Chapter Text
In a dimly lit hallway, Max stumbled while he felt for the wall, attempting to guide both himself and the girl who drunkenly latched onto him. She leaned on his side as her arms were loosely wrapped around his neck. With everything spinning, and the vibrations of the muffled music under his feet, he had no idea how he managed to get to an empty bedroom. Once he closed the door behind them, she pushed him onto the bed, wasting no time to ravage his lips.
f*ck, he let her, too. In that moment, he’d probably do whatever she said.
Between the soft warmth of her lips, and the wetness of their tongues exploring each other’s mouths, Max couldn’t help but melt into the contact. He let out a soft moan from the back of his throat, then curled his toes when she started sucking on his bottom lip, flicking her tongue against his sensitive snakebite piercings. His hands began to travel up her shirt, where his fingertips met with the hook of her bra. Naturally, Max began to undo it while he left gentle pecks on her cheek, which eventually traveled down to her neck. She bucked her hips against his crotch, letting out breathy moans of his name.
“Max~ Oh, Max~” she breathed out in his ear. This further encouraged him to start sucking and nibbling on her throat. As he was doing so, he couldn’t help but think about how ecstatic he was at that very moment. Due to last year’s sh*t show with his dad, and Bradley , he never was able to get the opportunity to go to any college parties, nor find hot chicks to hook up with. He was so touch deprived, the sound of her moaning out his name from what was barely foreplay could have made him finish in his pants right then and there.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Max thought to himself, “Meh, probably one of those drunk assholes trying to find some place to crash at. Whatever. They’ll leave in a minute.”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Continuing to ignore the obnoxious knocking outside the door, he smiled into the kiss as he finally undid her bra. Max moved his hands to her breasts, even though the straps of the bra still hung off her arms. He didn’t care though, he just needed to feel her bare skin. The more she moaned his name, the more her voice began to distort. It gradually turned into a deeper, masculine pitch with every syllable.
“Max~ Max, Max! MAX! MAX, OPEN THE DOOR NOW!”
Thrusted out of that sweet, sweet, reality, Max shot up from his bed, utterly startled from the sudden booming voice. He took a moment to scan his surroundings. Disappointment weighed down on him as he realized he wasn’t at a college party, hooking up with a girl, but instead in his bedroom. He glanced at the time, it was 12:45 PM. The realization of that hot, steamy scene of him with that bombshell was only a dream automatically put him in a nasty mood.
The muffled voice from the outside yelled, “Max, you better not be ignoring me! I know you’re in there!” Upon figuring out who interrupted his slumber, Max groaned as he rubbed his temples.
It was no other than Bradley. f*cking. Uppercrust.
Max snapped, “I’m coming! I’m coming! For f*ck’s sake…” He rolled out of bed, then lazily walked over to the door, sliding his socks on the hard ground. Max harshly swung the door open, not afraid to show Bradley his irritation.
“Jeez, what do you want?!”
Bradley stood before him with a hamper full of laundry, impatiently tapping his foot against the floor. He looked like he had already started his day, wearing a white button up, khakis and a pink sweater wrapped around his shoulders. Clean cut, and put together, he was, unlike Max, who had a rats nest for hair and was only wearing gray sweatpants. His face was greasy and he had crusty boogers in the corner of his puffy eyes, whereas Bradley was perfectly groomed, as per usual. Max imagined Bradley being the only person in the world to wake up every morning with no imperfections.
“Are you seriously just now waking up? It's almost 1!” He hissed while he shoved the hamper in Max’s arms, making him stumble back a bit due to the force.
Max shook his head, “Dude…it’s Saturday! Do you seriously have nothing else better to do?” Bradley raised an eyebrow, judgmentally looking Max up and down, lips parted as if he had a spiteful comment ready to go. When his blue eyes scanned below the hamper, they immediately shot back up to his chest as they went completely wide. His lips quickly pursed soon after. He then took a double take, followed by visibly cringing from disgust. A blush began to form on his cheeks.
