his spot where he’s bent down to panickedly pick up his keys when he feels eyes on him. This is it, he’s about to be beaten up for looking like a total perv spying on them. Terrified, he looks back up to the two, but the bigger guy isn’t looking and Max gives an internalized sigh of relief.

 

Except one of them is looking.

 

Blue, dazed eyes look at Max over a broad shoulder, slightly narrowed by big eyebrows shadowing them. This was worse. Much worse. Max could have mentally passed this off as some different rich prick to himself later, but not now.

 

His heartrate picks up, mouth formed into a soft ‘o’ while he tries to gulp down anything for his suddenly dry throat.

 

The other man makes a startled, undignified noise as the guy reaches up to take him by the hair and regain his focus, which finally gets Max to snap the hell out of it.

 

The Goof makes a run for it, grabbing his keys off the carpeted floor and quickly twisting to round back the corner. The adrenaline he feels now compared to earlier is heartier, bottom of his stomach blossoming with heat instead the middle of his chest. He’s so glad he had to go to the opposite side of the damn library for a drink, considering he’s now bolted across the entirety of it to find his friends again and still feels like he can’t go far enough. 

 

What the hell.

 

What the hell?

 

Max takes pause right before he gets to the corner where his friends are seated, catching his breath against the side of a bookcase with a hand placed over his racing heart. He hasn’t felt it go this fast in so long. Even though he knows he just finished running, he also knows it’s not because of that. This was a different kind. 

 

Bradley’s eyes on his, so unfocused and pupils nearly covering the entirety of his iris. The way his hands clawed into the back of another boy’s neck, knees squeezing his sides for dear life despite being pinned against a wall.

 

The heat in his face hasn’t left, but Max is smacking himself in the face to stop thinking about it. Stop, stop, stop, stop.

 

No more Bradley. Enough thinking. He can’t take much more of today and this asshole haunting his thoughts and reality.

 

He takes a deep, shallow inhale, refusing to let his thoughts wander farther. Max wipes himself down with his hands, profusely ignoring his own body’s reactions because he doesn’t have time for it.

 

When his friends catch sight of him again, Bobby raises an eyebrow at how disgruntled the other boy is.

 

“Whoa, man, what happened?” P.J. asks, concern evident in his tone.

 

Max sits down heavily into his chair, “Nothing,” he mumbles, a deep sigh falling out of his mouth afterwards. His friends exchange glances, but Max does his best to look calm when he smiles afterwards. “How about some pre-game before the party, fellas?”

 

—

 

They’re high.

 

Of course, they did most of what they had to for their project. And since their class wasn’t until later in the afternoon the next day, they had some time in the morning to finish it up. Fuck it.

 

Max had wanted to go far from the library after that. Antsy the entire time they were finishing up, jumping the second that it was decent enough to continue off of the next day even hungover. They skated haphazardly over to the park, hiding in the depths of a gazebo while Bobby set up some joints for them.

 

Then, well, here they were.

 

Max takes the last real puff of what they have left, leaning back onto his elbows against the wooden floorboards of the rickety gazebo. “Muuuuch better,” he hums, happy with the dull lightness in his head. It was about mid-afternoon now, the sun isn’t beating down on them from where they sit in the shade, and it’s almost perfect.

 

“Sooo…” Bobby begins, gaining Max’s slow attention with his head falling to the side. “You wanna head to Gamma early? Tank’s setting stuff up for tonight, was thinking about smokin’ with him before everyone got there.”

 

Fuck. Max had almost forgot he’d agreed to go, even after just finishing a damn pre-game as he himself had phrased it.

 

He swallows a lump in his throat, looking back down towards the college. He didn’t really want to go anymore, not after seeing the so-called ex-king in such a compromising position after already being on his mind all day. Seeing him with another guy… looking so self-satisfied… Max felt something rough and hurricane-like begin to start up in his stomach, lurching forward almost like he was about to barf.

 

P.J. is at his side instantly, wrapping a reassuring arm around him. “Are you sure you’re good, Max?” He asks hesitantly, and when Max looks over to meet his friend’s eyes he can see the confusion written all over his face. He wipes his mouth with the back of his arm, nodding quickly before forcing a quick chuckle.

 

Shit. Shit . He doesn’t want to do this, not in the slightest.

 

“Yeah, I’m good, I think I just had too much at once,” he laughs it off, avoiding any eye contact with his friends just in case they saw his uncertainty. At least while smoking it had eased his mind and body enough not to be so tense. He leans over the side of the gazebo now, Bobby coughing up a lung beside him. He doesn’t want to worry his friends any more than he already has, feeling horrible enough for just this. So… “Might as well go see Tank before everyone gets there.”

 

Max stands off the gazebo while Bobby whoops, but P.J. looks apprehensive.

 

“Look, man… you’ve been acting weird all day,” P.J. eases into it, still sitting on the side of the gazebo with a nervous look. Max notices him glance over to Bobby, then quickly back. That sets off alarm bells for some reason, but Max is edging on the line of too-high-to-care. “You really sure you wanna go to the Gamma’s again tonight? Me’n Bobby won’t mind.”

 

Max gawks and some internal part of him takes it like a challenge. “Hey, if my best friends wanna party, I’m going too. It might take today’s edge off anyway. Probably just worried about class.” He uses that pathetic-sounding excuse, knowing himself enough that he was never worried about school. He just hopes it’s believable enough for P.J.

 

He can’t tell his best friends that he’s having some sexuality crisis after finding out a douchebag he’s supposed to hate is into guys.

 

But, at least P.J. seems to buy it for now. He seems much less apprehensive about continuing with their newfound plans, and it helps alleviate Max’s own worries.

 

Max glances over to their skateboards placed haphazardly against a beam for the gazebo, coated in graffiti and scorch marks from cigarettes. He can’t help but think that this is truly the college experience.

 

With a final quick laugh over Bobby stumbling off the side of the gazebo and nearly plummeting down the hill the gazebo sits on, the three boys grab their decks. At the very least, they take some time to stroll through their campus and enjoy the high while there’s minimal things to concern themselves with. It’s a Monday, and most people are out and about to enjoy the nice day ahead of them or about to go to their next class. It just gives him more obstacles to overtake.

 

He swings around a stop sign at high speeds, the skateboard wheels scratching at the pavement as two wheels go off the edge of the sidewalk. Max snickers, finally feeling light again after all of this morning and being a stick in the mud to himself and his friends. It’s nice to just skate and not worry about anything other than staying on the board or not hitting a pedestrian.

 

An ollie here. Rides the railing of a staircase there. Blood rushes through his ears when he almost hits a pothole and narrowly manages to avoid it. He has the eyes of nearly everyone on their ride looking at him and giving him a cheer once in a while.

