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Max was packing up his bookbag when he heard the conversation. A handful of guys a few tables over weren't trying to hide it, laughing loud and practically shouting at one another.
“Did you hear about Uppercrust?” The one with the foggy glasses chortled.
“Yeah, can’t believe it. Fucking hysterical," replied the one with the bad haircut.
“Right? Now that asshole’s no better than the rest of us. Can’t wait for him to fall from that pedestal," said a mousy guy with braces.
“Wonder if the poor bastard even knows how to cook for himself.” Foggy Glasses cackled.
“Well, he’ll be kicked out of the Gamma house by the end of term, so he’ll have to figure it out.” Braces snorted.
Max threw the strap of his pack over his shoulder and moved closer to them.
“Hey, what’re you guys talking about?” He asked hesitantly.
The group gave him a glance and seemed to deem him worthy of the gossip.
Bad Haircut grinned. “You didn’t hear? Brad got cut off. Dear ol' daddy pulled the plug on his trust fund. He’s fucked.” He emphasized, looking ecstatic about it.
“Oh, shit.” Max said, eyebrows raising.
“Yeah, I even heard he’s had to get a job at Bean Scene.” Foggy Glasses continued laughing, and it dissolved into a coughing fit.
“I didn’t hear that part! Oh my god, we totally have to go laugh at him.” Braces said and the group shared a round of high-fives.
Max trailed away, not bothering to announce his departure.
So, the king of campus was down on his luck? Max wanted to feel some sort of...glee, but he didn't. His dad had always told him to treat everyone with kindness, and if someone was being, for lack of a better term, a shitbag, it was because they were dealing with their own insecurities. On top of that, the whole school was definitely talking about this, there was no way the gossip was limited to just that group of guys. Fuck, this had to be hard on Bradley. Max felt a pang of empathy and let out a sigh, quickening his pace to his next class.
*
Headphones in, volume up, Max pattered to the laundry room, nodding his head to the beat. Once he reached the door, he turned his back to it and pushed into the humid room. Max liked doing laundry late at night, hardly anyone else was ever there. True to form, there was only one dryer running. However, there was already one occupant.
Bradley, examining a washing machine with a perplexed look on his face.
Max set his basket down and cleared his throat, removing one earbud. Bradley glanced over at him, then did a double-take and scowled, refocusing his attention on the machine. Max began his load, dumping in detergent and then his clothes. He could feel Bradley eyeing him as he shut the lid, washing machine shaking to life.
For a moment, Max just stood there contemplating. In the end, compassion won out.
“Need help?” Max offered, ticking his head slightly towards Bradley, but not fully.
“No, thank you.” Bradley snapped tersely.
Well. He tried. “Fine, suit yourself.” Max replied with a shrug and spun on his heel, heading for the door.
“Wait." He heard defeatedly behind him. He glanced back, eyeing Bradley's downcast eyes. A beat, and then, "Okay.”
Max waltzed over to the machine, hands in his pockets. He took his other earbud out and pulled his phone from his pocket, pausing his music.
“First of all, don't put it on delicate.” He said, pointing at the wash mode.
“But these clothes are expensive.” Bradley protested.
“These are jeans.” Max blinked.
“Yes, delicate jeans.”
“No, that’s -- look, I get that, but it’s more for like, silk, and other materials like...lingerie.” He said, looking away and rubbing the back of his head.
“Oh.” Bradley said softly.
Max's eyes darted around. “Yeah, so unless you’ve got…ling -- ”
“No!” Bradley interrupted, eyes comically wide.
Max laughed and held his hands up, “Okay, okay, I’m just explaining! So. Jeans aren’t considered delicate.”
“But -- ”
“Look, do you want help?” Max cut in.
“...yes.” Bradley replied in a small voice, shoulders sagging.
“Okay, so put it on permanent press. Now add the detergent.” Max told him.
Bradley spun the dial on the machine and paused. “They…they don't provide that?”
“No, they don't. Here, you can use mine.”
Max walked back over to his basket and grabbed his detergent. Bradley took the jug from him and went to pour and Max quickly reached out to stop him, hand grabbing Bradley's arm.
“No no no, you have to measure it.” He explained.
“Measure it?” Bradley echoed before glancing down at Max's hand.
He removed it and cleared his throat. “With the cap.”
Bradley seemed to understand and set the cap down, measuring out a stream of blue liquid before dumping it in. “Okay, now what?”
“Add your clothes. Some people separate them by color but I’m not that picky. It’s up to you. I would just advise against putting anything red in with your whites.”
“Okay.” Bradley took hold of his bin and turned it over, clothes tumbling in, shoving them down with his hands and closing the lid.
“Press start, then use your laundry card to pay.”
“Laundry card?”
Jesus Christ, he doesn't know anything, Max mused. Bradley was going to have a rough go of it. “Uh, okay, you can use mine this time but you need to go straight to Admin and get a laundry card. You can move funds from your bank account to the card online.”
“Oh…thanks.” Bradley said, taking the card Max held out and staring at the machine.
"You tap it." Max pointed out.
Bradley quickly held the card up to the reader and once it beeped he handed it back to Max, almost pathetically.
The machine creaked and groaned, sputtered, and finally jolted to life. Max and Bradley stood in awkward silence for a few beats before Bradley asked, “Why are you helping me?”
Max glanced down at the floor, lips twitching. “I…don’t know.” He finally admitted.
Silence, and then, “I’ve been…horrible to you.” Bradley admitted.
“I know.” Max said, raising his head and looking at Bradley.
“I wouldn’t have helped you.” He pointed out.
“I know.” Max said again with a small smile.
“Well. Thanks.” Bradly said, crossing his arms and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Yeah.”
Bradley cleared his throat and straightened his stance. “So, now what?”
“Now? Put a timer on your phone, I’ll do the same with mine, then in forty minutes we come back and switch them into the dryer.”
“Alright.” Bradley said, taking his phone from his pocket.
“And I can introduce you to the world of dryer sheets and wool balls.”
Bradley flicked his eyes up from his phone and sighed defeatedly, “Fantastic.”
“So…anything else you need help with?”
“Uh, not right now, but, ya know. Thanks.”
“Sure.”
Max turns and walks back over to his basket, gathering his things and preparing to leave. One thing he learned is that college students will take anything that's left behind. He paused at the door before turning around and marching back over to the washing machine, setting his basket down once again.
“Hey, look, this is…whatever, give me your phone.” He mumbled, holding his hand out.
“Huh?” Bradley asked, looking at Max's hand warily.
“I’ll add my number. If you, ya know, need any help or have any questions about…anything, just text me.”
Bradley narrowed his eyes at Max, looking him up and down, as if trying to detect other motives. Max simply waited. “Oh…kay.” He finally replied, gingerly handing over his phone.
It was the newest model, of course, and would probably have to go once Bradley saw his monthly bill. He added his number and gave the phone back to Bradley. “Here.”
Bradley, face flustered, took his phone back and quietly said, “Thanks, Max.”
And it sounded genuine.
Smiling, Max replied, “No problem, Bradley.”