Chapter Text
In all the time Max has known him, Bradley Uppercrust III has never been quiet. Or rather, he never knows when to shut his mouth. A sharp smile and a sarcastic quip. A curled lip with a condescending tone. Bradley always has something to say, which is why Max can't stand his silence.
It has been almost three months after the X-games and, as far as Max can tell, Bradley is playing the silent game. He went from seeing the man almost daily, to barely at all, save for their single class together.
Max sat looking between the door and the clock hanging just to the left of it. He wasn't paying attention to the teacher, but it was nearing the end of the year so what more was there to learn anyway? The sound of his professor's voice droned on as he watched the hands tick once more, marking five minutes after class had started. Like clockwork, the door opened and Bradley emerged from the doorway. The Uppercrust prided himself on punctuality, but he had come in exactly five minutes late, almost every day since the games.
His blue eyes meet Max's briefly, widening slightly before the Uppercrust lowers his gaze and slides into the seat closest to the exit. Refusing to lift his eyes from his papers, the older man immediately starts to unpack and focus on his writing, or drawing -or whatever he was doing on the deep Prussian blue paper- as long as he wasn't looking up at Max or their professor.
Max stares at the brunet a moment longer before he turns back towards the front of the classroom. With a huff, Max peels off his gloves and sets his head down heavily on top of his folded arms. Thin black sleeves caress his face and soon Max is lulled into a gentle sleep by the soft voices of his peers and the informational video playing on the projector.
Max wakes up to the tentative tap of the shy girl sitting next to him. Class is set to end in ten minutes and the blonde was courteous enough to wake him in time to pack. She's been nothing but nice to him throughout the year, so Max feels a bit guilty about not having learned her name yet.
The black-haired boy flashes a kind smile and holds out his hand, "Thanks for waking me up. I'm Max." The girl shakes it firmly and holds on even after the short greeting.
"Jennifer," she smiles back softly, tucking a strand of her light hair behind her ear.
Max can see her start to flush and he's about to invite the girl to the Bean Scene when he hears the rustling of papers and shuffling from the back of the room, and a soft click as the door shuts. He looks back towards the exit sharply, dropping Jennifer's hand in the process. A single seat sits empty where Bradley Uppercrust was just moments before.
----
"Dudeeee I don't understand why this bothers you so much. That wimpy douche is finally out of your hair- if anything you should thank his sorry ass." Bobby is hanging upside down on Max's bed, contorting the sheets as he squirts cheese whiz into his mouth.
Max cringes at the smacking noises Bobby makes while he eats, but he does have a point. He'd been so absorbed with the frat boy he forgot to invite Jennifer out and he ended up leaving class earlier than he planned.
The Goof picks at his shoelaces with a scoff, "I don't know. It's just Brad's been a thorn in everyone's side all year, and now that he's finally lost he's running away with his tail between his legs? God, he's such a coward!" Max leans his head back against P.J.'s bed with a thud and looks up at the discolored beige ceiling.
P.J. eyes him skeptically from behind his book with a hum.
"What was that, huh? 'Hmmmmm'?" Max exaggerates the noise and raises his eyebrow at his best friend.
"Nothing Maxxie, but I can't help but wonder if-" P.J. shuts his book and pauses to think for a moment, "-if in the maelstrom of your mind, doth this persisting echo ensnare more than thy thoughts."
There is a beat of silence as the two boys try to decode P.J.'s words, before Bobby lets out a laugh, "Pfft, you've been hanging out with Camille too much man."
"She's better company than your cheese whiz, baldie."
"Ooh, harsh words P.J. take that back!" Bobby bolts upright and places a hand dramatically over his heart.
Max is quiet for a long moment, fiddling with his snake bites, as his friends continue bickering about hair and poetry and whether or not a beret would be a good container for cheese whiz. Ensnare more than his thoughts, what the hell does that mean?
"I think I'm gonna turn in," Max interrupts the conversation which had taken a turn to hydrophobic cloth types and if that would make a difference in containing the chemical substance.
Bobby and P.J. stop their bantering long enough to give each other a concerned glance.
"Yeah... sleep tight, man."
"Goodnight, Maximilian."
----
Max couldn't sleep. He told P.J. and Bobby that he would but he just couldn't. He stared at the wall as his roommates snored, watching the shadows from the window play onto his poster of Powerline, almost making it seem like the pop star himself was moving. Max sighed. Things were so much simpler in high school.
Max turned away from the wall and toward his desk. His digital clock glows a deep angry red, lighting up his skin as he throws off his covers. It's 1 am. Max debates just counting sheep, but his body itches to move and he needs to clear his head. Max strips out of his pajamas and puts on his black sleeveless t-shirt and faded baggy jeans from earlier in the day. He's about to leave when he belatedly puts on a few stripes of deodorant for good measure. If he is going to put on old clothes and go out in the middle of the night, he's not going to smell bad doing it. Max shrugs on his bag, containing water and some other essentials before he walks to the door.
