Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yes, it was true. Bradley Uppercrust III—who once reigned supreme on campus and whose name was synonymous with “success and popularity”—was no longer as relevant. It wasn’t a secret among the student body, nor was it one of those cases where someone gradually becomes irrelevant for reasons nobody can explain. Honestly, Bradley would have been delighted if that had been the case. Having it all one day only to fade from view over time, simply forgotten and left behind due to natural causes.

That would have been much better; he would have preferred that over having everyone’s admiration and love one day, only to immediately go down the drain live and direct after the latest extreme games.

Five months had passed, and the topic still wouldn’t die, nor did it seem like they were going to let it go so easily. How could they? It was the fall of the prince… no, rather, the fall of the king himself! Bradley Uppercrust, who once (five months ago) had the entire campus at his command, now lived a miserable life, not to mention that everything in his life had turned into an absolute mess and a sort of psychological horror film he was forced to replay day after day from the moment he opened his eyes to face his horrible reality.

Everything had gone downhill since he decided to leave Tank to his fate, nearly dying. He thought it would be okay once he won, that he would be forgiven, they would talk it out, and everything would be fine between them, but… it wasn’t. He believed Tank would understand that they always did whatever it took to win, even if that meant leaving the closest fraternity member to Bradley to die in the flames. In Bradley’s unstable mind, what he did was okay; after all, after a few days in the hospital for smoke inhalation, Tank was fine! At least physically, he didn’t suffer too much.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the close relationship they once had. Tank, with the last remnants of lucidity and strength he had, didn’t hesitate to give Bradley a good beating that later required some medical intervention.

Deep down, Bradley understood Tank’s rage. A black eye, a broken nose, and a loose tooth were nothing compared to what Tank had endured. So he decided to give it time, let things cool down. After all, didn’t they always reconcile after their arguments?

But this time it was different. No attempt to make amends worked. Bradley showed up at Tank’s room every day, trying to talk, looking for any sign of forgiveness. He brought poorly worded apologies, excuses, even shared memories that tried to appeal to the loyalty that once united them. But Tank wouldn’t relent, and every day that passed without a response, the resentment within Bradley grew, like poison slowly spreading through his being. Yes, he had messed up big time. But now he was apologizing—why was Tank acting like such a spoiled brat?

And despite all that, he still told himself that everything would be fine between them. He just needed to give it some space.

Oh, but when he recovered and they could see each other again, he knew he had really messed up. Tank didn’t accept any of Bradley’s visits, despite Bradley showing up every day to talk with him.

Nothing worked; there was no human power on earth that could make Tank speak to the gamma leader again. And although he tried to handle his friend’s rejection and distancing as gracefully as possible, the truth was that Tank’s constant rejection activated something within him that made him burn. But Tank didn’t give in to Bradley’s desperate attempts, and every day without a response made Bradley’s resentment grow, like poison spreading slowly through his being. He couldn’t keep playing the apologetic role, he couldn’t humiliate himself more, and yet there he was in front of Tank, almost begging.

Deep down, he couldn’t stand being despised by Tank. It really hurt; he had never been good at dealing with rejection.

And let’s not even mention the other gammas, who took a similar stance after the disastrous events, bursting into speculations with certain questions among the other members—if this happened to the right-hand man of their leader, what could the other mere mortals expect from him? Nothing good, that was clear. There was no doubt; half the fraternity saw the real Bradley, the sometimes deranged and selfish being he could be, and that was no longer something to be taken lightly. But they weren’t stupid either; by exposing the traps they had used throughout their participation in the games, they shifted all the responsibility onto Bradley, claiming he was the one who pushed them to act that way in the investigations that began to form around the discovered deceptions. Now they accused merely their leader of being the sole culprit of setting traps that ended with dirty play and, in the worst cases, athletes getting hurt due to Bradley’s obsession with always being number one.

Bradley couldn’t be more disgusted by those statements filled with false and cheap crap that everyone believed, as he vividly remembered that they enjoyed cheating just as much as he did. Still, it was a well-planned and Machiavellian move that he had to acknowledge. To get rid of the leader who bordered on psychopathy, strip him of power while placing all the blame on him for those questionable plays that were more than marked in his participation that year. It was killing two birds with one stone, and they weren’t going to miss the trend of hating Bradley.

Time passed, and although the resentment in the Gamma house was still as palpable as the day he decided to betray Tank, they still allowed him to remain in the same house. Of course, with one restriction or another. He no longer had a voice or a vote, lost all privileges he used to enjoy, and was treated as just another clown among the gammas, being a constant object of mockery due to his still proud attitude and clinging to maintaining a bit of dignity amid so many jokes and hatred.

