Bradley had been 237 days sober when he lost the X-Games. The first 30 days of his sobriety had been the most excruciating month in his life but in the end it hadn't been so bad, and he started to feel all the benefits of not getting drunk every chance he got.
Looking at himself in the mirror the night after the X-Games though, purple-blue bruise around his eye, a torn lip and a scraped cheek—to hell with it all. To hell with the effort; he craved the tingle of his body, the fuzziness of his brain, the blur of his vision, the ease of his heart. To hell with what he promised himself, and here with the soft burn in his neck as he downed a glass of whiskey.
The sensation he had missed for so long washed over him and he finally relaxed, locked in his room, wallowing in self-pity. This was for the best.
The next morning he was told to move out. He was told that he's being kicked out of the Gammas and to not crawl back begging, and he didn't even care. His brain was still buzzing with a residual of last night's alcohol and he couldn't wait to move out. He couldn't wait to have an apartment all to himself where he could drink away his feelings without the fear of someone peering over his shoulder and judging him. He couldn't wait to let himself indulge in alcohol once more.
Soon his days were encapsulated in fog, like a field on a cold humid morning, blending together seamlessly as he started attending most of his classes with a shot of something in his system.
It was his f*cking luck, that some weeks later, after the one and only class he shared with the boy, Max came up to him. "Hey Brad! I was wondering-"
"It's Brad-ley. You keep forgetting the -ley." Bradley interrupted him in a tired voice, not particularly interested in what Max had to say to him—what he had been wondering about—and continued walking to escape through the door of the classroom. To Bradley's dismay, Max followed suit.
"O-kay... Well- As I was saying-" Max cleared his throat, "You're like- smart at that stuff, aren't you?" He asked, pointing a thumb back to the classroom which they had just walked out of.
"Derivatives and integrals?" Bradley raised an unamused eyebrow at the shorter boy, observing the way a black curl hung across his face, partially blocking the view of the dark iris hiding behind it. After Max nodded Bradley tore away his gaze and replied simply, "I suppose you could say that."
"There any way you could- You know... Tutor me?" And yeah okay, that might have sobered up the remaining few alcohol absorbed cells in Bradley's body as he came to a halt, once again staring at the freshman.
"If you don't understand the materials why did you take the class in the first place? It's not like it's mandatory for your major."
"I didn't think it would be this hard. I did fine in my extra-curricular math in high school, I didn't expect this to be twice as difficult." Max replied, eyes trained away from Bradley's face and gaze.
"Can't you ask like- literally anyone else?" Bradley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between the fingers of his right hand, it's elbow resting in his left palm.
"I don't know anyone else..." Max confessed, a hint of red tinting his cheeks. Bradley was not drunk enough to deal with the Goof right now.
"Jesus f*cking-" he muttered under his breath, head still in hand, before straightening back up and starting to walk away while speaking at a normal volume, "Be at the library tomorrow at three. Sharp." Hell if he was gonna explore all the crevices of his brain to figure out why the f*ck he agreed to helping out.
It had been a coin toss, in Bradley's brain, whether he would come to the tutoring sober so he could explain everything properly, or drinking a bit to lose the hard shell and hatred he harboured for the boy he was about to teach. He ended up choosing the latter, having a solid gulp from the bottle occupying his bedside table right before leaving for the library to be there at their established time.
"Max." Bradley greeted the other when he waltzed up to him with two minutes to spare before three o'clock.
"Brad." Max sat down next to his senior, a faint hint of a smile dancing across his features.
"Brad-ley... So, are there specifics you need explaining or do you want to go over everything and build from the ground up?" Bradley eyed Max pulling out notebooks from his backpack and opening up notes from their shared class.
"Well, I keep getting lost with all the rules of it. Like I have them written down here and when I'm solving the problems I follow them but I only seem to be able to get the right answer maybe half the time." Max explained, pointing to two highlighted rectangles with the assigned values of variables and constants for each derivatives and integrals. The stray curl from yesterday was once again in Max's face, leaving Bradley eager to push it back and wondering how the other boy could even see properly with a chunk of hair right in front of his eye.