 

Max takes a nice, deep breath while hearing P.J. to his side talking about his girlfriend. It doesn’t bother him as it had earlier. He’s good. Feels good.

 

Some good skating was definitely what he needed to wind down.

 

It takes another half hour between tricks and little stops to get to the fraternity house, and by that point Max is feeling calm enough to face anything that he has to with his friends. The high has officially, fully kicked in and nothing seems too hard. They approach the doors of the fraternity house, a few stragglers outside on the steps that welcome the three of them in with a quick, happy greeting. Whilst Bradley was still head of the fraternity, the frat boys had still taken a liking to Max and his friends. He hated that they still followed another person like lost pups, but he could only help so much, so gradually.

 

Tank meets them at the door, previously texting him that they were arriving early, and he’s grinning big and vicious. “Look at what we got here, baby! I’ll get’cha some papers,” the bigger man turns to head back into the fraternity house, P.J. and Bobby following suit with little chatter that Max doesn’t really hear.

 

Just a step. No biggie. He did much worse just travelling here.

 

Max makes a semi-audible gulping noise, then steps into the frat house.

 

Whew. See? Not so bad.

 

The next steps are what makes it the worst.

 

He mustn’t have been paying attention, seeing as he almost immediately gets bumped into and stumbles.

 

A hand instantly comes out to grab him before Max can fully fall, air collapsing out of his lungs with the instance of not actually making contact with the hardwood floors. That was a close one.

 

“Baby Goof is still learning how to walk, I see?”

 

Max’s entire being freezes all at once.

 

His head snaps up to Bradley, that snotty little self-confident smirk on his face while still holding Max up from inevitable mid-fall. The other man grunts, tugging him up. “You gonna make me hold you all day, too?”

 

That knocks him out of it fast. Max stands with the support of Bradley’s hand, his fingers lingering on Max’s shirt until he goes to dust himself off, ultimately removing the finely manicured hand from his t-shirt altogether.

 

Bradley wipes his hand off on his own sweater, and Max isn’t sure why, but he pays extra attention to the way Bradley’s eyes scroll up and down whilst looking at him. Something grimy and sickening sits at the bottom of his gut once again.

 

“Like what you see or somethin’?” Max lets slips out without thinking, tone mocking as much as he doesn’t want it to be. It takes Bradley aback for some reason, almost like he wasn’t expecting it.

 

Regardless, the other man scoffs. A demeanor shift is noticed in the air around them that only fuels Max’s inner turmoil and confusion. “There isn’t much to look at, to begin with,” Bradley drawls, using his hands to emphasize his point by gesturing vaguely at Max’s torso. The Goof glares at him for it, boldening. “Getting a little too full of yourself, I think.”

 

Max snorts, “Rich, coming from you,”

 

“Of which I am, unlike some Goof,”

 

“That mouth of yours come with a lid yet, or is it sold separately from the sewage pipe? Thought you could afford it with all that shit you spew,”

 

“Big words for a little boy that could hardly walk into my frat house without someone holding his hand.”

 

“You just never stop talking, do you Brad?”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“You got a problem with it?”

 

“The only problem is that you don’t recognize someone above you speaking. You should be grateful you get this much.”

 

The two had gotten closer with every passing remark, Max’s nose nearly touching Bradley’s in the heat of the moment, absolutely seething. His words come out low now, without a second thought. “I’m gonna shut your mouth up myself .”

 

“Uh, Max?” P.J. suddenly interrupts, both men looking over to the intruding boy like it was their last straw. P.J. stands theretheir, looking nervous as ever, partially hiding behind the doorframe of the room over. Max manages to realize the situation fast, looking between his best friend and Bradley before scoffing and shoving the other away.

 

What was he doing ?

 

Bradley takes a couple steps back from the force, nostrils flaring from clear-as-day anger. “Be grateful I even invited you back after last night's stunt, Freshman. ”

 

The older man leaves just like that, pushing past Max with a weak shoulder shove that hardly budges him. It only serves to make Bradley's footsteps louder and more aggressive, stomping up the stairs and inevitably into (what Max assumes to be) his room.

 

The Goof takes a moment to breathe, calm his heart again. His face feels flushed, hands shaking when he lifts them up to look at them. After a couple more seconds of this, he simply abandons the attempt and marches over to his best friend. The change of mood startles P.J. enough to send him completely back into the room he had intruded from.

 

Max is quiet, knowing P.J. is following him a few steps behind until they reach the porch of the Gamma house. Tank and Bobby sit on the porch swing, seemingly chatting and splitting a joint between them before Max joins the fray.

 

It quiets again quickly, Max sitting in front of the two others on a cooler while letting out a horribly deep sigh.

 

A solid minute passes before Bobby reaches out, passing Max half a blunt.

 

“You can use it, pal.” Is the only thing he hears, taking the thing between his lips before more intrusive thoughts enter his mind and ruins the high he craves so badly.

 

Even smoking isn't taking the edge off.

 

Nothing was , not really.

 

But for that moment he talked to Bradley, it felt like all the motions in his body had just clicked. The anxiety wasn't noticed. Adrenaline filled his body, pumping his heart into overdrive, but it was good. He felt lighter, almost like he was skating through campus all over again.

 

But then those thoughts return, diminishing his moments peace like it never existed;

 

What did he do last night?

 

Why wasn't he remembering ?

 

Max's eyes droop, Tank leaning in closer to him, but he's already dropping his head into the palm of his free hand.

 

“You got anything hard, Tank?”

 

—

 

The party starts early, many students showing up despite the day for the party. Max begins to think none of them even care what day it is anymore, as long as they can get something in their blood.

 

Right now, he doesn’t blame them.

 

Gamma parties were known to be the most fun, an endless supply of booze, drugs, girls, and a huge fraternity house to explore and mess around in. Anything but your own dorm, right? Jesus.

Max is currently nosing at the neck of the beer bottle he was given, long finished due to how much he’d needed the drink. Tank never let any casual partygoers into the liquor cabinet, but Max and his friends weren’t just the casuals. ‘Anything for a pal,’ Tank had said to him, immediately stepping up to go grab the whole bottle from where it was hidden away from the public.

 

How could Bradley ever take advantage of this guy? Tank was starting to become just as good a friend as P.J. and Bobby. Max had only taken a shot of it, always hating the taste of hard booze, but nevertheless.

 

It helped… mildly. Tingles in his throat distracted Max from the muddy feeling in the pit of his soul. Now, it was significantly not enough, but he already feels like he’s going to puke if he takes another shot. The beer was fine. Cheap, lots to go around, and enough to make his vision blur a little when he turns his head too fast.

 

Max is out on the porch still, but he’s now taken Bobby’s spot on the swing. The other boy had wandered out into the yard, the entire thing littered with lights to keep it lit up and supplying much more room for the students who were suffocating inside. The Gammas also had an explicit ‘No Smoking Inside’ rule, so it was convenient.

