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Chapter Text

The Uppercrust and Goof families are two different households that represent high society.

The Uppercrusts are one of the most revered and traditional families, often dubbed the epitome of aristocratic dignity and decorum. The family has a long history of producing children, especially men, who grow to be powerful leaders. They are a strong and influential family, even without the title of Marquis. The Uppercrusts have deeply rooted themselves in society through their dominance in the textile industry, supplying every modiste and boutique in the city. With immense success, they are frequently subjected to the prying eyes of other aristocratic families, who want a piece of what they have. As a result, the Uppercrusts have grown increasingly standoffish, often distancing themselves from the rest of high society and viewing themselves as superior. This behavior reflects on their heir, Bradley Uppercrust III, who carries an air of superiority wherever he goes. 

In contrast, the Goofs are known to be a joyous family, one that enjoys socializing and holds extravagant balls every season. The head of the household, Baron Goof, is particularly notorious as an oddball—a figure of eccentricity whose unique charisma endears him to high society. The heir to the household, Maximilian “Max” Goof, has inherited his father's likeness in more ways than one. The balls hosted by the Goof family stand as the highlight of the social calendar per season, eagerly anticipated by the ton. Despite holding only the title of Baron, they are well connected with various influential families, making their balls a bustling hub for bachelors and bachelorettes looking for a suitable partner.

Tonight, the Goof family hosts one of their renowned balls in celebration of their heirs—Max and Bradley—whose betrothal is the talk of the town.

The engagement was proposed by the matriarchs of the households. Sylvia Goof and Priscilla Uppercrust, once close friends in their youth, seized the opportunity to strengthen their families' powers when they noticed the bond between their children. However, the former closeness between Max and Bradley has since dissolved, and instead was replaced with a sense of rivalry between the two.

The grand ballroom of the Goof mansion buzzed with excitement as guests interacted with one another. The crystal chandeliers cast a shimmering glow on the esteemed guests waltzing across the polished dance floor. Max forces a smile on his face as he navigates the hall filled with well-wishers. His eyes scanned the room, looking for no one in particular, but had locked eyes with the person he was betrothed to, Bradley. 

Across the hall, Bradley had found himself swarmed with both lords and ladies, asking him what it felt like to be engaged and how he would plan their wedding. Bradley entertains the question, appearing to be enthusiastic to his audience while hiding the disdain in his voice. Despite the practiced ease of his posture, a glint of boredom flickered in his eyes, betraying the eagerness he was presenting. He met eyes with Max, “I hope I had answered all your lovely questions though it seems like I must excuse myself and be with my husband-to-be. Do feel free to enjoy the ball.” The brunette's smooth voice oozed like butter as he made his way to where Max was.

An electric tension, that had little to do with the lively orchestra, can be felt between the two heirs as Bradley approached the shorter man. “Why the grim look on your face Lord Goof? Your face looks like you’ve heard some terrible news” Bradley jests as he takes a glass of champagne from a server passing by.

“If said news was our arranged union, then yes, I have heard terrible, terrible news,” Max retorts. “Why does it appear like you’re barely affected by this? You know, I was damn sure that you would’ve done something deranged to stop our parents” Max adds, lightly glancing at Bradley to see his reaction.

For  a moment, Max swore he saw Bradley’s piercing blue eyes falter a bit, but it could’ve easily been his mind playing tricks on him as the arrogant heir showed off his infamous grin.

“Once the adults have made their mind on something it’s difficult, no, almost impossible to change their plans.” Bradley doesn’t say anything more and takes a sip of his champagne. Max just eyes him suspiciously. He knows both their parents can be stubborn, the Uppercrust especially, but it seems like Bradley isn’t telling him the full truth.

Before Max could prod Bradley any further, his father appears in front of them, surprising the two men. “What’s with the awful atmosphere between you two? Today’s ball is in celebration for you both, go dance and enjoy the night!”

