1990 Something
By Pseudonymous Entity
Summary: Lies don't end relationships - the truth does. Max, struggling under the weight of his father's overwhelming presence, anxiety and secrets, discovers Bradley has his fair share of experience in both and might be the only one who can help. But can Max handle it when Bradley's secrets are far more sinister? These two may have gotten off on the wrong foot but as they keep running into one another they make some alarming realizations, about themselves and the people in their lives.
AN: How is everyone? Enjoy your next chapter.
-Pseu
"Every little lie gives me butterflies
Something in the way you're looking through my eyes, dunno if I'm gonna make it out alive
Fight so dirty but you love so sweet, talk so pretty but your heart got teeth..."
-Teeth
It was a trainwreck.
One Max's father seemed delighted to partake in. Bradley couldn't claim to be any sort of expert in good parenting but he was certain Mr. Goof cared more for his son than his current behaviour suggested.
When the incident first began it was innocent enough. Amusing even, the way Max stared in horror at the awful shirt his father suggested he wear around campus. Perhaps Bradley's earlier remarks about fashion were closer to the mark than he intended. He could at least admit Max was not a lost cause. His father however left much to be desired.
Bradley lost his amusement quickly. He knew what enjoyment of cruelty looked like and that wasn't what was happening here, to his eyes. Cruelty yes, but intention to be cruel no. It was, in his opinion, just as harmful and hard to watch.
Max went from looking for an escape route to staring down at the floor whilst his father carried on the conversation without his participation, to looking like he very much wanted nothing more than to simply melt down into the floor and cease.
With the scene his father was causing Bradley couldn't not blame him.
A stirring of what might be sympathy skimmed along his skin. It was not the same situation. The relationship between Max and his father wasn't like the one between Bradley and his own. Bradley could see the differences and logically he knew it not to be the case. That didn't prevent his feet from starting forward without his permission.
"...on Fridays." Mr. Goof was saying. The man frowned at his son. "What's that on your lip Maxxie?"
Max, who had stopped speaking much earlier in the conversation, didn't respond.
His father didn't know about his piercings?
"Max you know I dont-"
Bradley draped an arm around Max's shoulders, pulling him close to his side. The freshman was stiff and tense. "Terribly sorry to interrupt this riveting heart-to-heart," said Bradley, "but I'm afraid I must whisk Max away." He levelled a sparkling smile at Mr. Goof.
Max's father furrowed his brows. "Oh, it's you again. Uh...?"
"Indeed!" Confirmed Bradley, not bothering to reintroduce himself. "Max and I have a study session to get to, and academia waits for no one—not even doting fathers."
Mr. Goof glanced between Bradley and Max. "Study session? Like a study group? Gosh, maybe I could join in. We could meet on—"
Bradley raised a finger, cutting off Max's father with a playful, almost sing-song tone. "Ah ah ah~ I'm afraid this is a private tutoring session. Only the students and tutors on the list for the reserved study room are granted access. It's a safety protocol, you understand."
Mr. Goof frowned again, clearly unsure how to react to Bradley. "Well, I suppose if it's a safety protocol...I wouldn't want to intrude."
"You couldn't!" Bradley corrected, cheerful. "I suppose you could try, but the library security guards might be inclined to put you in zip ties and remove you from the premises." He tapped his free hand against his chin thoughtfully. "That would be one heck of a story to tell though, sir, if you're interested in cosplaying a life of crime."
Bradley gestured toward the far wall and off to the right where the doors to the study rooms were located, his movement fluid and almost theatrical, as if inviting Max's father to give it a try.
Mr. Goof was visibly startled by the implication. "Oh my, I couldn't...I wouldn't..."
Bradley tilted his head, his smile all teeth. "I jest, Mr. Goof. Kidding! I know you're a stand-up guy, I bet you would never stand for such tomfoolery."
Mr. Goof puffed up a little at that, nodding along. "That's right."
Bradley hummed thoughtfully, removing Max's backpack from the freshman's stiff hands and sliding it over his own shoulder. "And I bet you're the kind of guy who has respect for the rules, especially in a place like this. A place of higher learning and education."
"I do!" said Mr. Goof, "that's true."
"And," continued Bradley, glancing around for anything of Max's that might be remaining. He didn't think there was anything he missed. "I believe you would never condone the flagrant disregard for the rules and regulations of such an esteemed institution."
"That's right."
Bradley's eyes went half-lidded and he dropped most of his facetious friendly demeanor. "So, since we know you respect the rules and we know you would never disregard them or abuse them, we know you'll understand when Max and I bid you farewell."
Max's dad stopped nodding along, brows coming together in confusion. "I uh...what?"