 

Ha. Look at that. Bradley is considerate in a weird way.

 

Max grumbles something unintelligible into the bottle, pushing himself up onto wobbly legs from the swing. He was getting nauseous from the way P.J (who had taken Tank’s spot) was swinging it peacefully, Vicki now seated partially in his lap and talking lowly to one another. She had joined them not too long ago, wanting to be anywhere that P.J. was. Max nearly gags.

 

The two of them look at Max as he stands, and P.J. automatically reaches out a hand to steady Max, just in case.

 

Unfortunately, the Goof is twitchy, immediately flinching away from his hand. That only makes a dejected look appear on his best friend’s face.

 

Vicki doesn’t appreciate it, rubbing a hand along P.J.’s chest comfortingly. Her eyes are narrowed dangerously, “Little tense there, Max?”

 

Max stares at the two of them for a long second, something akin to resentment boiling under his skin that makes him want to throw something. But he doesn’t, and instead, he gestures his head to the side. “Yeah, wanna do somethin’ other than sit out here all night. Y’guy’s got a pool table, right?” He sways slightly as he turns towards some of the other fraternity members seated on the steps leading down to the yard.

 

One of them - Slouch, he thinks his name is - points over his shoulder with his thumb. His other hand is occupied with a baggie. “Down the hall to the right, should be wide open.”

 

“Thaaanks,” Max drawls out, reaching out to grab the arm of the porch swing to make sure he doesn’t fall on his way inside of the house. “Any ‘a you guys wanna play?”

 

“I’m… good, pal,” P.J. mutters, hugging Vicki a little closer to himself. She merely reciprocates, except for the way she tilts her head toward Max.

 

She has that mischievous smile on her face, looking like a collected predator. “Why don’t you go get your plaything to do it with you?”

 

Bobby shoots up beside him, dropping his wraps and cursing, but carefully stepping over them to approach the three. Max is looking a little more sober after Vicki’s comment, body tensing up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Nothing!” Bobby quickly covers up, slamming himself down into the vacant spot on the porch swing another boy was just about to take. He glares at Bobby before walking off, the boy looking completely unfazed while making himself comfortable, albeit nervous. “Nothing at all, Maxxie baby. How ‘bout we go play?”

 

It’s almost like the guy hasn’t been smoking for the last couple hours, which would make Max laugh in any other circumstance. Right now, he’s so confused and it’s making him mad.

 

“No. You guys have been telling me I’ve been acting weird all day, but so have you,” he points at them, P.J. beginning to sweat while Bobby attempts to keep his cool. His finger slowly lowers down, the energy to be accusatory dying quickly. “What’s going on? I hardly even remember getting into bed last night, let alone… whatever the hell you guys aren’t telling me. Was it that bad? Like, did I piss in the park and get caught or something? Did I embarrass myself in front of some girl really bad? I don’t…” Max sighs deeply at the end, both hands coming up to scrub at his face.

 

It’s quiet for a moment, just the chatter of those around them before Vicki clears her throat.

 

“Well,” she begins, which makes Max look up at her again. Vicki isn’t sitting in P.J.’s lap anymore, entirely seated on what little of the swing she has and pointing herself completely at Max. “Maybe you should go talk to the playboy upstairs, hiding from the masses.”

 

Max’s eyes go wide, a million thoughts racing through his head just at that. “ What ?! Did me and Brad get into a fight last night?!” He pauses, unsober mind reeling. “Did I win? No, you wouldn’t hide it if I won. Did I lose ?!”

 

Vicki rolls her eyes, Bobby cackling somewhere to her side. “Like I said, maybe you should go talk to him. Communication is peace, baby boy.”

 

Max flushes at the usage of the pet name at the end, shaking his head quickly and almost sending himself backwards. He hardly catches himself, lower back hitting the railing of the porch and sending a sharp pain up his spine, but he feels himself sobering up from it. Fast. Too fast.

 

What could they have possibly done-

 

Max goes pale.

 

He remembers a little more, specifically after Tank’s information he’d shared. Remembers his feet shuffling deep into the Gamma house, leaving Tank’s room where they had been smoking since nobody wanted to go outside or face Bradley’s wrath smoking in the main area. He bumped into Bradley then, fried out of his mind as the other boy shoved him away.

 

Remembers the way words were spoken - can’t for the life of him decipher what right now - but also the pain from hitting something. Another person was there. Shit, who was that?

 

Max comes back to the present fast when he hears snapping right in front of his face, eyes bulging open to see Bobby directly in front of him.

 

He looks like he’s about to send Max to the closest mental hospital, his sunglasses lowered off his nose to stare at his friend with beady eyes. “Dude, you don’t gotta go blast off on us over it,” Bobby tries to joke, chuckling dryly. He takes a step back, pointedly hiding the joint he had in his hand just in case Max got any ideas. “Y’can talk to the guy when you aren’t about to see Jesus herself, man.”

 

“We better go inside anyway,” P.J. supplies, hand coming out from the cover of the porch swing to have a plap of water fall into his palm. It goes fast after that, Max feels more drops of rain fall onto his bare head but doesn’t have the reaction time at the moment to process it.

 

But then it’s downpouring , everyone in the yard scrambling up the stairs to get out of the rain as fast as they can. Somewhere in between soaked bodies, Max is shoved in and dragged into the house. He pulls himself out of the crowd, more soaked from the other people than he would’ve been if he’d just made it in himself first, and quickly shakes off.

 

The inside of the house is loud . The music playing isn’t bad, but it was much better when it wasn’t nearly making his ears bleed. Max covers them quickly, vision swirling and almost feeling like he’s about to be sick. God, what a loser he is.

 

Max tries to maneuver himself through the crowds of people, dull-colored purple lights overhead making it a little harder to see, but he manages. No bathroom is available in sight. Awesome.

 

This party is going so great.

 

His friends are also nowhere in sight, lost in the many people overflowing in the Gamma house. Max quickly checks the kitchen, hoping he can spot P.J. and Vicki hiding in a corner with the other couples. No chance. He groans desperately, brain too tired and overwhelmed by the party to properly digest what is happening currently.

 

What he makes out in between it all is a distinguishable voice, head and ears lifting unconsciously with it. The tone seems annoyed, angry even, and Max’s eyes narrow.

 

He pushes through the crowd of couples in the kitchen, voices becoming more intelligible the closer Max gets.

 

“-ver said you were welcome to the party tonight.”

 

“What, just ‘cause of last night? Don’t be such a little bitch about it, Bradley.”

 

Max freezes as he spots the two men hidden deep in a hall he didn’t recognize in the building. Not many people were down here, a straggler or two keeping to themselves. It’s too dim to recognize anything other than the other guy’s large stature and Bradley.