“You uh… gonna do something about…that first?” Bradley said slowly, gesturing to the obvious tent in Max’s pants. Max looked down, and jumped at the sight. In a moment of panic, he immediately slammed the door, placing his back against it. Of all the years of having morning wood, and today was the day that he’d forget that it existed! That was just perfect!
“Aww, somebody’s happy to see me,” Bradley joked through the door with a smug laugh.
Max snorted, his voice cracking as he said, “I’m sorry, what?! I’m not the one checking out other dude’s boners!” He dropped the hamper to the side.
“Well, you- Uh, I-” A lump began to grow in Bradley’s throat. Max could hear the very moment that he realized his “joke” backfired terribly. Since he now had the upper hand, he decided to give another blow and say:
“Coming all this way over some laundry seems strange. You coulda called. I think you just wanted to see me, Bradster~” His words came out shaky, because it took everything in him not to roll over and laugh.
Bradley replied with a heated, “Shut up, freshman!” before he went on his way. Max heard his footsteps, and knowing he was leaving, he poked his head out and yelled:
“Not a freshman! I’m a sophom*ore, dumbass!”
Bradley yelled back, his voice echoing in the hall, “Once a freshman, always a freshman!”
Max covered his mouth and chuckled from Bradley’s ridiculous comment. Playing into the childish banter between them, he replied:
“You were a freshman once, too! So, I guess that makes us even! Freshman!” Max mockingly said ‘freshman’ in the best impression of Bradley he could muster. That’s when Bradley stopped in his tracks and turned around. Fire was ablaze in his eyes, so he knew he was in trouble. With clenched fists, he marched back to Max’s room with determination. Feeling a sense of playful fear, Max giggled as he started to emerge back into his room. With Bradley’s luck, though, he made it just in time to grab the half-closed door and swing it wide open. Max was met with the freckled, red face of Bradley. His thick, bushy eyebrows, along with the corners of his mouth, formed an expression of pure displeasure. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t throw profanities Max’s way. He just aggressively spat out:
“I need you to get my mail, as well! Before this evening comes, don't be late like you were with the laundry!” Max couldn't help but let out a laugh, due to the absurd juxtaposition of his harsh tone, but relatively casual request.
“Okay, okay, you psycho! I’ll get your stupid mail!” Max said as he tried to close the door, but Bradley put his foot in the way.
He said with a fierce look in his eyes, “I’m serious, Max! Give it to me by 5:30 sharp. No earlier, no later. I’ll be at the dining hall, so bring it to me there.” Max gave an exaggerated bow.
“Yes, my liege. 5:30. Dining hall. Anything else-” Bradley, always wanting to get the “last word,” interrupted Max by slamming the door in his face. After Bradley left the dormitory, everything fell completely silent. Max was now alone with his thoughts. With his back against the door again, he looked over at the basket of dirty laundry.
Those f*cking shorts were neatly laid on top of the pile. The same shorts Bradley wore at their race, and the cause of him losing in the first place. Max felt his stubborn boner twitch in his loose sweatpants. Being overcome with dirty thoughts, he slowly reached for them with his index and pointer fingers, then lifted them at level with his face. Wonders of where he had been in those shorts, and how many people checked him out clouded his mind. Something about having access to all those “lived in” articles of clothing was so intimate. Those feelings fueled by pure horniness came to a halt, because he realized how much of a creep he was acting, so he threw them back in the hamper in disgust. Mostly towards himself. Max could only imagine how Bradley would react if he found out all the things that went through his mind. He wiped his hands off on his pants, and decided to go take a shower to forget about Bradley, and his stupid sexy shorts.
~
5:00 PM seemed to creep up out of nowhere. To be fair, though, after Max showered and got dressed, he spent the rest of his day getting high and playing video games with Bobby and P.J. Time would fly by fast when you were being a couch potato. Max sighed as he walked out of the building to his dorm room. He plugged his earbuds in and began to skate to the campus mailboxes. The last thing he wanted to do on a Saturday evening was to get bossed around by the little priss himself, Bradley. But, a deal was a deal. He had the entire summer to debate on what to do, and he figured that simply manning up and taking the abuse was the most noble option.