At first, it was amusing that others tormented him in such provocative ways. Playing heavy pranks on him, making tasteless comments, and generally showing him no respect he once had. And it was funny because Bradley refused to play along, acting as if they still saw him as a leader.

“I’m still your fucking leader despite everything! And you’re a bunch of brainless bastards who should be following me! What the hell is wrong with you?! If I tell you to make me a fucking coffee, you’re going to make it for me!”

And more things like that came out of his enraged mouth. He would shout indignantly at the slightest thing, while everyone burst into laughter, not taking him seriously.

“Just look at him…” Slouch scoffed amid a burst of incredulous laughter, wiping away a tear that threatened to fall from the laughter caused by the new house clown. “…the guy thinks he still has rights!” And the laughter continued reverberating off the walls, with other members joining in the irritating sound that was barely bearable.

And that was entertaining for half the fraternity; it was hilarious… until they started getting tired of his whining and tantrums and it soon became extremely irritating, something they were no longer willing to tolerate.

One afternoon, Bradley arrived at the fraternity house after a couple of classes he had to take. “Big” was a word that fell short for the surprise he witnessed as he saw most if not all of his belongings scattered outside the house, poorly packed and strewn about as if they were getting rid of the material things that represented Bradley’s life within the fraternity. That was exactly what was happening, but getting rid of a leader who was no longer of any use to them.

Bradley stood in front of his things, breathing heavily from the sudden shock. He already felt like he was getting irritated with this “prank” they were playing on him, but he decided to stay calm and simply open the door, taking some of his things inside to put them back in his room.

“Now my belongings? Very funny, how creative you are, guys. Fucking idiots…” he muttered under his breath as he crouched to pick up as many personal items as he could.

It didn’t take him long to realize that this wasn’t just a simple prank, and that happened the moment he tried to turn the knob and it was as locked and firm as could be. It was almost as if he were a stranger trying to enter the house he belonged to more than anyone there.

One, two, three shakes of the handle and that was enough to succumb to frustration. He threw the things to the ground, focusing on opening that damn door. He was really getting tired of this and knew he would soon be even more frustrated seeing his fraternity watching him from the many windows of the house, others coming out of them to watch the scene more closely while mocking Bradley’s failed attempts to get in.

Bradley’s world had shrunk to that house, the same place where he once reigned with absolute power. With his possessions scattered across the yard like trash, and the door to his former kingdom slammed in his face, he struggled to maintain control. But every taunt and laugh resonating from the windows, every look of contempt and entertainment, slowly eroded his already shaky facade of confidence.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Let me in!” Bradley shouted as loud as he could, his voice cracking between fury and disbelief. His hand, white from the effort of trying to turn the door knob, trembled as he looked around, searching for someone who wasn’t enjoying the situation.

But there was no one, at least it seemed that way. The gammas were crowding the windows, laughing with their mouths wide open, as if they were watching the most hilarious comedy with Bradley as the main and most comedic actor. Every scream from Bradley, every desperate attempt to open the door, only fueled their amusement at his pleas for a decision that had already been made.

“This isn’t funny! I’m going to… I’m going to break all your faces! I can ruin your pathetic lives in a heartbeat! Stop being assholes and open the fucking door!” he threatened, but his voice sounded less threatening and more desperate, gripped by the fear of being permanently kicked out.

One of the fraternity members, a burly guy with a mocking smile, stepped out of the front door with his arms crossed. Bradley recognized him: he was one of the new recruits, someone Bradley barely paid attention to during his time as leader. He knew roughly what to expect from this guy, and his face showed clear surprise at seeing him standing there. Truth be told, the idea of that big, dumb guy knocking him out with one punch made him somewhat nervous.

“Why don’t you relax, Brad?” the guy said, imitating the authoritative yet charismatic tone Bradley used to have. “Listen… Have you heard that loving also means letting go? Well, Bradley… we hate you. So goodbye, we’re letting you go too!”

The guy seemed ready to slam the door in his face, but Bradley wasn’t going to allow another humiliation like that, especially after putting up with every bit of abuse from that house of testosterone-fueled idiots. Bradley’s blood boiled, his teeth clenched so tightly they hurt. The world seemed to spin around him, but in a twisted, chaotic way, no longer in the fabulous way it used to. This couldn’t be happening. Not to him, not to someone with the last name “Uppercrust.”

“I’m going to destroy you, you damn fucker!” he shouted, lunging at the guy. But before he could even reach him, two others came out, blocking his way. They shoved him back, and the violent struggle quickly began.