"Study rooms are reserved on a schedule, and you would, obviously, being the upstanding and rule-abiding and respectful man we know you to be, want us to hurry along and start our session on time," Bradley explained patiently, his voice smooth as velvet. "Otherwise, the poor students who have signed up for the times after us will have their time cut short. I don't think I could live with myself if I interfered with someone else's education so flippantly. Could you?"
Mr. Goof stuttered, eyes flickering around him, perhaps trying to figure out how he had walked into such an obvious trap.
Bradley gave Max a squeeze and angled the both of them away from Mr. Goof toward the long marble counter off to their right. He began walking in that direction, ushering Max along with him.
He gave a wave over his shoulder in Max's father's general direction and called out pleasantly, "It was lovely to meet you, Mr. Goof. Have a day just as wonderful as yourself, sir!" Bradley didn't look back to see the expression on Mr. Goof's face as he led Max over to the counter.
At his arrival Miriam dropped all pretense of not eavesdropping, leaning in and lowering her voice. "Everything alright?"
"It's being taken care of," said Bradley, lightly. "Could I possibly get access to my study room a little early?"
Miriam looked between Bradley and Max, then glanced over Bradley's shoulder. Bradley stayed still and waited. Miriam nodded decisively, stepping away from the counter. "Of course. Just follow me," she made a gesture and walked forward, her glasses swinging on the long golden chain as she moved.
Bradley led Max along after Miriam until they reached the first of a line of doors with large windows beside them. Miriam placed a card in a small grey box to the side, a little green light lit up, and the door unlocked. They were ushered into the room, immediately bathed in the soft yellow light of the lamps within, the door shutting behind them with a soft click.
Bradley released Max, pushing him gently further into the room, barely making a sound on the plush green carpet, then reached over and pulled down the large blind for the window. Normally Bradley didn't bother using it but he thought Max might appreciate the privacy.
He turned from placing both his and Max's backpacks onto the singular long wooden table in the room to see Max standing with his arms curled around his stomach, hunched over and small. The air was rushing in and out of the teen at an alarming rate.
"Goof?"
No response; just those wide eyes that seemed to ricochet off the walls, looking everywhere but at Bradley. The teen was clearly having a crisis—a development alarming to Bradley, who preferred his problems in the form of equations. He wasn't well practiced with tending to other people's emotions.
So Bradley Uppercrust the Third, who was decidedly not a therapist, went about fixing this problem by doing something he was quite good at. Making other people mad.
"All this over a bit of parental overreach?" Bradley tisked. He walked around the table separating them and leaned against the other side. Bradley snapped fingers a few times. "Earth to Goof. Anyone in there?"
Max's gaze flickered to him, a flash of irritation breaking through the glassy panic.
"You do know most of us outgrow the desperate need for approval from our guardians far earlier than this and by now are quite used to disappointing them on occasion," he continued. "I wonder how on earth you got away with those clothes. Surely you didn't have a similar meltdown when your father undoubtedly disapproved of them?"
Max grunted, holding himself up just a bit straighter to throw a harsh glare in Bradley's direction.
"Then again he seemed caught by surprise when he noticed your new lip accessories earlier. What else have you been hiding from him?" Bradley shook his head as if in disappointment. "Max, Max, Max. Lying to your father? Scandalous."
It was working—Bradley could almost see the gears shifting in Max's head, his focus narrowing down from the panicked chaos to the singular annoyance that was Bradley Uppercrust.
After that things went almost according to plan.
Bradley dragged Max out of his panic by force, pushing and prodding with his words until they ended with Max in Bradley's face, glaring up at him, breath hot against Bradley's neck and cheeks, his arms rigid at his sides and his gloved hands -why did he always wear gloves?- curled into fists.
It gave Bradley a strange dizzy feeling he didn't usually entertain when upsetting people. Maybe it was because his intentions were nobler than normal and that was why he was strangely pleased? As close to noble as Bradley was capable anyway. That must be it.
Then Max decided to disrupt the flow of Bradley's careful calculations.
Not by insulting him in return, Bradley had heard worse than the freshman was capable of from his own family. It was not Max ordering him to shut up. He would be neither the first nor the last to be disappointed at the results of such a request. It was when Max reached up and shoved Bradley, hard.
The unexpected action sent Bradley stumbling into the wall, his back and shoulders smacking into it and the breath leaving his lungs. His arms went out to the sides, gripping the wall to keep him upright while the impact rattled inside of him. And then, the oddest thing happened- his stomach did a sort of flip. Not from the pain or from shock, but something decidedly more...exhilarating.
"Rude," Bradley drawled.
"Stop. Talking." Max repeated, his voice strained.
Bradley pushed his hands against the wall behind him and leaned forward at an angle, maintaining eye contact with Max. "Make me." The lack of challenge and presence of clear invitation stopped Max in his tracks.
