Bradley hated being pitied. Max clearly only invited him out of pity. God he probably looked pathetic chai dripping down his shirt, eye purple, yellow and green in various stages of healing. He didn't need anybody to feel sorry for him. He was an Uppercrust. Just imagining Max Goof's condescending inner dialogue really pissed him off. He just wouldn't go, and he'd leave Max on read out of spite. He wasn't going to get the satisfaction out of him.
Bradley grimaces at the phone laying out face up in front of him on his bed. He had been waiting for the messages to start rolling in. Surely Max would want answers. Suddenly his cellphone roared to life with a shrill high pitched annoying ringtone. It was Max of course. Bradley smirked Max caught him while he was down, but he'd be setting the record straight and things would go back to normal. No more awkward looks or pity invites. He grabs the small navy phone with long slender fingers before flipping it open and putting it to his ear.
A pause for effect, "Hello?" He started picking dirt from under his fingernails.
"Bradley? Are you okay? I thought we had plans?" Max sounded so sincere he'd almost believe it was genuine. "Oh, come on, Goof. You don't really want to see me... B-Besides I can't make it. I'm uh, …sick." Bradley gave a small sniffle to make it more convincing. "You're sick?" Max's friends could be heard laughing in the background. Of course, now it made sense. They were going to set him up. This was all a big joke to them, and Bradley was smart for canceling. Not that it was hard to outwit those three. He rolled his eyes. "I'm sick. I'm not going anywhere, and I really need to study. Goodbye." He ended the call abruptly leaving no chance for Max to get another word in. He quickly turned the device off. Tossing the phone back down on his bedding Bradley stood to open his window letting the cool late August evening air fill his room. It was time to focus. He pulls the drawer of his ebony wooden desk open, fishing out a pack of matches striking one to light his pumpkin spice scented candle. He sat back down on his bed pulling his latest literary endeavor 'poetry for dummies' into his lap. If he could make it through this then he'd start navigating the text book and maybe get through this stupid class and be done with it.
An hour later three gentle knocks pulled him from his reading material. Who would be knocking? None of the gammas had anything to say to him going on two months now. He stood getting to the door in one quick stride. He cracked it cautiously looking out into the hall...
"Oh Hey. Tank let me in I uh hope that's okay. I felt really bad you weren't feeling good and missed the hangout. So, I thought I'd um..." Max holds up two cups and a thermos and Bradley's eyes widen slightly with surprise. "Oh, uh Sure." Bradley widens the door inviting Max in.
"Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't expecting to entertain. I haven't had a chance to clean up." Bradley crossed his arms over his stomach anxious to have another individual in his space. Max walks deeper into the small room noting the warm spiced aroma and the workbook on Bradley's bed. "I think your phone must have died. I tried to call you back to ask if you needed anything. I guess showing up here probably was a bad call. I just thought soup always made me feel better when I wasn't feeling well." He approaches the desk, setting down the two mugs he brought from his dorm. One of which featured a small steamboat Willie graphic. The other just a purple mug with a broken handle. It made Bradley smile seeing objects with character. It made sense for Max to have kept these with him when he moved to campus.
Max then began unscrewing the lid to the thermos carefully filling each of the cups.
"No, I appreciate the thought. I can't say I've ever had a rival bring me soup before." Bradley was not ill in the slightest, but he was in too deep now. Max let out a small chuckle handing Bradley the yellow mouse mug claiming the broken one for himself. Bradley accepted it sitting on the bed. He looked down into his glass expecting to be greeted by chicken broth but was taken aback to see alphabet soup occupying the mug. He raises an eyebrow at Max. "Hi Dad soup." Max raises his to his lips starting to drink his down. "Hi Dad soup?" Bradley echos taking a small sip. "Yeah, my dad and I have an inside joke about alphabet soup. When I was a kid, I would leave him messages at the bottom of my bowls."
That explanation made Bradley's stomach twist. He and his father were barely acquaintances at best. And there was no hi dad soup in his childhood. He thought to the time Mr. Goof had told him he didn't understand the father son bond. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. In fact, a switch had just been flipped. He sat his mug down feeling it all bubbling to the surface again. His face felt hot, and he felt like he could scream at the top of his lungs and break everything around him. "What are you even doing, Max?" Hot tears of pure unsaturated anger welled in his eyes blurring his vision. "Bradley?" Max hesitantly set his glass down on the desk he currently sat next to. "Why are you even being nice to me? I'm a shitty person. What could you possibly have to gain? Or maybe this is about gloating? You wanted to see me crumpled up and ruined, didn't you? Oh, I bet you and your little pals get the biggest kick out of all of this huh? Sorry I had to pass up your pity invite." Bradley stood squeezing the sleeves of his burgundy sweater in his fists starting to tremble. Finally, the tears started to escape. "What the hell man?" Max begins his approach to meet Bradley in the center of the room. "Don't play games with me, Goof. I know you know what I'm talking about." The tremors of fight or flight are now very visible. Max reached out a hand to rest on Bradley's shoulder. "Brad, I don't think you're a shitty person and I promise you my intentions were good-" He gets cut off by a harsh push back into the wall by the door of the room. "Don't lie to me and don't call me fucking Brad!" Bradley yells eyes wide. Max stands up straight and takes Bradley by the collar of his shirt. If being mercilessly bullied in high school taught Max anything, it's confrontation and confidence. "I don't know what the hell your problem is, Uppercrust but I am going to end this here and now."
Bradley braced himself for impact. He never was much of a fighter but the fire and adrenaline coursing through his veins made him crave chaos. Suddenly he was jerked in harshly. Pierced lips crushing into his. What was happening? His arms and legs got tingly, and his head started to feel fuzzy. "I'm not using you. I don't think you're a joke. I don't think you're a shitty person. And I don't pity you." Max stood firmly planted still gripping the brunette's shirt speaking firmly. Bradleys eyes wide in shock. As Max released him he stumbled backwards. "I-I.. I think you should go." his eyes moving to look away from the taller boy. Max hesitated before grabbing the doorknob. "I'm sorry I… I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what got into me." He made a rushed exit closing the door behind himself leaving Bradley standing alone holding fingertips to his now puffy pink bottom lip.
Bradley stood a minute processing and suddenly felt like he had snapped back into reality. What did he do? He threw the door open to call Max back in but just as he poked his head into the hall, he heard the front door slam shut announcing Max's departure from the gamma house. Bradley sighed, returning to sink into his bed. Why did he have to be such a coward? Everything is so confusing now.
Why couldn't Max have just hit him? Boys can't kiss boys. But he did. Max kissed Bradley hard, and Bradley liked it. He can't like it. He won't like it. He would kill whatever inside of himself desired more than anything to go running after Max and demand it to happen again. Uppercrust men don't do that. He could only imagine the things his father would do to him. Perhaps cast him out indefinitely. He'd be cut off and ruined on the streets. And he couldn't imagine what world of trouble Max would have to endure.
This is the way things had to be. He wasn't just anybody. He was Bradley Uppercrust III, a politician's son. His life was always to be dictated and broadcasted. He'd simply end it before it could start. Chop off the infection. He'd no longer communicate or be in the same room as Max outside of mandatory mutual lectures. They'd go back to being strangers, it's that simple. Bradley blew out the candle and slammed his window shut.