"I see," Bradley cleared his throat, gaze shifting towards his own notebooks and hands busying themselves fishing for a certain one, full of old equations and problems from past years. "Here, write this problem down and show me how you'd solve it." He said, placing a notebook in front of Max with a piece of paper over the portion of the page with the solution for the derivative.
It turned out that even a generous gulp of a 40% vodka was nothing compared to solving derivatives and integrals for two hours. Bradley ended the study session as sober as he could get with fatigue surging through his whole body. He needed a nap. He needed a nap right now or he would fall asleep while walking back to his apartment and that seemed like a lot of hassle. A quick power-nap in the library it was.
He woke up to a hand soothing his shoulder and a familiar voice calling his name. He blinked himself fully awake, getting slightly startled at the sight of Tank sitting on a chair next to him. He straightened up, staring into Tank's eyes trying to come up with something, anything, to say, but falling short and settling on a quiet sorry and fleeing before Tank could stop him. He pointedly ignored the repetition of his name as he walked off out of the library, beelining it for his apartment.
———
"Morning Brad." A person made themself known, now walking in stride with the brunette across the campus' main square.
"You're talking unnecessarily loudly." Bradley simply retorted, having woken up with a killer headache, most likely caused by the sweet sweet liquor he had drunk last night.
"This is how I normally talk." Max raised an amused eyebrow at Bradley's huff of frustration and continued speaking. "Partied too hard last night? Was there a Gamma party I never heard about?"
"How, the hell, would I know." A rough edge crept its way into Bradley's voice. He wouldn't be mocked like that by some stupid freshman.
"Well- I mean you are a Gamma. I assumed every Gamma knows about every party in their association?"
"Stop mocking me. I'm really not in the mood right now." Bradley sped up his pace, but unfortunately so did baby Goof by jumping on his board and riding alongside him.
"What are you even talking about? I'm not trying to mock you."
Bradley just hummed sarcastically, the loudness of his pulse in his skull making him more agitated than normally and enough that he wasn't even sorry as he kicked the board from underneath Max's feet.
"What's your f*cking problem?!" Max yelled at him from where he was sitting on the ground, Bradley giving him one quick glance over his shoulder while still walking in his original direction. His quip died in his throat when he noticed the blood discoloring the torn blue denim on Max's knee into a deep brown. His legs stopped moving as he stared at it, about to turn around and help Max up and apologize, but then he looked up at Max's face, scrunched into a grimace resembling anger and confusion mixed together. Before Bradley could stop myself he was walking away from the scene, thoughts trained on the quiz in his upcoming class (and the drink he would have right after.)
———
The next time they saw each other was at a Gamma party which Bradley managed to sneak into, he was the opposite of welcomed after all, but it sounded like a good place to get drunk and take his mind off f*cking Maximilian, because apparently, he now couldn't stop thinking about him and wanting to apologize. He had been, successfully, avoiding the boy for the better part of the past three weeks, so of course his luck had to come crashing down when he was two beers and four shots of vodka deep into his drunkenness.
Bradley first noticed Max, who was pouring himself a cup of mixed substances, from the living room, immediately hiding behind the big plant that stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He managed to successfully sneak back out from the house, decidedly needing some fresh air and cooling down, and settled on the side of the house. He sat down in the grass and propped his back up against the cool stone of the base.
Apparently, however, that was the worst place he could have chosen, because not ten minutes later a dark figure was rounding the corner shouting back inside at his friends in a fond alteration of the voice that was yelling at him in rage not too long ago.
In the dim light from the street lamps and windows leading inside the Gamma Mu Mu building, Bradley couldn't take his eyes off the boy cluelessly but steadily approaching him. Bradley watched every movement as Max took the joint behind his ear, placed it between his lips and brought a lighter up to the end. A small fire flickered and ignited the end of the rolled up weed, and then Max's eyes finally surveyed his surroundings and landed on Bradley gazing up at him from the ground. After a beat of eye contact, Max exhaled a cloud of smoke and turned on his heels, seemingly deciding to find a new spot.