Baron Goofy takes the champagne from Bradley’s hand and hurriedly pushes two men into the dancefloor. Startled by the random appearance of his soon-to-be father-in-law, Bradley stumbles and loses his balance. Max immediately catches him by the waist before he could embarrass himself. The taller man felt his cheeks flush, he wasn’t sure if it was because of his slip up or if it was the way the shorter man held him. Max quickly takes a hold of Bradley’s free hand and prepares for the song to begin.

“I’m leading the waltz Uppercrust.”

The orchestra begins to play an upbeat tune, giving Bradley no time to react and blindly follows Max’s lead.

“You're quite the dancer, Max. Perhaps you should consider a career change,” Bradley quips, regaining his composure.

“Better a dancer than an arrogant lord who thinks he’s better than everyone else,” Max shoots back, guiding Bradley through the intricate steps with surprising grace.

Bradley smirks, leaning in slightly. “Touché. But let's not forget, dear Max, that arrogance comes with a certain charm that some find irresistible.”

“Only those who are blind to the truth,” Max replies, his grip tightening on Bradley's hand as they twirl across the floor.

The taller man shuts himself up, not being able to think of a witty response. The music surges, and the crowd around them fades into a blur. For a moment, it is just the two of them, locked in a dance that speaks more than words ever could. Neither of them acknowledges the palpable tension between them.

As the first part of the song ends, Bradley decides the silence between them has lasted long enough and revisits their previous conversation. “Surely, a union with me isn't the worst thing that could happen to you. Think of the benefits—status, wealth, and the pleasure of my company.” Leaning in closer, he softly whispers the last line, his voice smooth and enticing.

Max rolls his eyes, slightly squeezing Bradley’s waist as if reprimanding him. “Benefits? More like the constant annoyance of your insufferable attitude. I'd rather spend my days with Bobby and PJ than endure your pompous airs.”

“Pompous airs?” Bradley feigns offense, eyes widening theatrically. “I assure you, Max, my 'airs' are nothing but genuine charm and grace. Perhaps if you spent more time among our peers and less with the stable boy and your fencing instructor’s son, you'd appreciate it. You should really cut contact with them; it’s not a good look.”

Max's eyes flash with irritation. “At least Bobby and PJ are honest and genuine. Unlike some people, they don't pretend to be something they're not.”

Bradley's smirk wavers, replaced by a flicker of something more serious. “Well, unlike some people, I am not granted the luxury of making autonomous choices,” he whispers under his breath. “It seems you still live in your own bubble, Max. Honesty and genuineness are mere fantasies in high society. You'd need immense luck to find a noble who possesses such qualities. The world we live in is driven by power, wealth, and fame. It demands alliances, power plays, and calculated partnerships.”

Bradley’s words hang in the air between them as they continue to dance, the tension palpable. Max narrows his eyes, not willing to back down. “I may live in a bubble, but at least I don’t hide behind a mask of false charm,” he retorts. “Maybe that’s why you’re so insufferable. You’re just a product of your environment.”

The brunette glares at Max. “You think you understand my life, Max? You don’t. You have no idea what it’s like to carry the weight of the Uppercrust name. Every move I make is scrutinized, every decision judged. You, with your carefree friends and simple pleasures, can’t possibly understand.”

“Simple pleasures?” Max scoffs. “At least I know who I am. I don’t have to put on a show for everyone around me. I can be myself, and that’s something you’ll never have.”

The air between them turns cold, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Bradley leaves the conversation at that and doesn’t speak on it any further, knowing deep down that Max is right. Unlike him, Max has the unwavering support of a loving family. While his mother occasionally offers solace, it’s often overshadowed by his father’s domineering presence. Even on this night, a ball hosted partly in Bradley’s honor, his father’s absence speaks volumes. 

The dance continued, their movements perfectly in sync despite the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath the surface. The orchestra’s lively tune contrasts sharply with the silent war waging between them. The guests around them are oblivious to the storm brewing within the pair, their polite smiles and laughter a stark contrast to the heated exchange.