It had been about two months into his sophom*ore year, and Bradley was still occupying the majority of the experience. A part of him hated him for it, and there was another part that didn’t quite mind it. After butting heads with somebody for so long, and having a routine bicker session with them, he started to sort of enjoy his company. Talking to Bradley was the only aspect that was remotely entertaining, ushering to fulfill his every little request was certainly not. Once he made it to the mailboxes, Max wasted no time searching for Bradley’s. They were all sorted in alphabetical order from last name. He looked over each individual locker starting with “U.”
“Uppercrust…Uppercrust…Uppercrust…annndd there!” With a copy of Bradley’s keycard that was given to him, he placed it against a small scanner on the door, which unlocked the mailbox. It instantly opened itself to reveal a package, and a few envelopes neatly stacked on top of it. Max proceeded to pull out the box, but being as clumsy and stoned as he was, he accidentally let a few of the envelopes slide out of his arms, gently landing on the concrete ground.
“Dammit…” he muttered as he positioned the package under one of his arms in order to bend down. He picked up the remaining pieces of mail with his free hand, until he got to the last one, which happened to be perfectly facing the front side up. Initially not thinking too much about it, Max picked it up with plans to hurry out of there, however, his eye couldn’t help to catch both an unexpected, and unfamiliar name on it:
Eloise Rose Uppercrust
At first, Max reasonably assumed it was a family member of Bradley’s that sent him a card, therefore his hand started to lower the envelope down with the rest of them. Upon further inspection, however, he stopped himself in the midst of realizing that the mysterious name was put as the recipient’s. Max raised an eyebrow as he flipped it over on the back. He wasn’t expecting further information on that side, it was more so a gesture done out of confusion. Or curiosity? Dread? His stomach began to churn as if he was nervous, yet he didn’t have any other symptoms, such as a flushed face, rapidly beating heart, racing thoughts. Max wasn’t sure how to describe the feeling other than that his gut was telling him something was off. He desperately tried to grasp at straws; maybe it was a simple writing mistake? No, there’s one thing to misspell a name, carelessly mix up a couple letters, but to put a completely different name down, let alone a female name, on accident, is not realistic whatsoever. Perhaps Bradley had a twin sister on campus that he’s miraculously never seen? Yeah, with how egotistical the guy was, there would be no way a female version of him would be some shy bookworm who blended in with the crowd! Curiosity got the best of Max. He closed up the locker, and placed all of Bradley’s belongings on a bench directly across from the mailboxes. In hopes of finding an answer that made sense to him, he leafed through the rest of the envelopes.
Bradley Uppercrust III
Bradley Uppercrust III
Bradley Uppercrust…
Bradley…
Max’s eyes desperately darted to each paper over, and over, and over again. The normalcy of everything but that one envelope further spiraled him into confusion. As the bizarreness of it all began to set in, the saliva in Max’s mouth dried up, the opening in his throat clenched down so tightly, he felt he needed to cough, or gasp for a breath of air, but he knew there would be no relief to gain from doing either. Although he had a vague idea of what was up, Max wasn’t going to get any relief in general unless he got a clear, sensible answer. Faint footsteps were suddenly echoing in the distance. Like a criminal being hounded down by the police, Max hurriedly gathered Bradley’s mail, and skated away from the premises as quickly as possible.
Amongst the moving, blurry blobs of colors that resembled other students, Bradley was the only one Max could see clearly in the cafeteria. He was sitting with another Gamma at a table, laughing and smiling, oblivious to the fact that Max knew something he shouldn’t have. Max felt that he was having an out of body experience, as he started to move one foot in front of the other, over to Bradley. It didn’t take long for Bradley to notice Max approaching their table. With a simple hand gesture, he dismissively shooed his minion away, to which he obeyed at the drop of a dime, then held Max’s gaze with that usual arrogant aura to him. Once Max got close enough to the table, right across from Bradley, he only stared at him with a blank, yet lost look in his eyes. Bradley tilted his head slightly, then one of his eyes twitched.