 

The leader of the Gammas is nearly pressed to the wall by the taller man, but he shows no sign of complying with whatever this guy is going on about. If anything, he looks uninterested and would like to walk away as soon as possible.

 

Max doesn’t like whatever is in the air here, staying close to listen in and watch carefully. He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, to feel this protective way over Bradley of all people, but he has to talk to him anyway. However, that’s making him feel sick again.

 

“Listen. I explicitly told you to not come here again-”

 

“Because ‘a some little fuck getting in the way? That don’t mean shit. I could take his ass again.”

 

“Are you more muscle than brain? No .”

 

“ C’mon, Bradley …”

 

Max knows that he shouldn’t interfere, but the tone in Bradley’s voice says otherwise. His feet work before he can think more about it and Max rushes in and shoves the guy away from where he was closer to Bradley than before.

 

The older man makes a startled noise to his side, but Max is focused on the taller guy he’d just shoved.

 

He looms over Max like a damn tree, but that makes very little difference to the Goof.

 

“The hell’s your problem?” Max hisses, glaring up at-

 

Wait. He knows that face, although it’s sporting a loud bruise now. Last night…

 

This guy was the one that shoved him, not Bradley. His back hit the edge of the railing to the staircase, pulsing in pain while the guy laughed at him. Bradley was looking at him worried, almost-

 

No, exactly as he is now. A glimpse behind the usually cocky, hardened demeanor he tries to always show. Max shakes his head, ignoring how familiar this scene feels.

 

“This fuckin’ kid again,” the other man drags out, stepping forward and pushing Max back. He stumbles far more than the taller boy, a lot due to his lack of sobriety. He was confident enough in his own strength.

 

Bradley intervenes quickly, that look from earlier completely wiped from his face and back to the aggravating one he always carried. “ Alright , enough. Not in my clean house. Fighting over a guy is a bad look for the two of you.”

 

Max can’t help but roll his eyes, going to reply with the snarky comeback he always has on the tip of his tongue for Bradley, but the other guy interrupts this time.

 

“Not like you would mind,” he laughs, not even a nice laugh for a guy. It’s filled with overflowing ego and underlined with insecurity. “You’d fuckin’ kill for guys fighting over you all the time, wouldn’t’cha-”

 

“Arthur.” Bradley speaks calmly, but it has that fire burning just below. “Get out. Before I make sure you don’t get your stupid soccer scholarship again next year.”

 

“I-”

 

“You know I have the power to. While you’re at it, don’t look in my direction again. Would hate for you to be expelled for selling, hmm? Your father wouldn’t be happy with that, I’m sure.”

 

The two meet eyes after that, as far as Max can tell. He’s too busy focusing on what a stupid name Arthur is. Well, until the guy huffs and puffs and blows past the two of them in a flurry of anger and, apparently, fluster. Max blinks, watching him head down the short hallway and back into the main area of the house. Moments later, there’s a loud slam that quiets the party for only a second. It starts back up immediately.

 

Well… that went better than expected.

 

Bradley clears his throat behind him, which brings Max back to the present in a rush.

 

The Goof looks over to the other boy slowly, head swimming yet again as he makes direct eye contact with the other man. He’s expecting to get yelled at for barging into a private conversation, so the angered look on Bradley’s face doesn’t surprise him. Max sighs, exhausted.

 

“Just get it over with-”

 

“- Thank you.”

 

Max shuts up immediately. He blinks a few times, expression turning into that of being lost.

 

Bradley looks calm, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly despite everything. He doesn’t look fazed in the slightest, somehow. Max is almost impressed by how well the guy can hold himself together.

 

He also notices that Bradley hasn’t worn his sweater for once. Not like Max can blame him, it’s hot as fuck in this house with all the people in it, but it’s different. The button-up he’s wearing has the top button undone in the most sophisticated way, but the bottom isn’t tucked in all the way. Max wants to question it but thinks better of it, considering he was just staring.

 

Shit.

 

Bradley, of course, notices. He doesn’t speak on it, but he lights up.

 

Max glares at him in retaliation, waving his hand. “What’re you even thanking me for? All I did was shove that asshole away ‘cause he was being a douche.”

 

Bradley scoffs, turning to lean his back against the wall, back arched away from where his upper back touches the wall. “You think I could’ve pushed him away myself? Listen Max, I pride myself on many things, but my upper body strength is an unfortunate downfall,”

 

Max feels eyes on him, but he refuses to look over to the other man. Bradley smirks out of sight, “Especially in comparison to you.”

 

He coughs, feeling like the alcohol is back in his system again when he feels swirling in his stomach and chest. “Wow, I never thought I’d see the day you’d admit to being less than me.”

 

“Never admitted to anything of the sort,” Bradley continues, voice as sweet as poison. “I’m just a man allowing himself to admire the upcoming of others. I see the way you balance yourself on that board. It’s impressive.”

 

The praise gets to his head faster than Max would like to admit, snorting and looking to the ground. While he was used to the appreciation from his dad or girls, it felt… strange to get it from someone he’d think unattainable.

 

A boy.

 

Max feels the flippy-floppy feeling in his chest again, enough to make him giggle, going to cover his mouth with a gloved hand. Shit, he felt like he was in middle school all over again.

 

Bradley seems to perk up at the way Max moves in reaction, leaning in closer. His face is smug, but not the punchable kind like Max would always see it as. It’s playful, and just above the loud music to their side, Max hears the soft sound of a laugh from Bradley that isn’t menacing or mischievous.

 

It’s pleasant . Max thinks he’s genuinely drunk at this point.

 

“What’s so funny, Goof?” Bradley utters, feeling so much closer to him now. Max thinks he can feel hot breath against his droopy ear, making him nearly snicker again. “Didn’t think you’d be holed up in a hallway with me getting compliments? Believe me, I didn’t expect it either.”

 

Max snorts from behind his glove, finding immense amusement in Bradley’s words. This only eggs the other man on, the party forgotten to the both of them. Max can feel the other’s heat beside him, and when he finally looks over, Bradley is leaning just enough distance away to not touch but be completely noticed. How like him. It’s the icing on the cake, noticing that Bradley is just as flushed under the colored lights.

 

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Some strange part of Max doesn’t believe that.

 

Max goes to move, shuffling one foot in front of the other, only to fail substantially. He trips over himself, feeling more and more like his father with each passing second. He’s simply lucky there’s another boy there who saves him from falling for the second time today.

 

“Whoa there, Maxxie,” Bradley mutters, and when Max’s eyes refocus, it’s all the other man’s face. He looks soft to the touch, a pinch worried, but all the more heinously attractive. It’s so bad, the bubbling in his stomach making him shake with a goofy, nervous smile on his face even now pinned to the opposing wall.