There is a quiet rustle from P.J.'s bed, but if the bigger boy is awake he makes no noise indicating so. Max is thankful that Bobby and P.J. are asleep, or are at least pretending to be, he needs some time to himself. Max sneaks out the door and shuts it as quietly as he can before he walks down the silent hallway to the stairwell leading outside.
There was one skate park near the school about half a mile from Max's dorm. It's not a long walk, maybe ten minutes, but Max enjoys the hum of the streetlights as he walks towards the park. The night air is cool against his skin and a light breeze drifts through his hair. The wood and scratchy top of the skateboard digs into his side where he's holding it against his ribs, but it's a welcome sensation, distracting him from P.J.'s words.
Max hears the skate park before he sees it. A loud rumble and whooshing sounds flow into the air, disrupting Max's peace. What was that? Maybe some kid had an electric bike or something. The black-haired boy frowns, he was excited to get a bit of alone time to practice his tricks. With a sigh Max continues towards the park, hopefully the kid would be down to race or something.
The noise gets louder as Max closes in on the park, and he can now see a stripe of glowing red in the otherwise dark rink. The red is fast and it emanates from what looks to Max like a rocket or engine on the back end of a skateboard. It moves with the board, sliding down ramps and boosting the rider into flips that would be unachievable otherwise. Max can't see the face of the man on the board, but he can't help but feel impressed. Max flushes and works himself up to introduce himself and ask about the board when a metal part of the machine falls off the board with a soft clatter.
The loud rumble decrescendos until it comes to a sputtering stop, launching the rider onto the hard concrete beneath them. The skateboard, and the machine attached to it, roll backward away from the fallen rider. The machine spouts a few half-hearted sparks before settling down into a low smolder.
"Shit. Shit Shit. Shit. Shit." The figure says quickly, pushing himself up and scrambling towards the board. Illuminated by the soft glow of the fire from the rocket, Max can finally see the face of the skateboarder. Bradley. Of course, it was him. In the maelstrom of your- god damn it. Max curses under his breath. Perfect timing he thinks dryly. The Goof goes to turn away, so much for a night off. He places his skateboard on the ground with a hard clack, ready to push off and skate back to his dorm, when he hears a fizzle and clatter from behind him.
"Oh fuck! Oh my god, oh shit." Max looks back towards the sound of expletives streaming from Bradley's mouth.
The board has been dropped, and Bradley is clutching his hand as he looks up at Max with a horrified expression. The older man sniffs and inhales before calling up to Max in an annoyed tone. "What do you want, Goof?"
Max gets off his board and walks over to the handrail, his eyes adjusted enough to the dark to make out Brad's face. It's pinched in a way that makes it look like the older man is about to cry.
"I just came to skate. Same as you, Brad."
"Whatever, do your thing Maxxie," Brad clears his throat before he scoffs. He averts his eyes from Max's as he picks up his board, carefully avoiding the machine and opting not to use the hand that he had previously been cradling. Max takes note of the awkward movement. The older man places the board on its top by his bag, so it doesn't roll away, as he begins to search for the fallen part of his engine.
Max can see it glinting in the pale moonlight exactly where he saw it drop earlier. The brunet has taken out his flashlight and is looking on the opposite side of the rink by his bag, so Max takes it into his own hands to skate down the ramp and grab the part for him.
Max rolls to a stop just in front of Bradley, who looks up at him with disdain, "Looking for something?" Max says, dangling the small metal rod in front of the Uppercrust, who just rolls his eyes.
"Give that to me." Bradley reaches out for the piece expectantly, but Max steps back. "Are you kidding me? I'm not playing keep away with you Goof. Give. It. Back." Bradley is practically growling at Max and his eyes flash with anger as he holds out his hand.
"Jeez, who pissed in your cereal?" Max moves to give Bradley the metal, but at the last moment, he flicks it at the older boy's head. Brad flinches back, catching the piece with his left hand before hissing and immediately dropping it.
Max narrows his eyes, "What happened to your hand?"
"It's nothing, my hand is fine." The man bends to pick up the rod. When he stands back up, Max jumps from his board and snatches his wrist to get a closer look. The bottom of Brad's hand looks raw and wet, and he can see blisters starting to form on the pads of his reddened fingers.
"What the hell?! Get off of-" Brad pulls back trying to release his hand from Max's grip.
"You've been burned," Max says softly, tracing his finger around the red skin. His eyes flick up to the older man, who turns away with red cheeks. Max can see a scratch where the sharp edge of the rod must have nicked the skin of his palm when he caught it, and the engine still glows with heat by Bradley's bag.
"It's fine Freshman, I was just leaving." Bradley's voice is thick and he moves to pull away again.
Guilt floods through Max in response to the accidental worsening of Brad's condition. "Bradley, stay. Please. I have a first aid kit in my bag. Just wait here will you."