“Looks like you just saw a ghost. Was getting some mail really that hard for you?” he quipped.
Max couldn’t hold it back. It was as if the word clawed its way out of his throat, then bullied its way through his teeth and lips. Demanding attention. Demanding to be acknowledged.
He choked out, “E-Eloise—”
“Aww, you got a little crush, and you’re running to me for advice. That’s so pathetic, it’s almost cute–”
“ You’re Elosie, aren’t you?”
Bradley’s face twisted into a look as if he went through all seven stages of grief in the snap of a finger. He let out a nervous huff as he ran his fingers through his chestnut hair. Suddenly, it looked frazzled, rather than neatly combed down like it always was. Bradley’s face was pale, but despite that, he laughed again, except more confidently this time.
“Max, come on. What are you on? My name is Bradley. Bradley Uppercrust III.” Max dropped the mail on the table, leaned forward, and held up the envelope with the odd name on it.
“Why was this in your mailbox, then?” Bradley briefly looked over it before he snatched the envelope, looked to his left, then his right, and leaned in as well. The tips of their noses were an inch apart from touching. Between bared teeth, Bradley lowly growled:
“Why are you going through my sh*t, f*cker?!” Although he asked him an open-ended question, he quickly bolted away, not even bothering to grab the rest of his mail, or his backpack. Max was right behind him, though, leaving the things as well.
“Well, maybe don’t have other people go get your stuff if you got something to hide, Eloise Rose!” Max retorted. Bradley continued walking, not saying a word, which was quite out of character for him. That further confirmed Max’s suspicion. He, who was also not being his usual laid-back self, was determined to get a proper confrontation.
Max continued, “That’s why you’re never in the men’s locker room, isn’t it?! I’ve also never seen you go use the men’s bathroom before!” It was as if Max was speaking to a brick wall. Bradley didn’t budge to turn around, or give any other physical queue to indicate that what he was saying was registering in his brain. All he did was storm through the hallway, not having any particular destination. Just wanting a way out of the one-sided conversation. Max began to let the words spill out of his mouth, not considering any consequences.
“I can’t believe, you, of all the f*cking people in this world , are secretly a chick! With all the sh*t you say about “liberals,” and– and being the little poster boy for Lakewood, you’d think you would be just a normal dude. Hah! What? Were you an ugly girl, so you decided to switch teams, or something? Well, point is you’re a liar, and a phony! Too scared to be real—” The unexpected force of Bradley’s shove sent Max flying down to the ground. Due to the harsh impact, he could already feel the soreness of his hip bones for later. He looked up at Bradley. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and his lips were rolled up so tightly, there was only a slightly downturned line that represented his mouth.
In between sniffs, Bradley spat out, “You don’t know anything about me, you f*cking asshole! The deal is off! Don’t ever talk to me, or even look at me, again!” He then walked off, leaving Max on the floor, who was completely dumbfounded by the entire situation. A couple students were staring at him, already whispering in each other’s ears to gossip, speculating what happened. Max slowly got up, bringing the envelope along. He became insecure from all the eyes on him, so he slouched down and walked the other direction. Although Bradley had only been a pain in the ass for him, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. Maybe he took things too far.
~
On the way back to the Gamma house, Bradley had plenty of time to emotionally recover from the humiliating conversation with Max. Well, “recover” enough to show his face to his brothers and have them not suspect anything. As Bradley stood at the front door, he had his hand clutching the knob, but not turning it. A part of him was hesitant to walk inside, because he knew they all were going to be lounging on the couch. Right there for them to talk to Bradley as soon as he walked inside.
He had no other choice, though. If he didn’t show up, that would be even more suspicious. With a deep breath, Bradley walked inside to see all of their heads turning.
In a cheerful tone, he said, “Heyyy, Gammas! Watching the game?” He went over to sit on the couch, getting a better view of the football game on the TV. Slouch, who happened to be beside him, playfully punched him in the shoulder while he asked:
“Where you been, boss? You was ‘posed to be here when it started!” Bradley let out a dry chuckle, before replying:
“Well, if you all must know, Max is no longer my errand boy,” he said.