 

“Starting to think you’re falling for me.”

 

Max laughs, open and a little too loud, and it leads into the well-known ‘ hyuck!’ that he’d been achingly avoiding.

 

His hand slaps over his mouth again, eyes crinkled still with his quieted laughter, but Bradley’s staring at him like he’d just given him a gift of gold. If Max were sober, he’d question how much that would mean to someone so rich.

 

Apparently, the answer is a lot. Bradley’s eyes scan Max’s face, a disbelieving, breathy laugh of his own falling out. He looks genuinely starstruck.

 

“Oh, wow, ” he mutters in amazement, “Isn’t that something…”

 

Something crashes. Literally crashes.

 

The music is stopped instantaneously, loud ‘boo’s following as well as obnoxiously loud chatter.

 

Max snaps out of the daze, eyes widening and freezing in place. He doesn’t move, looking between Bradley and outside the hall.

 

Unfortunately, the other boy isn’t looking at him at all. Bradley has let go of him completely, stepping out of the hall fast without even another word spoken to Max. Leaves him reeling, standing there by himself like a loser.

 

His head spins, processing all that happened in just a few short moments really taking a toll on his mental and physical. Max can’t help but be so confused by it, Bradley holding him and so clearly flirting one second, and abandoning him in the blink of an eye the next.

 

… He’s gonna barf.

 

Surprisingly, with the lack of music, the people are still continuing. Someone has taken it upon themselves to get a playlist from their phone, playing it full blast from a spot somewhere in the middle of the living room. It’s fucking annoying for Max, who’s trying to shove his way past and towards the bathroom he knows exists down here somewhere.

 

It takes him a good minute to navigate his way over, someone just exiting as Max sweeps in to snatch the room up for himself. He doesn’t have the time to apologize before he’s spewing his guts out into the poor, poor toilet. At least he’d made it, right?

 

Max groans loudly into the porcelain bowl, feeling so, so very gross. For more than one reason. His head hurts, but when he leans his cheek onto the cold seat, he thinks of how familiar this feels.

 

He’d been in this position last night, but it definitely wasn’t in this toilet. No, it had been much cleaner than this, better than his dorm’s bathroom, and someone’s hand had been on his back. Another hand making sure his ears didn’t droop into the mess he’d made. He remembers Bradley’s voice.

 

Max vomits again, and that’s when he feels another hand on his back. He doesn’t have the energy to turn his head, hard to think with all the blood rushing through his head.

 

“Hey, Tiger,” Vicki’s voice rings through his aching ears, trying to comfort him.

 

It reminds him of Roxanne. How she’d tried her best to reassure him the night they broke up, saying it wasn’t his fault, that they both deserved time to grow apart from each other. Her hand was so gentle on his, giving him that sad, beautiful smile with tears in her eyes. He wanted to stop her crying, so badly, but he was doing enough of it himself.

 

Max felt like crying right now, too. But he doesn’t. He just stares into the pile of mess he’s made, ashamed, lost, and empty. Vicki stays rubbing his back, and at some point, he hears his friends enter the bathroom as well.

 

He feels so alone, despite it all.

 

—

 

They spend a good amount of time in the bathroom, Max groaning and moaning about how much he regrets doing so much. Bobby chimed in with ill-fitted jokes, earning glares from both other, functioning members of their own private party in the bathroom.

 

Max finally sits up and away from the nasty seat after what feels like forever. He’s sure it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, but that’s still a pretty long damn time to have your head in a toilet.

 

“I feel like shit,” he rasps, voice raw from spewing up what little he had eaten today and the day before.

 

Vicki hums, still lightly rubbing her hand along Max’s arm. “Have a whole sink of water for you,” she informs him, “Lover, would you?”

 

P.J. doesn’t miss a beat, grabbing the solo cup they’d had placed on the sink for when Max came-to and filling it up with cold water. He hands it to Vicki, who proceeds to help Max take not-too-big gulps of it so he won’t throw it all back up again.

 

The cool liquid soothes his throat, moaning his appreciation between sips. He’s satisfied, mostly, by the time the cup is finished.

 

“Guess we can take some blame,” Bobby laments, sighing dramatically from where he’s sitting on the corner of the sink, “Really should have kept a better eye on you, bro. You just disappeared once it started raining. Nobody knew where you were.”

 

Max’s eyes sting, going to look up at Bobby from his place on the floor. He’s about to confess where he had been instead of with his friends, but it’s almost like someone up above just wants Max’s life to be as difficult as possible.

 

Tank opens the door with no respect for privacy, looking at the group of four in the bathroom like it’s where he’d expected them to be. Well, made sense.

 

“Nice to see ya up and outta the shitter, sweetheart,” Tank supplies to Max, gaining a strained, dry chuckle from the Goof, “but uh, if ya don’t mind now, other people ain’t too happy about pissin’ out in the rain.”

 

Max sighs deeply. “Why don’t they jus’ go use the other one?”

 

His question is followed by silence. He looks way more annoyed at all of them blatantly ignoring him. “ Hello ?”

 

Tank snorts after a long moment, pointing at the smaller boy. “You got a lot of jokes in ya, Goof. Only other bathroom in the house is in Bradley’s room.”

 

Max looks even more confused, pushing himself away from the toilet bowl. That made no sense, considering he knows he could have only been here and then his apartment last night. His friends wouldn’t have let him go anywhere else.

 

He doesn’t look amused, staring at the much bigger man standing in the doorway. “Well, that can’t be right. I wasn’t in this one last night, ‘nd I was definitely puking out my guts then, too. I wouldn’t be in Brad’s room.”

 

Tank looks at him incredulously, then at the rest of the group. Bobby looks away, whistling. P.J. has the modesty to look ashamed. Realization dawns on the older boy’s face.

 

“You don’t remember nothin’ ?”

 

Max makes a horrible, angry noise. He’s tired of the mind tricks. “No! If someone could explain to me what the hell I did last night, finally , that’d be real great!”

 

“Oho, baby,” Tank breathes, welcoming himself further into the bathroom to carefully lift Max up onto his feet. His head spins for all of three seconds, then regulates. “Lemme show you somethin’.”

 

Max follows, not like he has much choice, until they reach the beginning of the staircase. People are all around, but he doesn’t remember it being like this last night. It must have been much later. Wait…

 

Tank maneuvers around the steps, bends down, then smacks at the broken board of the second step. Max blinks.

 

Oh.

 

Max is remembering now.

 

~

 

He’d been walking out of Tank’s room the night prior, high and partially drunk, but not enough to really feel it. He’d mostly just wanted air, the stuffy, smokey air in Tank’s room beginning to suffocate him. Along with that new information about Bradley floating in his head. Max had only really gone out to the railing, holding his beer, about to take a sip of it when it felt like everything came crashing down.