Max walks quickly to his bag, grabbing his water and the first aid kit. When he returns Brad is standing exactly where Max has left him. Max fights the urge to smile at the man's compliance.
"Give me your hand." Max takes the man's hand gingerly and uncaps his water bottle. He takes a quick swig, checking the temperature of the water, before cupping his hand behind Bradley's and pouring a gentle stream of the cool water over the burn. Bradley inhales through his clenched teeth, his brow furrowing. Max finishes pouring the water to cool the burn.
"Now what?"
"It needs to dry now, but I'll wrap it after... You know you'll still need to go get this checked out, but this should protect it long enough until the hospital or the school doctor opens up."
Brad hums in response. Max purses his lips, blowing cool air on Bradley's wet skin. "What are you doing?!" Brad wrenches his hand away from the breath.
"Relax jumpy, I'm just helping it dry." Max grabs the man's wrist firmly and pulls his hand up to blow once again. Max looks up at Brad through his lashes and smiles, while Brad breaks eye contact and looks off into the sky. Brad gulps and Max watches the muscles contract as his swallow travels down the length of his neck.
It's quiet- a nice quiet. The song of crickets and the air coming from Max are the only things making any noise, and Max doesn't want to move for fear of breaking the silence when he notices that Bradley's hand is finally dry.
Max stills his breath and stands upright. He looks at Bradley briefly, then ducks back down to grab aloe vera gel and gauze from his bag. The aloe vera is green and slightly sticky, but Max does his best to gently coat Brad's palm with a thin layer of the gel, taking care not to press hard enough to cause pain or pop the blisters. Max goes for a second coat, this time focusing on his fingers as he gently massages the gel into the red skin.
"Hold this here," orders Max, pressing the end of the white bandage onto Brad's wrist right above his vein. Brad does so and Max gets to work wrapping the gauze around his hand. Brad flinches when Max pulls a little too tightly.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry." Max's brows furrow together remorsefully and he immediately loosens the bandage.
"It's alright just be softer, okay baby?" Brad hums out, his eyes closed. Max pauses at being called baby and stops wrapping completely, raising his head to stare owlishly at the older man who hasn't yet seemed to register what he just said.
Noticing Max's halt, Brad cracks open his one eye to peek down at the black-haired boy. Realization dawns on the man and he drags his free hand over his face. From this close Max can see how deep Bradley flushes, and he bites his lip in a smile as he begins to resume wrapping.
"Sorry, I've been spending all my free time with Tank," Bradley says, his eyes now covered by his palm.
Max can't help but laugh as he pulls out a rough imitation of Tank's voice, "Don't worry about it, baby. I'll take care of you, baby. Nobody puts baby in the corner, baby. A-hyuck!" Max slaps his knee as a few more chuckles spill out of him.
"Are you done yet?" Brad raises his eyebrows, only throwing Max into another fit of laughter. By the time he's finished laughing his stomach aches and tears prick at the corners of his eyes.
"Alright alright sorry, I'm done," Max grins, sobering up. Max grips the edge of the gauze and secures it on the back of his hand, patting it subconsciously before hunching over and inspecting his work. Eventually, he straightens up to look Bradley in the eyes, ready to say something cheeky about not being able to use his left hand anymore - but as he looks up Max realizes he is far too close to the upperclassman.
They are pressed together, Max's fingers have moved from the older man's wrist to a light touch on his forearm, and they are close enough that Max can smell the other boy. A mix of sweat and heat from his time skating and the woodsy undertones of his cologne waft between them. Max can see that Bradley's baby hairs are plastered to his forehead and his hair sticks up so haphazardly that Max wants to run his hands through it to return it back to its once-orderly state. In the dark of the night, Bradley's pupils are blown and his blue eyes appear to be almost black. His lashes flutter, but neither boy looks away. They're in a stalemate as they both wait with bated breath for the other to move.
Max moves first. His eyes flicker past Bradley's nose, and finally, they finish their descent, resting upon Brad's lips. They're peeling and slightly parted -Max's own lips have been in the same state many a time after a long practice- maybe he should have asked if Brad wanted a sip before using all the water. Chapped as they are, the sight of them makes Max's mouth go dry. His own tongue darts out to wet his lips, dragging gently over cool metal rings, and Bradley looks down at the movement.
"Max," Bradley breathes out thickly, his tone warning before finally looking into Max's eyes.
Max backs away with one jerky step, wrenching his eyes away from Brad. He fumbles for his bag on the ground and turns his back on the older man. He hears Bradley let out a pent-up breath, but the brunet says nothing.
Max clears his throat, but his voice still comes out rough, "I should go. I've got class in the morning, you know how it is."
The rumble of his skateboard drowns out any response or lack thereof, as he skates away.
Max doesn't go back to the skate park that night, he doesn't skate the streets or the oversized stairs of the college entrance, he goes straight back to the dorm and stares at the peeling stucco of the ceiling. He should have stuck to counting sheep, he thinks bitterly.