Chapter Text
Bradley isn’t sure why he’s even getting dressed right now. After the X games incident and his subsequent dethroning, the ex-president has decidedly hit rock bottom. He spent the majority of summer break pulling connections and appeasing his father, who “graciously” didn’t get him expelled so he can finish his degree in relative peace. Hell- he’s lucky to not be in jail or on a hit list- although he wasn’t so sure about the later. Tank took time to forgive Bradley, but it wouldn’t be the first time he pulled something like this. Everyone knows how self-centered Bradley is and what he thought about his “goons.” It wasn’t necessarily a secret. Despite the forgiveness from his childhood friend, the Fraternity chapter still forced his resignation from president for obvious reasons. However, they couldn’t manage to kick him out of the Gamma house since his father had funded most of it.
The first few weeks of the new semester flew by in a blur. Bradley felt numb for most of it, walking around campus pointedly ignoring the whispers that followed him. When a Gamma “accidentally” tripped him down a flight of stairs in his Calculus lecture hall, he couldn't even bring himself to glare at his assailant. Every night, he would find a new bruise somewhere on his ribs or legs. And he deserved everything he had coming for him.
Tank knocked on his door for the third time that night. “Baby, are you ok in there? Still coming down later?”
Bradley scrutinized himself in the mirror. He looked the same as he always did, except for the splotches of concealer hiding a fresh bruise on his right cheek he had gotten when a Gamma’s car door opened coincidentally as he was passing by on his skateboard. At least his signature polo, sweater and jeans gave him some comfort.
“One second!” Bradley tells Tank through the wall as he finishes buckling his belt, only to realize he’s gone down another size. A consequence of his permanent brain fog he’s had as of lately, he presumes. Grimacing, he walks over to open his door.
“Bradley, Sweetheart, it’s good to see you up for something other than classes.”
“Remind me why I’m doing this again.” Bradley sighs, already discouraged.
Tank puts his arm around Bradley’s shoulder, pulling him out of his safe zone. “Because things aren’t going to get better overnight, and the Bradley I knew wouldn’t go down without a fight.”
“The Bradley you knew might already be dead.”
Tanks' eyes roll dramatically. “Don’t go cynical on me, Baby. We both know he’s in there somewhere. Now let’s go get you something to eat before any alcohol goes near that body of yours. You’re already enough of a lightweight.”
Bradley feels his mouth twitch slightly against his will. “What would I do without you, pal.”
“Max probably would’ve kicked your ass the first time you met.”
Bradley feigns offense with an offended hand on his chest, knowing full well Tank is right. While he had some height on Max Goof, Bradley was undeniably much slimmer. The man probably had a good weight advantage at this point too. Bradley avoided interacting with him at all costs- even going out of his way after a shared class he was a TA in. But he would have to be blind not to notice the way Max had filled out over the summer. And he wasn’t deaf either, despite popular opinion. He couldn’t help but overhear the girls sitting next to him in his English Composition II class gush about the new piercings he had acquired as well. Max already had his ears stretched, and now more piercings? Who was he trying to impress? And why did Bradley want to see them so badly?
Probably so he could make fun of him. No upstanding member of society would go around and poke holes in their bodies. Deviants. Bradley doesn’t care one bit that he hasn’t seen him up close since last semester. He especially doesn’t care that Max will be at the Gamma house tonight, as Tank decided it was time to hold their first party of the semester. Tank invited him in the name of unity or whatever. He mentally lists hiding spots as he’s dragged to the Gamma kitchen.
◈ ◈ ◈
By the time 10 PM comes around, the party is already in full swing. Music booms out of the surround sound system of the frat house. A DJ and a sea of people beat to the music in the main room. Laugher and chatter bubbles throughout the crowd. In the study next door, Bradley has chosen a couch chair to disappear into as he nurses his third cup full of Pinot Noir. A buzz settles under his skin that’s making the crowd a whole lot more tolerable. Other loud students fill the sofas and chairs around him, but he’s just glad none of them are Gamma. He’s already dealing with enough as it is.
Speaking of a lot to deal with, Max Goof decides it is this opportune moment to barge in with Bobby draped over his shoulder. His face is turned down as he dotes on his friend. Bradley can't help but stare at his rival as he basically carries his friend through the room. Max’s black hair reflects off the floor lamps, black wisps of hair swaying with his effort. Bobby looks like he might pass out or vomit. Or both simultaneously. Either way, Bradley doesn’t want to be involved and frantically searches for an escape route. His stomach sinks to his feet when he realizes the couple across from him on the sofa have gotten up to offer their seat, effectively trapping Bradley into the corner of the room. Bradley prays that his chair will swallow him whole. Max lays Bobby out on the sofa and sits near his feet, body facing a flustered Bradley. But not flustered because Max has a new black eyebrow piercing that matches his ear tunnels. And not flustered because of the symmetrical silver hoops that go through his bottom lip that are currently gleaming in the dim lighting of the room. Bradley is just flustered because… the couch didn’t do its job to absorb him like he asked.