"Max, wait-" Bradley scrambled up to his feet, taking a few swift strides to get closer to the other, who, to Bradley's surprise, actually turned around. And just in time to see Bradley trip up on his own foot and catching his balance before he could fall flat on his face. "I um-" he cleared his throat, "Wanted to apologize. For knocking you off your skateboard. I didn't mean to take my frustration out on you nor hurt you. So, I'm sorry." Bradley waited to be laughed at, to be mocked either for how badly he slurred half of the words together or for his pathetic attempt at an apology.
Max's features softened and he took a slow drag from his joint before speaking. "I really wasn't mocking you. I was just gonna thank you for helping me with math, I didn't know you got kicked out of the Gammas. Tank told me when I asked him what was wrong with you."
"Oh. I thought that... Everyone knew that." Bradly cast his eyes on the ground, suddenly overrun with embarrassment.
"Tank's been worried about you, you know?" Max said softly, but loud enough so he could be heard over the music beaming from the inside after a second of silence. Bradley saw his feet shuffle a few steps towards him, not daring to raise is head back up.
"Yeah, right." He scoffed. Tank hated him because of what happened at the games. Because of the way Bradley would use him as his pawn instead of treating him like the lifetime long friend he'd been to him.
"He has." The tone of Max's voice more stern this time, Bradly registered his feet shuffling even closer and finally shot his head up, eyes focusing on Max's, freezing him in place. "He said something about you not doing well last year and he thinks it's happening again." A brief wave of fear that Tank told Max washed over Bradley before he steadied himself again with the more sensible thought that Tank wouldn't betray him like that. Tank promised he wouldn't tell anyone and Bradley trusts him.
"He has nothing to worry about." Bradley stated, eyes jumping around Max's features before wordlessly walking away, leaving the shorter boy standing alone.
———
"'Sup Brad." Somehow, Bradley found himself sitting at the library, once again about to help Max with more math, this time, unfortunately, very much sober.
"Will you ever stop with that stupid nickname, it's not my name." Bradley sighed as Max seated himself next to him, receiving a dopey smile and a shake of the head with a No in response. "f*cking hell... What do you need help with again?"
To say Bradley was tired was an understatement. He was exhausted, his head ached, his stomach felt like he'd been thrown on a lifeboat in the middle of an ocean and was trapped in a storm. He should have rescheduled because every single little mistake Max was making was getting on his nerves. He needed to chill.
"Jesus Christ it's not that hard, Max." Bradley finally snapped, "You just add this here, switch this for a constant and subtract there. What do you not understand about that?" His voice came out drained and with a sharp edge, and he daren't take a look at Max's expression. First of all he didn't care, and second of all he would start caring if he looked and he didn't want that.
After a pause Max finally spoke up, "Well sorry I'm not a genius like you and I'm struggling with this."
"It's not even that hard! Do the materials have to take time to settle in your brain for you to understand or are you just stupid?" At that Max started to pack his things up and Bradley didn't care. He wouldn't care he hurt Max. He wouldn't let himself.
"f*ck you, Brad." Max said, getting up from the table and walking away, finally then did Bradley look at him and remorse filled him to the brim as he watched the boy's back quickly making his way out of the library building.
"f*ck." Bradley mumbled to himself and stared at the sprawled out notebooks on the desk in front of him. A blue cover one to his right caught his eye, he didn't own one like that. He stretched a hand out to bring it closer to himself and quickly flipped through it, recognizing Max's handwriting from having stared at it for the past hour. "f*ck."
For some reason Bradley grew to cherish the blue notebook. It was filled with doodles next to calculations with the occasional, what Bradley suspected were, lyrics from Max's favorite songs. They sounded like lyrics, but Bradley didn't actually know any of them so he couldn't be sure. He started carrying the notebook everywhere he brought his backpack, under the guise of returning it to Max the next chance he got. Except he was avoiding Max again.
Until they ran into each other at a club. Bradley had some random guy grinding against him when he glanced towards the entrance and saw a mop of curly hair and a glint of piercings, reflecting the little light that was in the room. And f*ck, was Max pretty. Bradley immediately forgot the person behind him, pushing himself off and walking straight to the boy he had spotted.