As the waltz draws to an end, Bradley leans in once more, his voice a low murmur. “You may continue mingling with those low commoners and your simple pleasures, Max, but remember, this marriage is not just about us. It’s about our families, our legacies, and we have an image to uphold. Perhaps it’s time for you to act like a proper lord and wake up.”

Max’s eyes narrow, but he says nothing, the final notes of the waltz leaving a lingering echo of tension. They step apart, the crowd’s applause filling the space between them. For a moment, they stand there, breathing heavily from the dance and the unspoken words.

Lady Sylvia Goof approaches, her eyes twinkling with pride. “Wonderful, just wonderful! You two looked magnificent out there. You two truly make a lovely pair”

Bradley forces a smile, his mask of charm slipping back into place. “Thank you, Lady Sylvia. It was an honor to dance with your son.”

Max nods curtly, his mind still reeling from their exchange. “Yes, thank you, Mother.”

“You’re mother never mentioned you were this talented at dancing, Bradley. My, you looked absolutely elegant on the dance floor. You have such a lovely figure—a feast for the eyes, if you will.” Lady Sylvia takes Bradley’s hands, showering him with compliments.

The young lord chuckles awkwardly at the sudden praise. “I am unworthy of such high praise, Lady Goof, but thank you. Your son makes an excellent partner—I mean, dance partner.”

A hearty laugh erupts from Lady Sylvia’s mouth, “Well, I’ll leave you two boys alone now.” She gives them a knowing look before moving on to greet other guests.

As the matriarch of the Goof household leaves, the two young lords are once again locked in an icy air, neither of them willing to speak. Just as Max gathers the courage to speak, Bradley deliberately bumps into his shoulder as he turns to leave.

Max clenches his jaw, whispering to himself, “What an ass.” Needing a moment to cool down, he exits the manor to get some fresh air.

Unbeknownst to the two, someone has been looking at them with a keen eye. The mysterious observer keeps a low profile, moving in the shadows, as they follow Max out of the manor. 

Chapter Text

Max escapes from the lively manor and finds solace in the garden. The lush greens, softly illuminated by moonlight, offer a tranquil contrast to the noisy festivities inside. He admires the neatly trimmed rose bushes, the cool night air soothing his frayed nerves. As he breathes deeply, the scent of blooming roses fills his senses, helping to clear his mind.

He thinks back to his conversation with Bradley and wonders how on earth will their marriage work. He isn’t entirely opposed to the union; he understands the benefits of marrying into Bradley’s family. But sometimes, he just wishes their relationship could be more civil. After all, he dreamed of a love-match like his parents had. If that’s not possible, he hopes for at least an amicable relationship, reminiscent of their childhood days.

Just then, he hears light footsteps behind him. Turning around, he sees Lady Vicki Moreau, a baron's daughter. He doesn't know much about her and her family, only that she is of French descent and comes from a lineage of poets. She is also PJ's secret lover.

“Fancy seeing you out here Lady Moreau.” Max says surprisingly, fully turning to look at her.

Vicki looks at Max through the visible eye not hidden by her hair and steps up to stand beside him. She retrieves a smoke pipe and a lighter from her sleeve, lighting the pipe with practiced ease. She offers it to Max, who politely declines.

“It wouldn’t be a good look for me if people saw me out here with you, uh, smoking.” He says nervously. Vicki looks at him with a blank expression and shrugs, “Suit yourself.” She takes a slow, deliberate draw, her lips wrapping around the mouthpiece. The ember glows brighter as she inhales, the smoke curling lazily from the bowl. She exhales a thin stream of smoke, the scent of tobacco drifting into the night air. 

They stand in comfortable silence for a while as Vicki smokes, listening to the occasionally bristling leaves and the gentle night breeze. 

“I’ve noticed your exchange with Lord Uppercrust on the dance floor earlier.” Vicki says quietly. 

Max stiffens, laughing nervously as he scratches the back of his nape, “What exchange? Lord Uppercrust and I were merely talking about our arrangements.” 