With Bobby finally settled, Max spared a glance up at his surroundings, finding Bradley’s eyes for the first time in months. Max’s eyes shoot up in genuine surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting to see Bradley at a party in his own home. Still an idiot.
Max initiates the conversation, Bradley hearing his voice for the first time in months. He can't help but note the way Max’s eyes assess his face. Bradley tries not to curl into himself further, self conscious of his weight loss and concealed bruises. “Bradley, it’s been a while.” Max began, his tone carrying a hint of concern. “I was starting to wonder if you had transferred.”
Bradley felt a surge of conflicting emotions flood through him. Part of him wanted to disappear, to fade into the background and escape the intensity of Max's gaze. But another part craved connection, for the chance to bridge the distance between them. The distance he placed the first time they met all those months ago. Bradley had debated transferring actually- filed out a withdrawal form and everything. But something kept him from going through with it. Maybe it was the last of his pride slipping out. Or maybe he was just a glutton for punishment. Regardless, here he was. Being punished.
With a heavy sigh, Bradley surrendered to the pull of the conversation, his gaze meeting Max's with a mixture of defiance and something unsure. "Like you can get rid of me that easily. You'd miss me too much, Maxie." He retorted, a hint of playful bravado lacing his words.
Max's muffled laughter filled the air, a warm and comforting sound that washed over Bradley like a gentle breeze. “Yeah, I didn't think so either," Max chuckled, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. "And don't call me that, Brad. You sound like my dad."
A smirk tugged at the corners of Bradley's lips, his pulse quickening at the playful banter between them. "Only if you stop calling me that stupid nickname," he countered, his tone laced with mock indignation. The thought of anyone referring to him by anything other than his full given name sent a shiver down his spine, a silent reminder of the walls he had built around himself.
But as he spoke, Bradley couldn't help but notice the way Max's laughter softened the edges of his defenses, melting away the barriers that had long separated them. And for the first time in a long while, Bradley allowed himself to entertain the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as hated as he had thought.
"Nah, It suits you too well," Max insisted with a playful glint in his eyes, his voice a gentle tease that sent a flutter through Bradley's chest. "But seriously, where have you been? Even the waitresses in The Bean Scene have been asking about you."
Bradley felt a flush creeping up his neck at the unexpected concern in Max's voice. He shifted uncomfortably, the weight of Max's gaze almost too much to bear. "I... I've just been busy," he stammered, his words faltering under Max's scrutiny.
Alone with his thoughts, Bradley's mind raced with uncertainty. Was Max really worried about him? The thought sent a surge of warmth through him, a flicker of hope amidst the shadows of doubt that had clouded his mind. But hope for…what exactly? Friendship? Bradley almost killed him. But before he could dwell on it further, Bradley's attention was drawn to Tank approaching him with a smirk, his presence interrupting the fragile moment of connection between him and Max.
“Don’t stop your conversation on my account, Ladies. I just came over to check on our friend Bobby.” Bradley had all but forgotten about Bobby’s limp body draped on the couch- his mouth hanging wide open.
Max waves his hand in the air dismissively. “He’s fine- just needs a power nap and he’ll be back to life in no time. Too many edibles.”
Tank nods in agreement. “Well if he’s alive in a couple minutes, a group in the den wants to play Spin the Bottle. Figured he'd be interested.”
Bradley groans internally. The last time he played, he ended up in the Frat pool fully clothed. But with Tank's invitation hanging in the air, Bradley found himself torn between the desire to avoid attention and the temptation of potentially getting closer to Max. Not that he cared that much or anything.
Max glanced at Bradley, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "What do you say, Brad? You up to joining us? Or are you scared?"
Bradley hesitated, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. On one hand, the idea of playing Spin the Bottle with Max reignited a sense of rivalry he hadn't felt in months. But on the other hand, he couldn't shake the worry about the Gammas and the potential for them to pull something stupid- or worse.
Before he could respond, Tank nudged him playfully. "Come on, Bradley. Live a little," he urged.
With a resigned sigh, Bradley relented, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Fine," he conceded, his heart pounding in anticipation. "But if things get too wild, I'm blaming both of you."
As they made their way to the den, Bradley couldn't shake the feeling of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, a mixture of excitement and anxiety swirling within him.