Bradley took advantage of the brief look of confusion that crossed Max's face at Bradley's words. He pushed himself off the wall and stepped forward, inches away from Max, reaching out with his hand. Max flinched and shut his eyes, bracing himself for a blow. Instead, Bradley's fingers found their way into Max's unruly hair, running through the strands.
He heard the breath in Max's throat catch though it was nearly drowned out by the rushing blood in Bradley's ears. When Max's eyes snapped open, they were wide and stunned.
"Didn't peg you as the flinching type," Bradley taunted.
The freshman stood rooted to the spot like his secondhand skate shoes were melted to the floor. "What are you doing?" His voice unsteady. Barely a whisper.
"Appraising a piece of art," said Bradley. His eyes roamed over the curves of Max's face, drinking in his exquisite patchwork skin, the glittering flecks of gold in his large brown eyes, his mouth...
Bradley's gaze lingered on the twin studs punctuating Max's bottom lip. Snake bites, he brain supplied. Did Max have other piercings? Would he let Bradley look? With some difficulty, he reigned in his thoughts long enough to make the deduction that his plan, though taking unexpected paths, was ultimately a success. Max was much recovered from his earlier crisis.
"There he is," Bradley said softly. Then he forced himself to take a step back and move around around a still-stunned Max.
He walked around the table, pulled out a chair and took a seat. Because Bradley was a responsible individual intending to use the study room for its intended purpose. Certainly not because the idea of pushing Max down on the same table, pulling up his awful oversized tee and searching the curves and edges of his body for other piercings was nearly consuming his mind. Definitely.
Max was still standing where Bradley left him. Perhaps he should say something.
"Feel better?" Bradley asked.
Max turned to look at Bradley, then looked at his gloved hands, which weren't shaking. He seemed to realize he wasn't panicking anymore. The realization brought a faint, relieved smile to his lips.
Bradley stretched one of his long legs out underneath the table and kicked out the chair opposite him in invitation. After a brief hesitation, Max sat in the chair, albeit warily. Bradley continued to organize his supplies, getting ready to study, and not because he wasn't sure what his hands would get up to if they weren't kept busy, feeling Max's eyes on him all the while.
"Y'know, Goof," Bradley drawled, not even bothering to glance up from his notes as he spoke. "I know I'm pretty, but it's still impolite to stare."
Max's face went an interesting shade of red, and he sputtered indignantly. "You're not... I mean, you are, but that's not... I wasn't trying to..."
"Relax, Goof. No need to melt any more neurons."
Max went silent. After what felt like an eternity —or half an hour, according to the wall clock— Max cleared his throat. "We could do this for real."
Bradley paused in his note-taking, determinedly ignoring the tremors in his fingers at the potential for scandal in those words. "Do what, exactly?"
"Have an arrangement," Max continued, gaining confidence, apparently unaware of the double implications of the conversation unfolding. "Where you, uh, 'tutor' me. It'll give me more excuses to dodge my dad."
"Oh? Am I a charity?" Bradley leaned back, amusement and something dizzy and pleasant fluttering around inside of him. "People usually pay for my services. Tutoring as well."
Max frowned. "Well, I can't exactly pay you, but I could do stuff for you. Wash your car? Chores at the Gamma house?"
"Pass." Bradley waved the suggestion away. Not that he wasn't amendable to the idea of a soaked Max Goof leaning against his car. Far from it.
Max, being an idiot, decided that meant Bradley wouldn't help him. He pushed his chair out and stood. "Whatever. I have to go anyway-"
Bradley flipped his book shut, plopped it on the table with a thud and rolled his eyes. "Sit down."
Max, startled, did exactly that. Bradley, being a gentleman, ignored the traitorous spin his stomach did in response. "We've got the room till noon, Goof. That should give us enough time to work out the logistics."
Max cocked his head, confusion creasing his brow. "I thought-"
"Honestly," Bradley sighed. He sat up straighter in his seat, reaching his arms over his head and gave a languid stretch. He did not miss how Max's eyes strayed to the brief glimpse of skin along Bradley's torso, nor how he apparently caught himself and snapped his eyes back to Bradley's face. "I'll agree to your little scheme, on one condition: you owe me a favour."
"A favour?" Max repeated. He looked skeptical. "What kind of favour? Just any?"
"Just any," Bradley confirmed. "Owe me one favour, which you can not decline, at some point in the future, and I shall be your on-call excuse for your father. I promise to be an unyielding soldier in the war dedicated to your education. Fighting off any and all devious adversaries seeking to turn your attention away from me, defending the fictional honour of your studious intent."
"That was so dramatic," complained Max, fighting a smile. "Fine. Deal."
Bradley reached across the table to shake Max's hand, holding on to it a moment longer than necessary.
"Excellent."
2024
AN: A friendly deal between two trustworthy chaps. What could go wrong?