Lady Moreau hums at his lackluster response as she takes another hit from her pipe. “To the eyes of people whose gaze is filled with nothing but false admiration and greed, it would appear so, but I saw right past your facade.” She exhales a waft of smoke, her gaze steady on the young lord. 

"Must you continue to be a poet, even offstage?" Max sighs, rubbing his temples. First Bradley with his infuriating attitude, and now Vicki, making him anxious with the realization that she has seen through their mutual dislike.

Vicki’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “A poet’s mind never truly rests, Max. But let’s speak plainly, then. It’s clear to anyone with proper eyes that you and Bradley are far from thrilled about this engagement.” She tucks her pipe back in her sleeves.

A scoff left Max’s lips, “And what of it? It’s not like the feelings of discontentment are going to stop the wedding.” He thinks back to what Bradley said, and unfortunately agrees that there is nothing that they could do to change their parents’ decision. 

On second thought, Max considers trying to sway his parents. A few crocodile tears might do the trick, but he can't bring himself to deceive them. They've already done so much for him, and this marriage solidifies his father's position. Despite being a baron with commendable connections, including King Mickey himself, high society still doesn't treat his father with the respect he deserves due to his eccentric personality.

Vicki remains silent, simply nodding in acknowledgment. Her gaze drifts to the illuminated rose bushes that adorn the garden. "Bradley is rather like a rose, is he not?" she muses absentmindedly.

Max lets out a small chuckle at her remark, “If you mean that he is prickly and thorny, then I am inclined to agree, very much so.” 

She smiles faintly, shaking her head. “Roses have thorns to protect their beauty. Bradley, too, hides behind his sharp demeanor, but there is something more beneath the surface.” She turns to Max, her eyes softening. “Perhaps, like a rose, he needs someone to see beyond the thorns and appreciate the beauty within.”

The look on Max's face is unreadable as he listens to Vicki’s words. A thousand thoughts filled his head and a small thought that he chose to ignore rang loud and clear. Max sighs, his frustration momentarily giving way to contemplation. “I suppose. But it’s hard to see the beauty when all you encounter are the thorns.” 

Another beat of silence goes by. Max lets Vicki’s word replay over and over, letting the information marinate in his head. He supposes he can agree with Bradley being akin to a rose, if only he could shut that insufferable mouth of his. Everyone in high society would collectively agree that the Uppercrust heir is easy on the eyes. With his tall, lean build and semi-long chestnut hair that perfectly frames his face, not to mention his alluring blue eyes, clear as a summer lake. Max thinks back to when they were dancing, how he could see the crystal chandeliers reflected in his eyes everytime he looked up, and how pretty his lips- 

Face flushed, Max shakes his head, incredulous at where his thoughts are leading him. He doesn’t recall drinking earlier to warrant such inappropriate notions. He doesn’t like how Vicki’s words are affecting him this much.

“May I ask you something, Max?” Vicki breaks the silence. She hesitates for a moment, then continues, “How did your relationship with Bradley turn sour? I’ve heard from PJ himself that you were close when you were children, Bradley would even interact with PJ and Bobby whenever he visited your estate.”

‘When did his and Bradley’s relationship go bad?’ Max thought to himself. 

“Well, if I really think about it, I believe things started to go downhill when Bradley went to study in Europe. He didn’t want to go at first, but his father insisted, saying it was an Uppercrust tradition. His father said he did the same thing when he was younger; something along those lines.” Max reminisced about the time a fourteen-year-old Bradley broke the news to an eleven-year-old him.

“PJ mentioned that as well, about Bradley leaving. Didn’t the stern Marquis Uppercrust travel to Europe around that time too, to expand their business?” Vicki asked.

Max nodded. "They stayed in Europe together. My mother and I often visited the Uppercrust estate to keep Lady Priscilla company. Bradley and I exchanged letters constantly during his first year abroad, but then they suddenly stopped. He changed a lot during that time. When he returned four years later for his coming-of-age ceremony, he was... different. More distant, more focused on upholding their family’s image and reputation. That ceremony was the last time we had a friendly conversation." Max sighed, lost in the memories. "Did you know it was Bradley who got me into horse racing?" He glanced at Vicki with a faint smile.