Bradley fought with the desperation of a cornered animal. His fists flew, trying to hit anyone close enough, but the others were stronger, more coordinated. They grabbed him by the arms, pinned him down, and with every failed effort, Bradley felt like something inside him broke a little more. Now he was a pathetic, weak idiot who couldn’t even win a fight. The bitter realization that his power had come from others and not from himself finally crushed any trace of confidence left in his shattered spirit.

The onlookers gathered in droves, students passing by who stopped to watch the spectacle. The murmurs grew louder, some pulling out their phones to text about the moment, others simply watching with a mix of horror and morbid curiosity.

“Let go of me! Get your filthy hands off me! You have no idea who you’re messing with!” he raged at the guy holding him by both arms, trying to kick, to break free, to do anything to escape this degrading spectacle in which he was the star. Would screaming desperately for help do anything? Well, maybe that wasn’t the right question. More like, was there anyone there willing to help him?

And then he saw him. Through the second-floor window, Tank was watching him silently alongside other Gammas who were bursting into laughter. His eyes were hard, but with a sadness that cut through Bradley like a dagger. Bradley froze for a moment, his breath quickening and his eyes filled with pleading as he stopped all attempts to break free from that grip.

“Tank! Baby, sweetheart… please, tell them to stop,” he said, his voice trembling as he clung to the hope that Tank, the only friend who had ever meant something to him, would intervene. “They… they can’t do this to me. You can fix it! You know this is nonsense, Tank, please! They can’t… they can’t kick me out like this.”

He tried to smile between gasps, but it was a desperate grimace, lacking the confidence that once defined him. His eyes shone with unshed tears, and his tone was soft, almost begging. “Help me, please… t-talk to them… talk to me…”

The others fell silent, with a murmur or two echoing in the air, waiting for a response from Tank. It wasn’t going to be easy to let him go, and they weren’t going to change their minds if Bradley’s burly and inseparable friend decided to intervene in the scene. They were just waiting for an answer before continuing to enjoy the blazing show right in front of them.

Tank looked at him for a moment longer, his eyes filled with disappointment and a sadness that seemed distant from Bradley’s pain. Then, slowly, as if making a final decision, he turned his back on Bradley and disappeared into the darkness of the room without saying a word.

was the moment when everything fell apart for Bradley. The last shred of dignity he had struggled so hard to maintain shattered as he watched Tank, the person he had trusted most, turn his back on him in his darkest moment. A fleeting thought crossed his battered mind, a whisper from his own conscience telling him, “You deserve this.”

Then the hellish sound of laughter returned; it was impossible for them to hold back their laughter after witnessing Bradley’s rejection.

“You’re unbelievable! You almost roasted him like a chicken, and now you’re begging him to help you. Did you hit your head or something?” laughed the tall, lanky guy with black hair from one of the windows, and everyone continued mocking him.

The other Gammas took advantage of his distraction, and with a roughness that reflected the contempt they felt for him, they pushed him towards the street, literally throwing him out of the house that was once his domain. Bradley fell to the ground as the crowd moved aside without any intention of helping him, his body hitting the pavement hard. He tried to get up with the little dignity he had left, but one of them pushed him down again, making sure he understood what was happening.

“Get lost, Bradley! And don’t ever come back!” one of them shouted, and the jeers towards him erupted again, resonating in his mind like an echo of his failure.

Bradley stayed there on the ground, with scraped knees and trembling hands, looking at the house that had once been his fortress. The physical pain didn’t compare to the emptiness he felt in his chest, an abyss that expanded with every passing second.

His eyes remained fixed on that window, the one that represented Tank’s betrayal. He still hoped Tank would turn around and look at him one last time. He wanted… some comfort. He even imagined the big guy had come out of the house to help and defend him.

But it was just a fantasy. He no longer deserved any of that, especially not after what he had done to his best friend.

The leader had fallen. And there was no one to pick up the pieces.

He soon snapped out of the dissociation he was suffering and the constant suffocation of his disastrous thoughts. He looked around, and the crowd that had been watching with morbid curiosity now seemed to do so differently. Pity? Sadness? Mockery? He didn’t even know anymore. All he had left was to keep his head held high. He wanted to cry, but he wasn’t going to let them see that VIP part of his show.

Bradley remained on the ground, his eyes burning with the rage and pain consuming him from within. The crowd had gathered around, watching with curiosity, some with contempt, others with an indifference that cut deeper than any insult. The murmurs and laughter pierced his ears, making him feel like a cornered and exposed animal.

He slowly got up with that mask of indifference, his hands trembling as he picked up his belongings scattered on the pavement. Each item he picked up seemed to weigh a ton, as if every fragment of his life in the Gamma house had become an unbearable burden.