Slouch groaned, “Aww man! Dat means I’m the errand boy again, ain’t it?” Tank, who sat on a loveseat sofa to the right of the couch, looked at Bradley with furrowed brows before he asked:
“What happened, baby?” Bradley swallowed thickly, and strummed his fingers on his lap, both actions which he knew Tank observed. That made Bradley nervous, because, for the most part, he could see through him unlike anybody else was capable of.
Bradley laughed, “Oh, do I have a story for you, boys!” He strategically wrapped his arm around Slouch’s shoulders, in order to show the guys that he was “relaxed.”
“So, you all know that loser as Max, right? Well, get this: he—”
The words quickly died on his tongue. He what? Found out one of his deepest, darkest secrets from a stupid letter? No, there was absolutely no way he was going to out himself so blatantly.
His brothers watched him expectantly, which only added more pressure onto Bradley. Impetuously, he let the first thing that came to mind slip out:
“He tried to kiss me. ”
After a couple seconds of silence that felt painstakingly long, an explosion of laughter erupted from the Gammas, except Tank, who only had a skeptical look plastered on his meaty face. After giving them a minute, and giving himself time to fabricate his story, Bradley moved to the middle of the living room, treating the carpet placed at the center like a spotlight. He held his hand up, like a politician about to give a speech, in order to give them all a signal to continue paying attention to what he was saying. The laughter died down.
“Now, you may be wondering what led up to that, right? Well, heh…it was this morning, I was going to his dorm to drop some laundry off for him to do. I knock, he answers and– just from the sight of me alone, he gets a hard on! Since it was, er…right in my face, I looked down to call him out but…I guess he took that as a green light and…oh my god, it was hilarious, go in with a smooch! So, I pushed him away! Then! Then! Later, he came up to me, trying to profess his love. I told him no, obviously, called off the deal, and here’s the best part: I shoved him to the ground, so he really got the message! What a freak, am I right?!”
Similar to waves and ripples of an ocean on a windy day, the laughter came back ten-fold. Slouch rolled off the couch and onto the floor, holding his stomach in the fetal position as he wheezed. The others were in tears, completely forgetting about the fact their favorite football team just won. They added onto the bit, making hateful, yet corny jokes pertaining to Max and his sexual orientation. Bradley, doing what he did best, relished in all the attention. He was doing a mental headcount of who all he had fooled, until his eyes became fixated on Tank. He was looking right back at him with a straight face. Bradley’s “high” from external validation quickly burnt out when Tank shook his head in disappointment, stood up, then, without saying a word to the rest of the gang, went upstairs. Watching Tank, Bradley let out a nervous laugh, and despite the rest of the Gammas being in hysteria and paying no mind, he softly said:
“Be right back, guys.” He darted upstairs to luckily catch Tank. He was in the midst of closing his door until Bradley stood before him.
“So, you’re siding with Max once again ,” Bradley snarled, making Tank stop in his tracks. He didn’t say a word, only continued to look at him with that disappointed expression. It made Bradley rock his body side to side out of discomfort. An awkward silence developed between them, until Tank finally broke it.
“You ain’t Bradley no more.”
Bradley scoffed, “What?” Tank sighed, shaking his head as he leaned on the frame of his door.
“Face it, baby, none of this is you. I’ve known ya since the 8th grade, and I can tell ya right now, this prissy, mean boy act ya got goin’ on is fake. It’s been fake.”
“We were thirteen in 8th grade, Tank. People change. It’s not my fault you’re still stuck in the past.”
Tank shrugged, “Maybe ya right, sweetheart. Could be out growin’ each otha. One thing I do know, though, is that the old you woulda never gave a sh*t about the Gammas, or that Max kid ya talk about so much. Old Bradley didn’t give a damn about what other people thought. The only thing he woulda liked was the X-Games, but…come on, they ain’t gonna let us compete this year. Not afta the crap ya pulled last time.”
“ Crap I pulled?! You were a part of the cheating just as much as everybody else!”