"Really? I figured you two were close, but not that close. Who would've guessed your rival on the racetrack introduced you to the sport?" Vicki remarked.

Max laughed softly. "Yeah, I picked it up after he left. I thought I’d surprise him when he came back, maybe we’d race together. But things didn’t go as planned. Since we barely interacted anymore, I never got to tell Bradley about my new hobby. You should’ve seen his face when he saw me competing in the annual race the year he returned."

Max's laugh faded into a thoughtful silence as he recalled the day vividly. "It was a mix of shock and, I think, anger. Bradley had always been the best at horse racing, and there I was, suddenly a contender. It was almost like he felt I had intruded on his territory."

Vicki listened intently, her expression one of genuine curiosity. "Did you win that race?"

Max nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips. "I did. It was my first major victory. I thought it would impress him, maybe even rekindle our friendship. But instead, it just seemed to drive a bigger wedge between us. From that day on, his treatment towards me was different. We talked here and there but each conversation felt like he was trying to pick a fight with me. Soon after that reporters claimed the two of us to be rivals. I tried to get an explanation from him on the day of my coming-of-age ceremony but he refused to tell me. After that, I just stopped reaching out to him and accepted what has become of us."

Vicki sighs, taking in the complexities of their relationship and trying to piece things together. "I think the weight of Marquis Uppercrust’s expectations on Bradley got to him. The entire ton knows how cold and controlling the Marquis can be, even to his own family. It makes me wonder how he treated Bradley during the 4 years they were together in a foreign country.”

A dawning realization looms over Max as he carefully considers Vicki’s words. He understood at a surface level that Bradley was heavily influenced by his father but didn’t grasp just how badly it affected him. It doesn’t entirely negate all the bad things he’s done but it gives Max an explanation why he has been behaving the way that he has. 

Vicki gazes at him sympathetically and places a hand on his shoulder, “Just talk to him, Max. You understand him better now, I believe there’s a chance for you two to rebuild your relationship.” 

Max nods slowly, the faint hope rekindled in his heart. “Thank you, Vicki. I hope your relationship with PJ will continue to blossom.” He says sincerely as he goes back inside the manor.

Vicki smiles warmly, as she stands in the garden, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. She only hopes nothing for the best for the two young lords. 

Bradley watches Max disappear into the night, a part of him yearning to follow. But the sting of their argument holds him back. He finds his way outside to a secluded terrace bench, the cool night air brushing against his flushed cheeks. Leaning back, he closes his eyes, frustrated beyond words, and rubs his temple aggressively. Max's harsh words echo uncomfortably in his mind.

"What's got you in such a foul mood tonight, sweetheart?"

A low voice rumbles through the quiet, sending a jolt through Bradley. He whips his head around to see Tank, his closest confidant, emerge from the entrance of the terrace.

"Tank?" Relief and surprise war in Bradley's voice. "How did you find me here?"

An exhausted smile spreads across Tank's face as he plops down beside him. "I wasn’t looking for you; I found you by chance, sweetheart. I was just escaping the hungry eyes of mothers wanting to sell their daughters off to me."

“You are currently one of the most eligible bachelors in town. It’s no surprise you’re being flocked by desperate mothers like moths to a flame,” Bradley explains nonchalantly.

Tank hums in agreement. "Enough about me, though. What's got you so down, sweetheart?" he repeats, his concern evident.

Bradley sighs, a defeated sound. "Max... he can be so infuriating," he mutters, more to himself than to Tank.

Tank raises an eyebrow. "What's new about that, sweetheart? I’m guessing more so than usual tonight. That dance looked less than friendly from where I was standing."

Bradley scoffs and crosses his arms. "Don't even get me started! He said I'm arrogant, that I think I’m better than everyone else—well, that is true, I do think I’m better than everyone else—but still! That’s rich coming from someone who likes to rub it in my face how he’s permitted to be so carefree." His voice teeters toward a whiny tone.