“What the hell are you looking at?! Do you want some fucking popcorn and soda too to enjoy the show?!”

He shouted in fury, his voice cracking from the pent-up rage. His eyes scanned the faces that were watching him, looking for someone who didn’t look at him with contempt, but all he found were more faces that judged him, that reveled in his humiliation, and others that looked at him with pity. He remembered so vividly that many of those faces had not long ago been fawning over him with love and admiration. What a damn bunch of hypocrites…

“Go to hell, all of you! I don’t need your damn pity! You all look even more pathetic than I do with those retarded faces of yours!” he spat the words, clinging to the only defense he had left: his anger.

The crowd began to disperse slowly, startled by the ex-prince of the campus’s outburst, though some stayed a little longer, enjoying the sight of Bradley at his lowest point. He clenched his teeth, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape, as he continued to pick up his things, feeling more lost than ever.

But he didn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him any worse. So he left as if nothing had happened, with his disheveled bags in hand and other things of value to him. He didn’t look back and walked away with a seemingly confident direction, considering what had just happened. Although, to be honest, he didn’t really know where he was headed. He was officially homeless.

His disdain for the crowd of busybodies made him miss something different in the landscape; he had no idea that someone was watching him from a distance, away from the commotion but still aware of everything that was happening. Max was standing with his skateboard in hand, leaning sideways against a tree, his eyes fixed on Bradley’s broken figure as he slowly walked away from his former home. There was something different, something Bradley would have noticed immediately if he had paid enough attention—there was no trace of mockery in Max’s eyes, nor the contempt that seemed common among the others. On the contrary, Max looked at him with a mix of concern and sadness. Not pity or sorrow. With compassion and empathy that no one else seemed to show him.

Of course, the messy-haired boy had held controversial opinions about Bradley since their first interaction, which only intensified after their clashes during those games that led to Bradley's downfall. But even with all that, the image he had of the great Bradley Uppercrust had been shattered. Bradley was no longer the arrogant, selfish, and childish leader he had known but a broken man, crushed by his own weight and that of those around him. Max still had his issues with him, and he still thought poorly of the Gamma—that was clear. But part of what he saw helped him realize that this hysterical man was also just another human with his pros and cons (though Max was sure he found more negative traits than positive ones).

While Bradley tried to pick up the pieces of his life scattered on the ground, Max seemed to be the only one willing to extend a hand to help lift the fallen leader. At least, that’s what crossed his mind as he watched him walk away. He almost followed him to offer some kind of comfort, but he stopped the flow of fantasies and incoherent thoughts. Doing so made him realize that he was already preparing to follow him. He abruptly halted, somewhat disconcerted by such a natural reaction.

"Tch, yeah, right. As if I were the right person to help someone like Bradley," he scoffed and couldn't help but laugh as he rolled his eyes at the absurdity.

Finally, he pushed the thought aside and got on his skateboard, ready to head to Coffee Bean to meet up with PJ and Bobby.

Chapter Text

The first thing Max did upon entering that familiar coffee shop was look for his inseparable group. There they were, PJ and Bobby, sitting in a corner of the establishment, sipping their coffees and talking inaudibly to each other. Max walked over to them without a second thought, and both of them immediately cheered their friend's arrival while making some space in the booth for Max to sit down.

“Maxster! Dude, you took forever to get here,” Bobby said, not bothering to lower his voice in a public place, clearly happy to finally see him.

“We thought for a moment that you wouldn't come. We even ordered an espresso for you, but… never mind, you better not drink it,” PJ mentioned in an unsure tone, gesturing to the coffee that was now ruined from sitting out for too long. He made a point of moving it aside but not before noticing the odd vibe Max brought with him. PJ raised an eyebrow when he saw that Max hadn't said a single word since he arrived. Usually, he always had something to say, but now he seemed different, and PJ knew it had to do with his delay in getting there. “Is something wrong?”

But the dark-haired guy couldn't answer. His lost look and his furrowed brow were enough to give away that, yes, something had happened. The truth was that Max couldn’t shake the strange feeling in his chest after witnessing that startling scene involving the guy who tried to make his life a living hell. The image of Bradley kept replaying in his mind; the way he was being dragged out by his fraternity brothers, thrown out so harshly and indifferently, as if he were nobody. Incredible, for the guy who was once everything.

With no response from the very distracted Max, Bobby banged on the table in front of his absent-minded friend, which undoubtedly got his full attention as Max shook his head, his hair bouncing as he snapped out of those infinite, overwhelming thoughts. Why was he thinking about this so much?

“No, no… nothing happened. Everything's fine! Nothing special!” he tried to brush it off, now looking at both his friends. He wanted to smile nonchalantly, but that was foolish. PJ and Bobby had known him long enough that Max wouldn't dare lie to them.