"Max!" Bradley blurted out as soon as he was standing next to the boy, looking down at him with a smile.
"What do you want." Max retorted and oh right, last time they spoke Bradley was being an asshole, what's new.
"I'm sorry about saying those things to you. I didn't mean it, I swear, I was just exhausted. Would you wanna dance?" Bradley reached a hand out towards Max, waiting. To his surprise the younger boy took it, albeit a bit hesitantly, and then they were off, making their way through the crowd to find a good place to dance, and dance they did.
Alcohol coursing through every inch of Bradley's body, he was hyperaware of every part of him that touched Max. One second they were dancing separately and then they were holding hands again, moving their bodies to the rhythm of whatever song was playing. Before he could think properly, Bradley placed his other hand on Max's waist feeling electricity shock through his entire body. They stared right into the other's eyes, acknowledging the point of fusion of their bodies, doing nothing to rid themselves of it. Bradley slipped his had slightly lower, resting it on Max's hipbone, drawing drunk and jagged circles with his thumb against the fabric of Max's loose graphic t-shirt.
"You're really pretty, you know that?" Bradley spoke quietly when they were outside in front of the club, catching some fresh air, polluted by the cigarette smoke they were exhaling.
Max smiled back at Bradley, "You're really drunk, aren't you?"
"That has nothing to do with my perception of beauty, I'll have you know." Max giggled at that and Bradley was smitten. He felt so free, so at ease, his body tingly from the alcohol, mind open, expressing what he'd been suppressing since the boy refused to join his fraternity. If he could he would just stare at Max forever, study the edge of his jawline, the stretch of his earlobes, the pink tint to his lips, the bottom one encapsulated by silver rings, the thick horseshoe hanging from his nose, the bags under his chocolaty eyes, the fullness of his lashes, the dark eyebrows, both adorned with spiked bars, the patches of dark skin transitioning into the pale remainder and all the freckles. He wanted to count them and look for constellations, trace the lines formed by his vitiligo with a finger, feel the soft skin under his own.
He was doomed.
In the morning Bradley woke up with a terrible headache but at that point it was so normal he'd almost forgotten what it was like to wake up well rested and ready for the day. Lucky for him, it was his day off and he didn't have to bother with forcing his body to walk across campus and struggle to pay attention to the uninteresting topics in his classes.
A few hours later, after repeatedly opening the fridge and all of his cabinets to find no food what-so-ever, he settled on going to the grocery store to pick up some stuff he could make in the microwave. The sun was too bright, and the world around was too loud, and his whole body ached and itched with an itch he couldn't scratch away and then he ran into Max, because of course he did. Memories of last night swallowed him whole and he could almost feel Max's hand in his, like he had in the darkness of the club.
"Brad!" Max skated over to him when he noticed the boy.
"Hello Max," Bradley replied, giving up on correcting the other and he wanted, oh how he wanted, to be nice.
"I had an idea." Max proclaimed, stepping off his board and kicking it under his arm.
"You're talking really loudly."
"You've said that before and I'm talking at a normal volume. As I was that time. Maybe you shouldn't have gotten so drunk last night."
"You don't know what you're talking about." Bradley glared at the boy in front of him, and could feel himself losing his grip. He was so overstimulated.
"Right... Anyways, back to my idea. Would you wanna go out with me? We could go to a cafe, I know this awesome cheap one just off campus." Max smiled, dopey and adorable.
"Why would I wanna go anywhere with you." He didn't mean to say that. Hurt flashed across Max's features and resulted in clear confusion before turning into irritation. "Wait, I didn't mean-" Bradley reached out a hand but halted it mid air between the two.
"No it's fine," Max cut him off, "I know what you mean. Sorry I thought you might actually like me back. My bad for even suggesting it." He dropped his skateboard back onto the ground, jumped on it and pushed himself away. Bradley didn't stop him, maybe it was for the best, keeping everyone at an arm's length. He would have hurt Max more if he let himself do this.