“I ain’t talkin’ bout that, Bradley. You practically left Max n’ I to die in that fire so you could win. If you wasn’t so self absorbed, you’d know how much that tainted the Gamma reputation as a team . But nah, having ya ‘little fan girls’ and ya ‘little yes mans’ that only use you for parties, or cause they think you pretty, is more important to you, ain’t it sweetheart? Get ya head outcha ass and see that I’m the only one at this f*ckin’ school that actually liked you at one point! For who you actually are!”
Bradley coldly laughed, “Oh please! Do you know who I am? I’m the king. Everybody adores me! You’re just jealous because you’ve always been known as the fat loser that just hovers around me, living in my shadow! If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be where you are right now!” Bradley gradually raised his voice as he shoved Tank, who barely budged.
“Yeah? And I guess under all that hairspray n co*ckiness, ya just a sad lil’ child that can’t accept himself, makin’ up stories n’ talkin’ bad ‘bout your own people, like Max.” Red specs began to frame Bradley’s vision, as those words hit his ears, and his heart, like a sucker punch. From what happened with Max earlier, Bradley was already a kettle on the verge of boiling over, so that comment was the last thing that pushed him over the edge. Flipping like a switch, Bradley shoved Tank again, only this time he slightly stumbled back, and yelled at the top of his lungs:
“Like Max? Like MAX?! I’M NOT A fa*gGOT LIKE MAX!” In a fit of rage, he began to knock over Tank’s dresser, yank clothes out of the closet, and tear posters off the wall. Bradley was a tornado going through his room, not leaving a single thing untouched.
“Baby, hey—” The smaller man got into Tank's face, his eyes wide, pupils like dots, looking completely unhinged.
“AS FAR AS I’M CONCERNED, YOU’RE KICKED OUT OF THE GAMMAS! GET YOUR sh*t AND GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” He raised a clench fist to strike Tank, however, despite that one may believe otherwise, he had cat-like reflexes, so before he endured such an assault, he grabbed Bradley’s wrist and held it down. Bradley tried to wriggle out of his grip, but to no avail.
“LET GO OF ME, TANK! I’M NORMAL! I’M A NORMAL MAN WITH A NORMAL LIFE! I’M NOT ONE OF THEM! I’M NOT!” Bradley became hysterical. His face was beet red from his loud, shrill yells, causing the rest of the Gammas to check out what was happening at the end of the stairs. He tried using his other hand to hit him, yet he only got the same result as the first time. Tank forcefully contorted Bradley’s arms so he was turned around, and his arms were pinned against his back. At that point, any of Bradley’s dignity, or masculinity, went right out the window, because no matter how much strength he used to break free, it felt as if he was being held down with arms made of steel, rather than flesh. That didn’t stop him from thrashing and kicking in the midst of his tantrum, though.
“L-LET GO OF ME! YOU’RE HURTING ME! IT HURTS!” Tank, being calm and composed, collected all of Bradley and took him out of his room. Once he let go, Bradley tried to pounce, but he held his arm out to keep distance.
“I’ll pack my things tomorrow and go to the office to get ‘nother room. It was nice knowin’ ya, Bradley, really.” Tank closed his door and locked it. Bradley stiffly stood there, his eyes staring through the door with a thousand-yard stare, while he started to cool off. His chest was hollowing out due to the emotional numbness, and his temples were throbbing from screaming. He slowly turned around to see the others, still standing at the end of the stairs, staring at him in disbelief. With what was let of his now hoarse voice, Bradley yelled:
“Mind your own business and go to bed!” Bradley stomped into his room and made sure to slam the door with all of the remaining energy he had left, causing a booming sound to travel all throughout the house. When he was finally alone, the first place he went was his mini fridge, where there was a bottle of vodka sitting inside, patiently waiting to be cracked open. Bradley snatched the bottle, twisted the cap, and tipped it up with no consideration for having a chaser nearby. It took about four gulps until the harsh bitterness of the liquor assaulted his taste buds and throat. He coughed and gagged into his arm, nearly spilling some of the drink while he placed it on a nearby desk. Bradley internally thanked himself that it was cold, because the vodka was so thick, he could feel the moment it landed in his stomach. His body shuddered at the thought of it being hot, or even room temperature. In that case, he would’ve thrown it back up instantly. While his body was adjusting to the alcohol, he leaned against the same desk he placed the bottle on. A sheet of paper on the wooden surface captured his attention, so he gently slid it over to his line of sight. There was writing on it that said:
Thx for the whip BRAD!