They exchanged a quick, knowing look, both frowning at the obvious lack of truth in Max’s words.

“Is that your best lie?” the redhead asked with the most serious expression he could muster.

“Spit it out,” PJ commanded firmly. In no time, they had their friend squirming in his seat, letting out exaggerated, frustrated noises that clearly showed his frustration.

“Arrghhh… fine, fine! I’ll tell you. I… saw Bradley before I came here,” he said, running a hand over his face in embarrassment, unable to believe what he was about to say out loud. At the mention of the name, both guys looked more interested in what Max was about to confess. “But it wasn't the same unbearable Bradley. Guys, I saw him getting thrown out onto the street, by his own fraternity brothers! Can you believe it?”

“Yes, I definitely believe it,” PJ muttered, taking a sip of his coffee with no emotion.

“After what he did? I’m not surprised. They took long enough to kick him out,” Bobby chimed in, smiling as he imagined the satisfying scene.

Max shot them an offended look as the other two burst out laughing, prompting him to continue explaining what had left such a mark on him moments ago. They didn’t seem to understand what he saw.

“No! You don't get it. Yeah, maybe he deserved it. He's an asshole, arrogant, and what he did was borderline criminal, but… you should have seen him, it wasn’t funny at all. He looked so bad, he didn’t seem like himself. I think he even tried to reason with Tank, I saw something like that, and none of it worked. They threw him out of the Gamma house, tossing his stuff, it was too much! I never thought I’d see Bradley Uppercrust being dragged out by two of his… ex-buddies.” He corrected himself, recalling every push and move Bradley made to try to break free from that rough grip.

“No way…” Bobby’s face reflected surprise, his expression gradually changing as Max continued explaining.

“I know! Man, it was freaking disturbing. How can you be on top one day and then the next be rejected even by your friends? It must suck…” He couldn’t continue his narrative and reflections because once again, Bobby had spoken up, interrupting Max.

“No… way! Max, you feel bad for the jerk!” Bobby exclaimed, raising both hands to his head in total disbelief. Max found it strange that this was what bothered Bobby the most about the situation and couldn't help but give him a disdainful look.

“What?! What does that have to do with anything, Zimmeruski? Didn't you hear me right?”

“Oh, I heard you. Loud and clear. And you… Maximilian Goof, you’re empathizing with crazy Bradley! Damn, now I don’t know which one of you is crazier…” he didn’t realize that the tone he used was far from appropriate for a public conversation, inevitably drawing attention to their table with such a loud exclamation that broke the quiet atmosphere of the coffee shop.

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” Max shrank down at the table, trying to ignore all the eyes on him while he leaned closer to his two friends before saying something in a tone bordering on a whisper. “First of all: I’m not empathizing with the guy. Why would I feel bad for him? Remember everything he put us through and how he tried to ruin my life from the moment I turned him down? I’m just… just saying it was shocking, that's all. And second: PJ, you’re the voice of reason here, help me out!”

Both Bobby and Max gave a direct, accusing look at the bigger guy, who until now had limited himself to just watching and analyzing. Seeing how both put so much weight on him to give his opinion was something he hated (and something he couldn’t escape from; it wasn’t the first time this had happened). He responded with a nervous look, unsure of what to say. So he opted to mention out loud what he was thinking, not without first letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, well… Bobby's right. That Uppercrust is… something's not right with him. Did you know even the police got involved with what he did? Mocha told me. She thinks his parents bribed the cops, which is why he's still out like nothing happened. That's why he's not in jail… or in a mental institution, at least. But public scrutiny, he can’t escape from that. That said… Max, I’m sorry to tell you, but you did feel bad for him. I’d even go as far as to say you were worried about him.”

“Of course, I was worried!” he responded defensively. “I was worried about what I was seeing, not him!”

“You know what I mean. Don’t try to fool us; we noticed you were acting strange the moment you walked in that door,” PJ insisted.

“You believe this crap too? This can’t be…” 

“I told you! Oh my God, PJ, we're losing him.”

Max slumped back in his seat, utterly defeated by his two best friends’ observations. If he had gotten those statements from anyone else, he might not have given them much thought. Unfortunately, it was those lifelong friends who were making him realize that maybe, just maybe, Max did feel something more than resentment and dislike for that tragic and humiliated man.

“You two are impossible…” he let out a long, weary sigh, finally starting to lower his guard.

“You can’t fool us, Max,” Bobby teased, with that carefree and genuine smile of his as he scooted closer to Max. “You’ve got that look you get when you’re trying to deny something you feel. It’s the same look you had when you said you didn’t like Roxanne.”