The next day Bradley's sleep was interrupted by the doorbell sometime in the morning hours. He rolled his body off the bed and stacked one part on top of the other until he was standing, mostly straight. He took a sip of whatever burning liquid was on his nightstand, and headed towards the door to his apartment. As soon as he opened it, Tank pushed his way inside, closing it behind himself and crossing his arms on his chest.
"Bradley, baby, you need to snap out of it." He hadn't a clue why Tank would still bother with him after everything.
"No, thank you." Bradley replied, turning his back to Tank and setting course for his bedroom, until he was stopped by a hand wrapping around his wrist. He turned back to his old friend, trying to squirm his way out of the grip, unsuccessfully.
"I thought you'd realize how much you're slipping but apparently not. Did the loss of the games hit you that much? It's been months! And you're still the same sack of depressed that you were when it happened." Tank looked at Bradley quizzically and God, he wasn't nearly drunk enough to have this conversation—though Tank would probably oppose that, saying he was too drunk to have this conversation.
"Just leave me alone, Tank! This is none of your concern, I'm fine!"
"No you're not! You need help, Bradley. And I will get it for you even if I have to throw you into rehab, again."
"Why do you even care so much?!" Bradley could feel tears welling in his eyes, he was an asshole, he didn't deserve to get better, he didn't deserve to be concerned for. Everyone should just leave him to his own devices. "You almost f*cking died because I was so focused on winning some stupid race. You should leave me in the past already."
"All you have to do is apologize! All I need is for you to be sorry for what you did and how you treated me. What happened, happened, it doesn't change the fact that we've been friends for years and I still care about you. So I'm gonna help you get out of this, again, because I don't want to watch you destroy yourself, again." Bradley pondered that for a second, trying to figure out what to say, how to get out of this situation, he didn't need help. He didn't want help.
"Well," he settled, "I'm not sorry. So you can leave me alone now." Bradley couldn't tell if there was more frustration or hurt on Tank's face, but he loosened his grip, dropping Bradley's hand and leaving the apartment in silence.
It was a bad idea to come here, one of the worst Bradley's had in a while probably, but he'd spent the rest of the day drinking and his brain wouldn't stop thinking back to Max and the way they danced, and the way his body felt when touching the other's, and the way he wanted to kiss him.
So he was now standing outside of Max's dorm, drunk, raising a hand to knock to alert its occupant to his presence.
"What are you doing here?" Max said as soon as he opened the door and saw who was standing on the other side.
"Hi. I was- I wanted to-" Bradley stumbled across his words, eyes dropping to the floor.
"Spit it out or leave." Max commanded, voice level and uninterested.
Bradley looked back up and spoke to Max's eyes, "I like you."
"You seemed to be feeling the exact opposite just yesterday." Max pointed out, crossing arms on his chest.
"I didn't mean to reject you. I'm sorry." Bradley said, slurring the last words together and leaning against the door frame, slightly losing balance.
Max narrowed his eyes and leaned into Bradley's space, inhaling the air around him. "Wait, are you drunk?" He said, straightening back up. Bradley didn't know how to respond, saying yes outright seemed embarrassing to him, but lying wasn't an option when it was clearly obvious, so he just looked away from Max in shame. "Oh, so is that it? You only like me when you're drunk?"
"No, that's not-" Bradley started, defensively raising his hands, eyes shooting back up to hold eye contact.
"Then what?" Max spoke before Bradley could continue, "'Cause you keep switching up on me and I don't wanna deal with that. I'm not gonna be your little experiment if you're trynna figure out your sexuality or something."
"I'm not. I like you. Shamelessly."
"Then explain to me why you seem to be changing your mind about that every time we talk." Max dropped his hands to hang loosely next to his body and Bradley thought he could hear a tint of pleading in his voice.
"...I don't know. I can't explain it, I'm sorry." Bradley said quietly, eyes trained on the floor again. There was a beat of silence, Bradley awaiting what Max had to say next.