It was the ticket Max left behind from when he served him and his friends that one time. A small smile pulled at the corner of Bradley’s lip, then it went away, as he bawled up the ticket and threw it in a nearby trash can. Although the incident where he spilled coffee on Max was about a year ago, it still puzzled him as to why he kept the note, and why he felt fuzzy inside whenever he saw it. That day was completely humiliating! Why would he want a reminder? However, depending on how one looked at it, he supposed that it was amusing, despite it being at his expense. Typically, he didn’t find situations that weren’t in his favor funny. Bradley always had to be the one punching down, never up. Perhaps he’d be happier if he stopped taking himself so seriously. Max and his friends never did, after all, and they seemed to always have a good day whenever they were together.
Dammit, Goof was finding his way into Bradley’s mind again.Since they first met, it became a daily occurrence that happened more than he’d like to admit. Not only that, but the rate at which Max crossed his mind only multiplied as time went on. Sometimes, it’d get to a point where it was all consuming, reaching every nook and cranny of his brain until it was practically morphed into being Max shaped.
To make his thoughts go quiet for once, he braced himself to take another swig of the vodka. And another. Another. Each time, it began to go down easier, and his head started to feel both light and heavy at the same time. His vision slightly blurred. With weaky, heavy eyelids, Bradley looked up at the mirror which came with the vanity set he had his body resting against. The person looking back was tired, worn, and infested with bitterness. He had eye bags that suited the hardened look in his blue eyes. Whether it was from the alcohol, or genetics, or a combination of both, Bradley noticed how much he started to resemble his father, and it sickened him to his core.
Growing up, Bradley Uppercrust II was always angry, whether he was sober or not, so, to him, there was nothing for him to get out of drinking. It never made a difference to his mood, anyways. Maybe, when he was sober, he was only slightly less loud. Slightly less violent. Or his father had always been drunk; there were just moments the mask slipped, and it became more difficult to conceal his lack of sobriety. Regardless, as an adolescent, he recalled too many instances where he made vows to himself to never become a loud, rageful drunk like him. Yet, there he was, drinking alone in his room after making an ass of himself toward those who cared for him, just like daddy dearest. Reflecting on all the times his dad ruined holidays, and relationships with family members, due to being in a drunken frenzy, Bradley’s vibrant passion to break the cycle gradually dimmed, as he poured another shot of vodka into his mouth. He wondered if his father had similar thoughts about his grandfather when he was his age. And if his grandfather felt the same about his great-grandfather. There were many things his family didn’t understand about Bradley, but he had a gleam of hope that the way he felt in that moment was one thing they could. Clutching the bottle in his hand, he slowly slid down to the ground, not bothering to lay in the bed right beside him. The hardness of the floor was oddly comforting.
Bradley sadly smiled to himself, randomly remembering when Max’s father went to Lakewood for a semester. The way that middle aged man swung the doors of the classroom room open and strutted down the aisle in confidence seeped into his memory forever. The afro and the corny 70’s disco outfit was the icing on the cake. The first thing he did was go over to Max, and proudly announced to the other students that he was his son. Jeez, it gave him second-hand cringe, yet it was also endearing in an odd way. Bradley snorted at how Max let out one of the most girlish screams he’d ever heard. That was most likely one of the most horrible moments of Max’s life. To have the worst thing your father had done was embarrassed you in public sounded like a blessing. Even though Bradley grew up with a life most people could only wish for, he couldn’t help but envy Max for how good of a bond he and his father had.
sh*t, there he went, once more, thinking about Max Goof. Bradley lazily shook his head, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.