Max clenched his fists tightly, trying to maintain his resolve. “I don’t know what you’re talking about… this is different. It’s not like I’m losing my mind over Bradley. I just… saw something crazy, that’s all. You two know I can’t stand him.”

“Whether you can stand him or not, you felt bad for him and stopped seeing him as the maniac he is. You saw him more like a human. A baby having his candy taken away. In this case, Bradley’s candy was his reign as Gamma,” PJ leaned back against the table, this time adopting a more serious tone. It was his typical way of giving his friends reflective lectures. Which, in reality, were quite effective. “Also, don’t ask me why. Don’t overthink it. It’s just how you are, Max. You’re a good person; he’s not. And the truth is, you couldn’t stand seeing something like that. Because… that’s just who you are.”

Max pondered for a moment on what he had just heard. He lowered his head, mentally taking notes on everything PJ told him with that keen intuition he had for such personal and complex matters that could give Max a headache. But in the end, PJ’s words made some sense. And Max recognized something else, thanks to this introspection: the fact that maybe he was so upset about the whole thing because he had allowed something like that to happen to Bradley. Or, well, not Bradley exactly, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that what he passively witnessed was actually something he could have intervened in, somehow…

“You’re not in a position to help him. You can’t help someone like Bradley,” he silently told himself. 

Bobby had simply watched the little debate calmly, too calmly for someone like him who always had to interrupt moments like this, as was his habit. Instead of making an out-of-place comment, he decided to contribute something truly meaningful, realizing that Max was starting to think so deeply that it looked like he'd get a brain cramp.

"That's how you are, Max. It's in your nature. I think that's exactly why you beat the real jerk Bradley in every possible way. Maybe you shouldn't feel so bad for someone who brought about their own destruction, but you do. And that's something extremely Goof. You guys have hearts of gold, even though you want to pretend otherwise." Bobby adjusted those glasses that seemed to be part of his anatomy, given how often he was always wearing them. "Just remember: there's a difference between being a good person and being an idiot. Bradley deserves what happened to him; you don't owe him anything just because he tried to act nice with you at first and because you beat him. The guy is the worst!"

Max wanted to completely agree, badmouthing Bradley in any way always brought laughs among the group. With PJ bringing anecdotes about the eccentricities of that Uppercrust along with Bobby's exquisite and too-accurate imitation done with an unsettling ease. He was a recurring inside joke among the group of friends, and while he would have loved to have a moment like that where they could mock Bradley, the truth was that Max felt it wasn't the time, and instead, he shrugged, nodding, wanting to change the subject once and for all.

"Yeah, sure... I think you're right. Bradley is anything but... innocent. Anyway, I think I'm still a little sensitive, about Rox—..."

Before he could continue talking, Max noticed a strange change in the atmosphere. He couldn't explain it, but he could see it as everyone around him suddenly fell silent. The place was plunged into a funereal silence so unexpected for a public place. All eyes were fixed on a single point, and Max's friends did the same without even trying to hide it. For a moment, he thought they were looking at him, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. They were looking past him, and Max had to turn around to see what was causing so many murmurs and morbid glances. 

As soon as he turned around, he could understand immediately. The fallen Bradley Uppercrust was right there, making an entrance into the café that drew all attention to him. More real than ever, the poor guy was just a few meters from Max, taking firm steps toward the café counter, holding two suitcases that contained the small and shattered pieces left of his previous life that had just been taken away from him. 

Everyone was watching him intently, but Bradley didn't seem to care; he was sure of what they were saying, of the pity that flooded some people's gazes, and the painful whispers exchanged from others' lips. Either way, he was used to it, and he had to be especially now that word was starting to spread about what had happened at the Gamma house just moments ago. 

And yes, surely everyone attacked him with morbid glances. Everyone, except Max. The person who had seen that event at the exact moment, something that for him felt like witnessing a public execution. He didn't know why or couldn't see it like everyone else did; he also didn't understand if he felt secondhand embarrassment, fear, or... something else he refused to admit yet, but he was the only one trying to focus on something else. Like the ruined coffee that PJ had specifically told him not to drink.

"...speaking of the devil. Look who just showed up," Bobby murmured for the first time, modulating his usually loud tone of voice; he had even taken off his glasses for a moment to see clearly the legend that was on everyone's lips. 