 

While there weren’t many people hanging around at that point, all the fraternity brothers were tucked away throughout the house and lounging with their respective people. Max watched them idly from where he stood, which was where he first spotted the big scene beginning.

 

Bradley was the first to appear, pointedly and precisely walking up the stairs, just to get tailed by another, much bigger man.

 

It was the same guy. Long, dark hair with a muscley build, and clearly more desperate than a man for water in the desert. Arthur.

 

“‘M not askin’ for much here, Bradley-”

 

“And I didn’t ask . Not tonight, I don’t feel like it,” came Bradley’s instant reply, not even looking back at the other man as he continued up the steps. Max watched with quiet alertness, especially when Arthur reared up and grabbed Bradley’s hand.

 

The Goof was quick to push away from the railing, watching the leader of the Gammas struggle to get out of the man’s grip. “Let go , you big ape!”

 

Arthur was relentless, tugging Bradley down the stairs near him. “Who the fuck else is gonna do shit with you? You think there’s anyone else on this fuckin’ campus that’ll treat you any different? Any better? Like you fuckin’ deserve it for being a queer?” He said, like he was proud of this information and seeing Bradley’s face fall in the moment. “Face it, Uppercrust. You’re fucked . You got a need for cock and nobody who wants to give it to you but me . Can’t even get yourself a fuckin’ butt buddy to stay with ‘cause you’re scared . So why don’t ya take what you can get, you fuckin’-”

 

Suddenly, Bradley was yanked away right out of Arthur’s grip. Max came into view, eyes a fury of fire, before he reeled back and punched the guy.

 

Arthur flunked down the stairs, and Max got a front row seat to watch the guy hit his ass hard enough against the stairs he sunk into where he landed.

 

“Watch your goddamn mouth , you piece of shit ,” Max panted, remembering the dull pain of his fist as he shook it. The rest of him shook nearly as much, but he still took another step down the staircase to approach the bigger man.

 

Arthur cradled his cheek, rage quickly coming back onto the man’s face when he spotted Max. Then, it turned into something sick and disgusted. “Oh, this fuckin’ kid again? Ain’t you the X Games motherf-”

 

“The hell did I just say?” Max barked, taking another heavy step down.

 

Everyone in the room having turned to watch them at this point. His friends had raced out of Tank’s room at that point, too, he thinks.

 

Max wasn’t a big guy, but he had muscle . Lots of it, for his size and shape. Arthur recognized this with the punch, standing down, but still snarling like he had the upper hand.

 

“What? You think you’re all big, actin’ like some boyfriend to this queer?” Arthur snarked, looking over his shoulder to see the few Gammas still lurking about. Some of them began to approach, noting the situation with Bradley but not quite interfering without their leaders word. Max watched the panic on his face grow, satisfaction immense. He continued to climb down the stairs, watching Arthur crawl out of his legitimate hole and go to stand again.

 

Arthur sneers, eyes locked onto Max, until they suddenly swayed upwards to Bradley again. “You don’t want this fucker. Only cares about himself and what his fuckin’ daddy thinks. Second he gets his fill, he’ll get tired, then drag you back when he’s ready again. Ain’t that right, you fuckin’ whore? You’re just gonna come crawlin’ back to me once you can get your dick up again. You ain’t worth more than those damn socks you’re wearin’.”

 

“ Shut it! ” Max went again, shoving the guy back a good few feet, filled with unbridled indignation. He didn’t know why in the moment just why he was so damn pissed over it, but he felt it so unjustified he couldn’t stand back and watch.

 

Tank had came out at this point, standing ominously at the top of the stairs. Arthur clearly noticed, eyes wide and even more fearful. He came back to Max, glaring hot lava down at him.

 

“Don’t fuckin’ waste your breath for him, kid,” he muttered,  stepping toward him, and Max stood his ground. “He’s nothin’ but a decent lay. Nothin’ more.” Then finished off by ramming Max back into the railing of the staircase.

 

Tank had started to stomp down at that point, but Arthur was letting himself out. Max had felt dizzy, head falling into his hand while he turned to go back up the stairs after Tank, who made sure the other man left their property completely.

 

There was another blur, his friends fussing over him and asking him what happened for him to get into a fight with some random guy. Max doesn’t remember responding if he had, just knew he was gonna throw up soon and it was going to be all over the floor if he didn’t find a garbage can or a toilet soon.

~

 

Fuck.

 

Max stares at the hole in the staircase, a large lump forming in his throat, then getting shoved down.

 

“Where is he?” Max asks, quiet as can be while still heard over the sound of the phone speaker music.

 

Tank huffs, grateful that it only took one thing for the guy to get his bearings back on straight. “Said he was callin’ it. Too much bullshit to handle for one night.”

 

Max nods, easily sliding between Tank and the hole in the wood to some safe footing.

 

“Where ya goin’, Max-man?!” Bobby calls, confused by all of what was truly going on now.

 

Max doesn’t look down. “Going to have that talk with Brad.”

 

He goes up the rest of the stairs with minimal issues, his eyes on the prize. He suddenly can’t bring himself to care so much about the sexuality crisis he believed himself to be having all day, just shoves past the few couples along the railing either making out or talking close to one another.

 

Max resists huffing in his own jealousy, almost accidentally tripping one of them while staring a little too long.

 

There’s grumbles as he passes by, nearly crashing into the wall once from a quick loss of balance that was typically so good for him. Maybe he shouldn’t be drinking so much…

 

The wall is one thing, but suddenly he’s bumping into something much softer. Max stiffens, holding out his hands to stabilize whoever he’d just accidentally smashed into.

 

Max feels them pull away just as fast, blinking a few times. Until he realizes who it is.

 

“Hey, was just looking for you,” he murmurs, only because Bradley is walking away from him, back towards two big doors that have a not-so-pleasant ‘Gamma Head Room - DO NOT ENTER’ sign. Max is confused, feels a slight pang in his chest at being so blatantly ignored by someone who had just swept him off his damn feet not even an hour ago. What a douche. Yet he follows the other boy across the hall, picking up the pace to reach out and grab at Bradley’s arm.

 

When his fingers touch Bradley’s arm, he feels the fabric of the shirt get torn away from him quickly, like he’s expecting it. The older boy spins around on him, looking like he’s absolutely fuming, ready to kick the younger Goof out of the frat house completely.

 

“ What could you possibly want from me, Goof?” Bradley hisses, and Max sees the way his eyes scan the wide hallway around them. Max blatantly looks around, the many bodies of other students surrounding them. His face falls drastically, eyes trailing back to Bradley to see the panic begin to set in under the mean exterior.

He was really starting to get better at reading Bradley.

 

Max stares for another hard second, letting the emotions process through his body before taking a deep breath. And he’d thought he was emotionally repressed after today.