"Goodbye, Bradley." Was what came from the boy and before Bradley could look back up to see Max's face a door was in his. Well that was that, he supposed. He had nothing left except a month until finals, and his brain was scrambled to dust.
———
Bradley didn't know what day it was. He was in a daze, spending his time sprawled on the couch watching TV, or in bed just staring at a spinning ceiling.
He felt like sh*t. Staring into the empty fridge, cool air on his face, he felt like sh*t. His body was weak, his brain barely functioning, stomach screaming in pain and hunger, the sounds of the street below way too loud even through the closed windows. He thought back to how he treated Tank, to how he treated Max, to how he truly had no-one left anymore, and he felt like throwing up. He could feel bile traveling up his throat and he chocked, bending over the kitchen sink. Another wave of nausea hit him and liquid shot out of his throat, most likely the remaining alcohol from last night mixed with stomach acid, considering he didn't remember the last time he ate.
He started to feel lightheaded and his vision blacked out. When he came to, he was lying on his kitchen floor, pain shooting from his left wrist twisted under his body. "f*ck."
The rest of his morning was slow, wrapping up his hand in an old bandage he found and realizing he drank through all of the liquor in his possession. He didn't want to go anywhere, he just wanted to lay in bed and not do anything.
You should get help, this isn't healthy, Tank's words from last year rang through his ears, I found a place where they can help you. Bradley hadn't wanted help then just like he didn't want it a week or so ago. Last year he ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and Tank involuntarily admitted him to the programme he had found. In the end Bradley was grateful to his friend, despite throwing many mean remarks his way in the beginning. All you have to do is apologize! All I need is for you to be sorry for what you did and how you treated me. Bradley was an asshole. He didn't deserve help. So I'm gonna help you get out of this, again, because I don't want to watch you destroy yourself, again. He was a lost cause.
I still care about you. I still care about you. I still care about you. Looped endlessly in his brain, not leaving him alone no matter how much he tried to think about something else. In the end he gave in, stumbling weakly through the streets with the sun setting, making his way to the Gamma Mu Mu house. He stood at the door for a minute, unsure if he really had the guts to do this.
He knocked.
"Is Tank here?" He asked immediately when one of the younger Gammas opened the door, which got subsequently closed on him upon the student hearing his request. He stood there in confusion, before turning to walk away, clearly being not welcomed.
"Bradley?" The door opened back up behind him and a familiar voice chimed through the air. The boy turned around, facing the taller one.
"I'm sorry. About what I did and how I treated you. And for saying I wasn't sorry and saying I didn't want your help. I am and I do. If you're still offering, that is." Bradley said, trying for his voice to not quiver too much, but he was slightly shaking and didn't exactly have his body completely under control. He was waiting for a response, the silence slowly killing his hope of the other's agreement, before Tank's expression relaxed at last and stretched into a soft smile.
"I'm happy to hear that, baby. You hungry? I was just about to make myself some tacos. We'll talk over dinner, what do you say?" Tank shifted, opening the door further and creating a clear way for Bradley to enter the house. Slowly, he did so, shooting Tank a tired smile back.
———
Bradley was 59 days sober when he rolled up to campus for his senior year. He spent a big chunk of summer with Tank who helped him through the hardest patches and was there for him through the good days, that they laughed away, and the bad days, that Bradley spent curled up in his room.
In the last few days of junior year, leading up the finals week, Bradley even managed to make up with the rest of the Gammas, much to Tank's suggestion and cooing him into it. He wasn't allowed to join back due to the obvious breaking of rules in the past, but he had people back in his life that didn't hate him to the bone, which sounded like a win.
It was hard, regaining his balance, getting used to the world and his body without the almost constant presence of a foreign substance. He had a few slip ups, but now he felt ready to take on senior year in stride and enjoy it as he wanted to enjoy his junior year, sober.
The first time Bradley saw Max again was when he strolled by the skatepark and glanced at the ramps. Max was showing off his skills on a halfpipe and Bradley couldn't tear his eyes away, just watching the boy flourish in his element. Bradley thought he somehow got even prettier but couldn't make out a particular reason why or how that was even possible. He settled on the fact that he hadn't actually seen the now sophom*ore in three months.