PJ wasn't far behind, soon joining the recent sensation of gossiping about the brunette in such an obvious way that it was ridiculous to hide. "Wow, you weren't lying when you said he really looked ruined. Have you seen him? Damn... It's like those pictures they put in gossip magazines about celebrities before and after drugs." He was going to keep blabbing about the obvious: Bradley's messy hair falling in unruly strands across his forehead, his perfectly ironed sweater now wrinkled, and those visible dirt stains clinging to his boring but impeccable khaki pants. Seeing Bradley felt like watching a fatal car accident. Something horrible, but impossible to look away from. 

That's exactly what caught PJ's attention, seeing Max shrink in his seat as if he didn't want to be there, looking anywhere but in the direction of the person he hadn't stopped talking about since he arrived. "Max?”

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Max cursed under his breath, placing a hand on his face to remain unnoticed, ignoring the fact that the mere company of Bobby and PJ gave him away completely.

Being so intent on hiding from Bradley (for some inexplicable reason that Max wasn't going to bother explaining), he missed the new spectacle about to unfold. So far, everything was going as usual. Both PJ and Bobby watched closely, ignoring for a moment the grumblings of the third member of their group. It was undeniable; Bradley was a master at being the center of attention, whether he wanted to be or not.

With a serious expression, Bradley approached the barista in charge of taking orders. He remained calm but had an irritated look on his face as he ordered an Americano coffee—nothing out of the ordinary. His attitude was still the same, his ego as normal and inflated as on any given Tuesday. But for everyone, seeing him there so composed seemed the most interesting thing. Half, if not all, of the people in the cafe held their breath or words, waiting for something to happen. Bradley's mere presence had turned into a kind of freak show, where he was the sole, unfortunate star. There was no doubt in Bradley's mind that many there already knew about the humiliation he had just endured. The only one affected by it was Max, who felt a pit in his stomach just being in the same place and space as Bradley.

Bradley took a seat on one of the high chairs at the counter after being served, maintaining a rigid posture with both arms crossed and his bags on the floor beside him. Minutes seemed to turn into hours, and although gradually everyone returned to their own business and conversations, Bradley remained the main topic of attention, even as he kept to himself, simply waiting for his coffee. Not even the artists who took to the stage to recite poems or perform seemed to be paying attention to their own performances, as they were also intrigued by what might happen next.

"Don’t you feel like this is going better than expected? I feel like it could have been worse," Bobby murmured, finally confessing that he honestly expected something more disastrous to happen. Because, well, that's what Bradley tends to provoke.

Max just bothered to look at him with narrowed eyes and a frown. He really hoped Bobby was right this time. He couldn't handle two similar scenes in the same day. He had more than enough with what he had seen on campus.

"Americano for Bradley," said a guy, another worker at the café, who had the controversial yet simple order ready.

Unconcerned, Bradley got up from his seat with his usual grace, took the freshly made coffee from the counter, thanking both employees for the service with a smile that by now seemed more like a mask than something real. He left a tip for both of them, finally preparing to leave the accusatory chamber that the Bean Scene had become.

He grabbed his bag with his free hand to put it on his shoulder, and just as he placed his hand on the handle of the suitcase, a mocking voice from a guy in the distance interrupted the relative calm of the place.

"Hey, Uppercrust! How’s life now that you’re a nobody?" That was what echoed through the four walls. Some laughter was heard, while others simply fell silent, gasping in surprise at such a bold comment. That’s what forced Max to finally look at the scene; he wanted to know who was foolish or brave enough to shout something like that. And he found them. It was a table just a few meters away from him, full of fraternity guys who were laughing. He had seen them around a few times, but they weren’t from his university. Max had a hunch that even they had heard about what had happened between Bradley and the Gammas just moments ago.

For a moment, the words hung in the air, with occasional laughter still lingering in the place. The guy celebrated his taunt with the three other fraternity brothers sharing his table. But soon, the fun was suddenly cut short by Bradley, who slowly made his way toward the guy. The atmosphere of mockery was gradually calming down with each step Bradley took towards that table, and the tension was dissipating through the place. His expression seemed somewhat serene, but there was something in his eyes that betrayed he was about to do something... something worthy of Bradley. "The psychopath who almost burned his best friend alive."

Max witnessed how Bradley stood in front of the fool who had spoken from the table. His smile became more subtle the moment Bradley decided to confront him, even showing some bewilderment at the proximity the other had taken. But before his smile disappeared, it only grew bigger, trusting in his cynical attitude.

"What did you just say?" His voice was low, yet it was loaded with a dangerous edge, ready to hurt. That made once again all the attention focus on him, and soon the laughter ceased completely. The fraternity guy, with little common sense but a lot of ego, looked up at him from his seat, his face twisted into a defiant grin.