 

There’s always worse.

 

Max grins, stumbling toward Bradley like the best form of intoxication would do to a kid. He watches Bradley flinch back, out of his way, leaving Max a direct path to the room.

 

“Wanna see wha’ th’ big king’a Gammas is hidin’ in his room,” he hics, really selling the act, and pushes through one of the two large doors. “Y’got your girlfriend in there? Maybe she’ll like t’see me.” Bradley is charging in after him, cursing as Max says everything so loudly .

 

“You damn drunk! You can’t just let yourself into other people’s rooms like you own the place -”

 

Max shuts the door with a slam of his foot, successfully blocking off the rest of the world to just the two of them again. He turns, drunkenness wiped off his being and replaced with the anger he had felt just prior to this.

 

It takes Bradley aback, almost like he really fell for that whole act. Max glares.

 

“You sure like running away when it's convenient,” Max breathes, taking a step closer to the other boy. It's not hard to notice how he doesn't move away this time, staring back at Max like a prey being hunted. “What was that?”

 

Bradley feigns ignorance, “Don't know what you mean. You were acting like a fool out there.”

 

Max sneers, throwing his hand up and turning back into the room. It's much bigger than the dorm room he shares with Bobby and P.J., kept tidy for the most part as well. The bed isn't made, it could use a vacuum, but Bradley is clean.

 

“Definitely feel like one after all the shit you're pulling,” he mumbles out, trudging over to the bed to sit down. It's much comfier than the porch swing by far, Max immediately falling onto his back into it.

 

It has a faint scent of expensive cologne and lavender. He can't help but feel his nose twitch, remembering the same smell from Bradley's hair when they had gotten so close earlier. “So, what were you doing in the library earlier?”

 

“ What ?” Bradley breathes out, exasperated beyond belief.

 

“I saw you. With that guy. Archie, or whatever.”

 

“Arthur. And I don't know what you mean.”

 

“Well, for starters, you were practically dry-humping in public if that helps ring a few bells. Unless you're doing that a lot, then I can tell you that your stupid Callaway golf shoes got some scuffs on them today.”

 

He can hear Bradley slowly approach him soon after, keeping his distance for God knows what reason with him. “You don't know the whole story.”

 

Max rolls his eyes. “Would be real nice if I did. All I got is some second-hand from that douchebag that I can't trust.”

 

“And you trust me ?”

 

“As far as I can throw you. We can test it.”

 

“Stop kidding. What in the world do you have to think you can trust me after everything?”

 

Max, begrudgingly, pushes himself back up from the bed. Bradley is actually surprisingly close, standing hardly a foot from where Max is sitting on the bed. He hates the mind games, all the questions, when all he wants is answers for once.

 

“You're a cheater. You act like a sociopath. You avoid me like the plague unless you decide you want to pull my pigtails, then you corner me in a hallway and toy with my emotions, then leave and avoid me again,” Max spells out, slowly, watching each word make Bradley cringe a little more. “So, no, I guess I don't trust you. But I know you won't lie to me. You've got no reason to.”

 

Both boys stare at each other for what feels like forever, Max situating himself more comfortably into the bed again during it. He has all night, if he really has to do this.

 

Thankfully, Bradley makes a choked noise. Or, not so thankfully, since Max can clearly tell the guy is struggling with all this.

 

“I can't , Max,” Bradley whispers, hand covering his face in an act of desperation.

 

Max stomps his foot softly to gain the other's attention, and when wet, blue eyes stray back to him, Max shrugs.

 

“Then tell me why.”

 

Bradley shudders, taking what seems like calming breaths, and Max lets him.

 

His voice breaks, “Everything will fall apart if I do anything. Nothing will go in my favor here, I-” Bradley slumps back against his dresser, using those wild hand motions to express his emotions once more. “I can't go to college without money, Max. He supplies everything . My name will be ruined, and it will be my fault. I'll be the shortcoming all over again. The X Games was one thing already, he won't… he would never be okay with this. Me .”

 

It's like a weight is taken off Bradley's shoulders, if the deep breath he takes is anything to go off of. Max watches, eyes kept steady and unaffected. That only seems to make Bradley's reaction worse.

 

He waves his hand at Max, pinching at his nose. “Nobody outside of the fraternity except you and your friends know. And then… Arthur. He… it wasn't supposed to be more than what he'd made it out to be. I go back because he's right , nobody else is going to want this,” Bradley's voice is soft, guilt-ridden. “It's so hard to be something I'm not , Max. I'm supposed to be a winner, I'm supposed to be down there enjoying the party with my brothers like the leader I'm acclaimed to be, I'm supposed to be straight . But here I am, none of them. Who is going to accept that? Not him.”

 

Max nods after a long second of letting those words sink in, Bradley's shaking breath the only noise filling in empty air between them other than the soft sound of music barely heard through those double doors. He sighs, “You're not supposed to do or be anything, Brad.”

 

There's a sudden complete silence, begging Max to continue without a real word of need.

 

“My dad wants me to do great, big things. But that's just ‘cause he's my dad, and even if I don't do ‘em, he'll still be there for me. That's just what a dad is supposed to do. He wants me to be happy and safe, more than anything,” he continues, feeling the way a pair of eyes bare holes into his body like a magnifying glass to an ant. “I get to be who I am, and that makes me happy. Same for anyone else. But I don't really care what anyone else thinks, because I'm happy.”

 

Max stands up from the bed now, missing the comfort against his sore lower back, but he's stepping toward Bradley first and foremost. “I've been thinking all day. About you. About how weird it would be for me to like someone like you after everything that's happened. I've never liked a guy before.”

 

The way Bradley looks at him now is akin to a frightened, worn out child finally being given the thing they've been craving their whole life. One that has seen the worst side of life a child can, from that of their caregiver. Max can't help but feel pity for him, if only the slightest bit of it.

 

“I didn’t think about what strangers would think. Sure, my friends would be confused, but they'd come around. I was conflicted, wondered why I suddenly started to think this way,” he gently grabs Bradley's wrist to stop him from rubbing his poor eye raw from swiping at tears before they even get to fall. “But then I realized it wasn't sudden. What we have is fun . Makes me feel alive and filled with adrenaline like only skating has. You having a good face only adds to it.”

 

He pins the last piece on to make it a little less hard for Bradley, earning a sniffle of amusement in return. Max gently rubs his thumb on the back of Bradley's wrist, looking to the side while he lets the other boy gather his bearings.

 

The bathroom door is ajar.

 

~

 

Hands of an angel led him somewhere quickly, it felt like. In reality, it was just Bradley quickly and quietly taking him to the closest bathroom that happened to be the one connected to his bedroom.