“He even went on to say that he prefers the company of his lowly commoner ‘friends’! The absolute nerve of that guy! He’s about to be betrothed to ME, yet he prefers their company? What a joke!” Bradley scoffs as he continues on to yap about Max. 

Tank mentally sighs at the outbursts and chuckles, finding amusement in seeing the brunette act so childish. “Sweetheart, you haven’t really been nice to him either." 

Bradley looks at his friend incredulously, “What do you mean I haven’t been nice to him? I regularly teach him on how to be a proper lord, I do believe that it is quite nice of me to look out for him.”

The burly man shakes his head. "Sweetheart, condemning him for his life choices doesn’t qualify as teaching him. Admit it, you tend to be quite mean to him. Every time he beats you in a race, you get all prickly about it."

Bradley's mouth drops. "I do not get prickly whenever he wins!" He gives Tank a side-eye and crosses his arms. "He's a good rider. I can respect that," he whispers loud enough for both of them to hear.

"Then pray tell, why do you always look at him as if he murdered your horse whenever he receives his award?" Deep down, Tank already knew, but he wanted to hear it straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak.

Bradley takes a moment before loudly exclaiming, "Because I don’t understand why people feel the need to gawk at him! It’s absolutely maddening! The moment he's declared the winner, I'm pushed aside by ladies swarming him to sing their praises. Not to mention some of them feel the need to wipe his sweat off—his hands work perfectly fine; he can do it himself!" He thinks back to a previous match, feeling his blood boil.

"Oh my!" Tank places his hand in front of his mouth, feigning ignorance. "Now, which part is maddening, exactly? You receiving no attention from the ladies and them vying for his attention instead, or..." Tank draws out the word before continuing.

"Get on with it."

"Or is it that you find the ladies maddening for disrupting your moment together? Perhaps you were expecting a chance to talk to him about the race, maybe even a handshake, but you couldn’t say a word because of those women rushing towards him?"

The young heir ponders on it for a moment. He falters as he turns bright red at his friend's proposition, “That is-!” 

Tank’s loud laughter cuts him off, “You surprisingly wear your heart on your sleeve.” 

Face still flushed, Bradley glares at his friend, “What does that mean?” 

The larger man doesn’t answer this question and continues to laugh. Bradley doesn’t push either, leaving the question unanswered. 

The two friends bask in silence for a moment as Tank composed himself. 

“How does Max feel about your engagement?”

Bradley unfolds his arms. “To be honest, I’m not quite sure. Before today’s announcement, I heard no news of him wanting to back out, but I also know he isn’t thrilled about it either.”

Tank says nothing, listening attentively, Bradley takes this as a cue to continue talking. “He told me earlier that he expected me to make a fuss about the arrangement, but I’m more surprised he said nothing.” He gazes at the night sky as he explains, “His family loves him. If he had expressed that he didn’t want to be wed to me, they wouldn’t have gone through with it, even if it meant going against their original plans.”

The flushed look on Bradley’s face is now replaced with a somber expression. His usually confident and arrogant voice now sounds weak and defeated.

“Sweetheart, how do you feel about it?” Tank questions with unease, noticing the change in atmosphere.

Bradley slightly turns his head to look at Tank, showing him a sad smile. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. My father’s words are law, and as his son, it is my duty to abide by them.”

Tank puts his arm around Bradley’s shoulders and pulls him closer. “You don’t have to follow everything that old geezer says.” Bradley simply hums in response, accepting his friend's attempt to comfort him and leaning into his touch.

“I did try, you know.” Bradley mumbles, twiddling his thumbs. 

“Try what?”

“I tried to talk to them about canceling the engagement.” 

Tank looks down on Bradley. “And how did that go?”

A small, pitiful laugh left the brunette’s lips. “Not so well as you can see.” Gesturing to the ball in celebration of the engagement. 

Tank sighs, tightening his grip on Bradley’s shoulder. “I fucking hate your father. It’s not fair, you know. You deserve to be happy, too.”