The second time, Bradley was walking across campus the week that classes started, and walking on the same path in the opposite direction was the black haired boy, laughing with Bobby and P.J.. Bradley was fine, it was nothing, he just had to walk past the group without embarrassing himself, it's not like Max would actually pay him any attention anyway. Except then their eyes locked and Bradley could see Max's smile drop a little and he was getting closer and anxiety started to surge through his body and before he could control his legs he did a sharp 90° turn and walked across a patch of grass to another walkway. That was definitely embarrassing, Tank even laughed at him loudly when Bradley complained to him about the incident.
The third time, Bradley was entering the classroom for an American prose and poetry course he decided to take this semester, and there he was, sitting idly in one of the top rows of the auditorium, Max. He didn't seem to notice Bradley, who's eyes were trained on the other as he walked toward the seats, casting his gaze away at last as he sat down in the second row. He considered running away as fast as possible when the lecture was over, but didn't want to come off as too squeamish and avoidant. He didn't think Max would want to come up to him anyway. And he didn't.
It was Tank, sick of listening to Bradley pine over Max, that ended up convincing Bradley to go and talk to him. He didn't think it was a good idea but then again, he didn't have anything to lose with Max, it was worth a shot.
Bradley was standing in front of Max's dorm for this year, unable to follow through with his plan. He could feel his palms sweating, heart getting squeezed by anxiety and stomach twisting like someone was trying to wring it. Suddenly the door opened and Max filed out almost knocking into Bradley.
"Brad?" He raised a confused brow, closing the door behind himself, staring at his senior.
"Hi. Um- Looks like you've got somewhere to go." Bradley said, taking a step back and getting ready to turn on his heels and run away. "Never mind. I can come back later. Or not at all. Up to you if you'd be willing to hear me out." Max seemed to ponder that, deciding what he should do.
"Are you sober?" He asked at last, catching Bradley a bit off guard, but it was a fair enough question.
"Yes." Bradley nodded, hands now fidgeting by his sides, awaiting Max's decree.
"In that case," Max said, opening the door to his dorm again, "I have time now, I was just gonna get something from the vending machine." He entered the room, gesturing for Bradley to join him inside. "You can sit wherever."
"I, uh- I think I'd rather stand for this." Bradley said, looking over every part of the room, surveying and cataloging everything, though he had no idea how many, nor which, of the things were actually Max's and not of the others.
"Okay." Max acknowledged, sitting at his desk chair himself. "Whenever you're ready." Bradley nodded, more to himself than to Max's words, steadying himself and arranging his thoughts and what he wanted to say one last time.
"First of all," he took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, for how I treated you last year. It wasn't fair to you and I'm sorry. As for why- Two years ago I started drinking a lot. Too much, really. I ended up getting sober but that sort of fell apart when I lost the X-Games and I just let myself wallow in self-pity. And then you were nice to me, and I liked you, so I thought that maybe we could be something, but a part of me was dead set on me not being deserving of any happiness so I pushed you away when I wasn't smashed out of my mind. Tank helped me get sober again, and I know this isn't an excuse, I just wanted you to know. I'm really sorry for being an ass to you and treating you so sh*tty." Bradley exhaled, the important stuff finally being off his chest he felt like he could breath again. Through the whole thing Max was just looking at him, as if listening to and concentrating on every word that came out of Bradley's mouth. "And um," Bradley started up again, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck in nervousness, "If this isn't too soon to suggest... I still very much like you and would love to go out sometime."
"I'm gonna need some time to think about that." Max stood up after taking a few seconds to search around Bradley's face with his eyes, taking a short step forward. Eyes level, looking into Bradley's, "Thank you for telling me and apology accepted, but- You were really hurtful and confusing last year. I liked you too but I'm not really sure how I feel now. Could we be friends in the meantime? Before I give you an answer?"
"I'd like that." Bradley nodded and smiled at the boy in front of him, taking in the beauty he missed seeing all summer. Max gave him a soft smile back, and Bradley thought that maybe, he did deserve some happiness.