 

Max hardly held the vomit in long enough before he was barfing into the perfectly well-kept toilet, not afraid in the slightest to lay his head onto the side of the seat. It was so messy, his head swimming, it had even gotten onto his t-shirt in the end. He groaned loudly, hearing the other boy pace the length and width of the bathroom for a good couple minutes before he’d finally settled.

 

And by settled, that meant sitting next to Max and swiping his ear out of the range of the toilet bowl when he saw the boy gag again.

 

“Easy, easy.” Bradley had soothed, and Max remembers actually being comforted by it. It was unfamiliar territory in so many ways, and yet it made his body shiver and slump further. He felt those fingers gradually, so slowly, move to the back of his neck to rub lightly. Max sighed, feeling the twisting and turning in his gut finally let up.

 

After only a couple more minutes it had seemed, Max felt okay-ish again. He looked over at Bradley, who had a panicked, guilty, and yet adoring expression on his attractive, ugly face all at once.

 

“Why the hell did you do that?” He had asked Max, like he was asking what the meaning of life could possibly be. “You didn’t have to, I… I could’ve handled it.”

 

Max snickered, a tired smile appearing. “Didn’t really look it,” he chirped back, voice rough.

 

It didn’t seem Bradley found the amusement, still looking about the same. If not more concerned. “... You aren’t grossed out,” He stated, a fact.

 

Max nodded slowly against the toilet, eyes closed for the moment. “No reason to be.”

 

It went quiet for a little while, and Max remembered hearing Bradley anxiously tapped at the bathtub with those short, perfect fingernails with no real rhythm.

 

“Max, I-”

 

“Brad,” Max cut off, opening his eyes at that point, because he knew that Bradley’s desperate face would forever be seared into his mind. Eyes showing the most vulnerability they ever had in their time knowing each other. “You didn’t deserve that.”

 

He watched Bradley’s face morph into something like disbelief, then quickly hardened into something more reliable. His typical wall of anger, but Max wasn’t having it.

 

The Goof sat up from the toilet, surprising the other man enough that he jumped, blinking at him. Max looked at him, dead-set.

 

“I don’t care what that guy said ‘bout you two or anything. Really,” he reassured, ending up sliding toward where Bradley had been seated on the edge of the bathtub to prop himself up. He looked directly up to Bradley now, who refused to look back at him. Max had paused, goofy smile returning. “I dunno when I realized, but you’re not too shitty. Even then, you don’t need some jock douchebag telling you what you need or to air out the garbage in your life. You decide that.”

 

Bradley had gave a dry laugh at that, flicking his thumb over his eye like Max wouldn’t notice. He did. His head fell onto the bathtub’s side, looking at the other boy through his eyelids.

 

They were quiet for a little while longer, Bradley offering a sniffle here and there until he spoke up.

 

“... Thank you,” he murmured, finally calmed down enough to do more than panic. Max chuckled, even though it hurt.

 

“Don’t mention it,” he hummed, watching Bradley move and look back down to him again. “Seriously. Might get strange looks if you start being grateful.”

 

Bradley gave an airy laugh, an actual laugh . One that wasn’t filled with ill-intent or evil purpose. Max remembered it clear as glass now, and the way it had made his heart skip.

 

“Wow,” Max breathed, lifting his head when Bradley gave him an eyebrow of confusion. “You’ve got a pretty laugh.”

 

Bradley flustered up fast , which was a sight for literally sore eyes. “You’re drunk.”

 

“Not anymore,” he countered, hand still placed on the bathtub near Bradley’s hip. “You’ve never laughed like that. It’s nice.”

 

With a scoff, the other man waved him off, trying and failing to hide his face by turning away. All Max had to do was look around him, grinning. 

 

“Didn’t know you swung that way,” Bradley uttered, and Max at the time had been too carefree to really think too deeply on it.

 

“I just like pretty things. Didn’t notice it when you wanted me dead for a while there.”

 

A scoff. “Shut up. I never wanted that.”

 

“Almost succeeded anyway…”

 

“Do not . I’ve felt like shit since.”

 

“Rightfully.”

 

“Are you gonna be a dick the entire time you use my personal bathroom as your personal shitting grounds?”

 

“Are you gonna let me hear that pretty laugh again?”

 

Bradley stuttered, fumbling for words as Max snickered. It seemed to have some affect on Bradley, since he finally managed to complete a full sentence after hearing him vocalize his amusement and watched the older boy’s face change.

 

“Only if I get to hear yours, too.”

 

~

 

Bradley shifts in his spot, and while Max thinks he's about to move away from him again, he doesn't. The exact opposite, actually.

 

He feels Bradley's weight shift into him, the soft light of Bradley's room showing just how exhausted the other man was. While Max wasn't taller than the other man, he was more than welcoming of it, wrapping an understanding arm around his middle to keep him upright. It felt nice to be the one keeping someone from falling down today.

 

“What makes you happy, Bradley?” He murmurs, careful with how he pets at the older boy's back.

 

There isn't an immediate answer, which is okay. Max wasn't sure what truly made him happy for a while, either. It was never too late to find out.

 

“... Your laugh,” Max's ear perks up at that, eyes twitching with surprise from the answer. Bradley doesn't budge, but Max can see the fluster rise up enough to tinge his ear pink.

 

Well, who was he to deny happiness?

 

Max chuckles, tugging Bradley a little closer. “You've got a sick sense of humor, Brad.”

 

Slight movement. “Not as sick as you were last night. It took me an hour to clean.”

 

Max's laughter picks up, turning into soft snickers.

 

He feels Bradley shake against him, almost worrying his mouth shut again, but it calms him to hear a little cackle from Bradley, too.

 

“Laughing at your own expense is cruel, man,” Max laughs, feeling Bradley pull away more and noting the smile on the other boy's face now, still giggling.

 

“What's cruel is that you lost all your change when you stood up to leave, and told me it was my tip,” Bradley drawled, his voice no longer trembling, regaining his confidence whilst giving that beautiful, gentle laugh Max had gotten to experience last night.

 

Max full on snorts this time, Bradley’s hands touching his chest and shoulder now, which only adds to his comfort here. “My bad, man. Was it not enough for your services? I-”

 

There's a second's pause, then the room is still.

 

Max's eyes close. It's warm where their lips connect, a shuffle as they both ease into the calm, sweet action of a kiss.

 

It's not long, and when they pull away, Max opens his eyes to see a self-satisfied Bradley that looks the happiest - actually happy - Max has seen him.

 

He can't help it. The damn thing just escapes again, a prolonged, shy ‘ hyuuuck …’ shocking his system.

 

Bradley beams, the hand on Max's shoulder sliding up and cups his cheek.

 

“Yeah, that one,” he admires, leaning back in with a sniff only to kiss Max again.

 

Well, doesn’t that just solve a lot of his problems.