Bradley closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I know. But sometimes, it feels like my happiness is unattainable. My father has always wanted to be close with the King, my marriage with Max grants that. Everyone knows how close the Goofs are with the imperial family. I am nothing but a pawn to him.” 

Tank can’t help but feel sympathetic towards his friend. He had no idea Bradley was enduring something so difficult; this is the first time Bradley has opened up to him about it.

The burly man releases his grip on Bradley’s shoulder, “I think, there is a way for you to be happy.”

Bradley looks at him quizzically as he moves away from his hold. “Unless my father catches the plague or something unfortunate happens to him, I don’t think so, Tank.”

Pleased to see Bradley’s spirit lifting a bit, Tank lets out a low chuckle. “Although that is ideal, I believe the key to your happiness is much simpler than that.”

The quizzical expression doesn’t leave Bradley’s face as he gestures for Tank to continue.

“You need to be more honest with yourself and your feelings,” Tank says.

“Surely you must jest? Did you not hear my woes just now—”

Tank raises his hand to stop Bradley from rambling. “I don’t mean that. I mean you need to be more honest with yourself about how you feel,” his face is serious as he makes eye contact with the smaller man, “towards Max.”

The two friends remain in silence as a gust of wind passes by them. Bradley's face morphs into a look of disbelief before he guffaws at Tank's suggestion. 

"If this is your way of getting me out of that depressive mood, then it’s working, I must say," Bradley laughs, clutching his stomach.

Tank clears his throat. “It wasn’t my intention, but I’m glad to see you in a better state now. What I said wasn’t a joke, and I am very serious about it.”

Bradley's laughter slowly fades as he realizes Tank meant what he said. “W-what?” he asks nervously.

“I am aware it’s improper to meddle in someone else’s relationship, but you are impossibly dense, oblivious, and in denial, Bradley.” Only then does it fully register in Bradley’s mind how serious his friend is when he drops the nickname.

"You care for Max a lot more than you should—dare I say, you have feelings for Max."

Bradley shoots Tank a sharp look, but the larger man holds his gaze nonchalantly. With that, Bradley’s attitude and mood do a complete 180.

“WHAT?!” 

A high-pitched shrill escapes Bradley. His eyes widen comically, nostrils flaring. “That is absolutely absurd! Why would I, Bradley Uppercrust III, have feelings for that good-for-nothing, undignified man!” he sputters, a flicker of apprehensiveness in his tone. “I mean, I know you aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but that is too low even for you!” The words escape him loudly, almost without thinking.

Tank raises an eyebrow at Bradley’s choice of words but stays silent.

Bradley quickly covers his mouth with his hand, realizing his mistake. “That wasn’t very nice of me. I apologize, Tank.”

Tank leans back, shrugging. “Why can’t you just be honest with yourself? Your answer earlier was all I needed to confirm that you really do have feelings for Max.”

Bradley quickly realizes what Tank meant when he said he wears his heart on his sleeve. “Just because I found the ladies irritable doesn’t mean I like Max, that’s a ridiculous claim!”

Tank remains calm, his eyes steady on Bradley, “And why did you feel that way?”

Unable to think of an answer, Bradley groans and stands up from the bench. 

“I was right wasn’t I? You found them annoying because they took Max’s attention away from you, disturbed a moment you could’ve had.” 

Bradley remains silent, finding it difficult to speak, the pounding of his heart got stronger with each word Tank was saying.  

Tank sighs looking at his friend’s back, “Even if you didn’t share that piece of information with me, I already had my own suspicions. You may not notice it, but there are little things you do that show signs.”

Irritated, Bradley cocks his head to the side, just enough to look at his friend who was still seated. “Like what?” 

“For starters, you talk about him a lot.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything! I talk a lot about different people.”

“A single mention of his name and you would endlessly yap about him for hours on end. At first you speak of how annoying he is but the more you talk it gets clearer that you speak of him with fondness. Sometimes you reminisce about your childhood together.” Tank explains clearly. 

Bradley’s posture stiffens, “But… that doesn’t mean I have feelings for him. We were friends, once. It’s natural to remember those times.”

“What’s Max’s favorite flower?”

“Sunflowers and Daisies.”

“His favorite color?”

“Red.”

“His favorite food?”

“The scones from the downtown bakery.”

“What tea does he like to drink?”

“That’s a trick question. He doesn’t like tea.”

“As his rival, you sure do know a lot about his preference.” 

Blood rushes to Bradley’s face as he snaps out of it. He turns to fully face Tank, “Why you!!”

Tank just raises his arms and shrugs at him, “Face it, sweetheart.” 

The brunette grits his teeth as he stares at the burly man, the weight of Tank’s words sinking in. Slowly, the tension in his face eases as he becomes aware of how childish he was behaving. He sighs heavily and sits back down on the bench, looking down at his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

Tank doesn’t say anything, allowing Bradley the space to process everything that has been said tonight. The silence between them stretches, filled only by the faint rustling of leaves and distant music from the ballroom. Bradley wrestles with his thoughts, replaying their conversation in his mind. He thinks back to his interaction with Max earlier.

Bradley's mind aimlessly drifted back to the memory of their dance together. He could still feel the roughness of Max's  calloused hand against his own. He recalls the possessiveness of Max's arm around his waist, a gesture sent a shiver down his spine. A warm feeling bloomed in his chest, spreading through him like wildfire. It wasn't the heat of anger, nor the dull ache of annoyance he was familiar with. It was something new, something terrifying, and something he was hesitant to accept.

Tank watches Bradley’s expression shift, his eyes softening as he thinks about Max. “See what I mean?” Tank said gently, breaking the silence.

Bradley looks up, meeting Tank’s gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and realization. “I… I think I do,” he admits quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

They sit in silence once again, the evening air cool against their skin. Bradley leans back and closes his eyes, organizing his thoughts with this newfound information. 

“Is this what you meant when you said I could be happy?” Bradley asks, eyes still closed.

“Yes,” Tank responds curtly.

“Then what about Max’s happiness?” Bradley’s voice is hesitant, his concern for Max evident.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Tank says softly, “Trust me, all you need to do is talk to him. Be truthful with him. I have no idea what happened between you two, but whenever I catch him looking at you, it’s filled with longing. I can tell he just wants his friend back.” 

Hearing this made Bradley emotional. He feels remorseful for his actions towards Max and realizes the hurt he has caused him. His eyes well up, and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I never wanted things to be this way,” he admits quietly. “Being away, under my father’s influence… It changed me. I didn’t realize how much until now.”

“It’s not too late to make amends with him. You’ve acknowledged your mistakes, and that’s a step in the right direction.” Tank says, wiping the brunette’s tears with his sleeves. 

Bradley sniffles, nodding. “I don’t even know where to start. I’ve been nothing but an arse to him. What if he doesn’t forgive me?” he wails.

Tank gives him a reassuring smile. “Just be sincere and apologize. He’ll listen to what you have to say. Max is a good person, and I believe he cares about you too.”

With newfound resolve, Bradley wipes away the remaining tears and fans his face. He still feels hesitant and scared of Max’s reaction, but his talk with Tank was an eye-opener. He needed to clear the air with Max for their marriage to have any chance of being pleasant.

He stands up from the bench, brushing off any dust from his trousers and straightening his coat, trying to make himself look presentable before heading back inside the crowded hall.

“Thank you, Tank. I needed that, really,” he says, offering a genuine smile.

Tank gives him a thumbs up and grins back. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. I’ll stay here for a while. Go on ahead and find Max.”

Bradley approaches the door to the terrace and looks back at Tank. “Perhaps it’s time for you to consider those marriage proposals. You’d be an excellent father, Tank.”

He sees his friend’s eyes widen in surprise before stepping back inside the banquet hall. The lively music and chatter of the guests immediately surround him, but he presses forward with determination to find his fiancé.