"You heard me, Bradley. In fact, I think everyone did. You're nobody now, just another pathetic—"

He couldn't finish his insult when he saw Bradley take another step, getting even closer, almost cornering the guy like an animal stalking its prey. Bradley leaned on the fraternity’s table, showing he could also play that game. And oh, he could, much better than that insolent fool.

"Say it again."

It seems that the confrontation was enough for the guy’s bravery to waver, almost as if he were a leaf barely hanging by a miracle from a strong tree, with Bradley being the destructive tornado about to shatter the leaf effortlessly.

In response, the guy's eyes darted around the café, looking for some support, but he was met with looks of surprise and intimidation from the others, who were impatiently waiting to see what might happen. He was alone in this, even with his fraternity brothers, who kept any trace of mockery to themselves.

"I—..." The brunette didn’t even have to bother raising his voice or making a scene. The threatening tone of his voice, invading his space, his intense gaze, and his serious expression were enough to make the young man shrink in his seat. He wanted to escape, but he knew that wasn’t an option.  

There still wasn’t a coherent response, nor a repeat of the cruel words that had been heard. Bradley only intensified his approach and now had him right where he wanted.  

“I asked you to repeat it. Say it again. I dare you.” The young man was now sweating; Bradley could see it. He swallowed, clinging to the last bits of confidence that were quickly evaporating. Again, there was no one to help him, even though he heard most of them mocking him along with the fallen king.  

“L-look, man, I didn’t mean...”  

“No, no. Go on. Finish what you were going to say. I really want to hear it.”  

Max couldn’t understand how or when those blue eyes became so terrifying. They were supposed to be a beautiful color. Blue, a color as pretty as it is unique in a person's eyes, was now the scariest thing Max had ever witnessed. At least, that was the case with Bradley’s eyes. Filled with rage and a second feeling he couldn’t quite describe, but he knew it stemmed from the shattered ego of his unstable rival.  

And not to mention his voice—cold and piercing. There was a certain calmness in it that made everything a bit more disturbing, almost as if Bradley were holding back.  

Finally, the other fraternity member gave up. With nothing left to say, without any clever retort, he finally lowered his head, taking his coffee cup in his hands to avoid fiddling with his fingers and looking more nervous than he already was.  

“I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean anything by it. I-it was a stupid comment, that’s all. I’m sorry.” He muttered, his face red with embarrassment. The others at his table had the same expression, unable to make eye contact with Bradley, knowing they too had mocked him and didn’t want the same fate as their loudmouthed friend.  

Bradley, for his part, didn’t move an inch, his gaze fixed and tense on that guy while his body remained tense, continuing to demonstrate a crushing and destructive authority over him.  

Now he looked at him with indifference, even with boredom. It wasn’t fun for him when they backed down so quickly. He liked the thrill, the trouble, and this time it was too... empty due to the cowardly attitude the other maintained, but at least he had won this time. And in front of many people. A victory that meant a breath after what they did to him.  

“That’s what I thought. Next time you think of opening your mouth, remember this moment. Remember how you couldn’t stand up to someone you think is nobody.”  

The fraternity kid couldn’t articulate another word, he just nodded with his head down and palpable shame.  

Bradley had finished there, so he straightened up with a relaxed yet elegant and firm posture, looking at the people around him. Everyone was as bewildered and embarrassed as the table that had been the victim of his annoyance. It was true that Bradley was no longer a big deal among the students; he had been stripped of many privileges and power he once enjoyed. But he was still an Uppercrust. And no one wants to mess with an Uppercrust. Least of all one as deranged as he could be. That was why he had so much control over others.  

Bradley simply walked away, his steps echoing through the calm of the place now filled with the voices of spectators discussing what had happened. Bradley didn’t seem upset by the scene, but he was looking around attentively. And that’s when he made eye contact with Max, who had been watching him, following him with his gaze, lost in what Bradley would do next. What he had seen was different. He expected an outburst of anger, the typical Bradley. Even shouting, or maybe things getting physical. But this was different, and it scared him; it was a demonstration of the power that, against all odds, Bradley still held over others. He always knew how to be charismatic and terrifying at the same time, but he also knew when to be. It was like a reminder to everyone in the cafeteria that despite having fallen, he wasn’t broken. Not even close. And he wouldn’t allow himself to be broken by all those he considered far inferior.  

Max realized the mistake of following him so intently with his gaze; apparently, he was the only one with the audacity to do so, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Bradley, who soon held his gaze, and it wasn’t a kind one. Max wanted the earth to swallow him up in the face of Bradley’s hard, cold, and suffocating stare. His eyes no longer seemed blue like the sea or the most beautiful of clear skies; it was a melancholy and murky blue that, despite the distance, Max could notice.  

His breath caught in his throat. He wanted to look away, to see something else, close his eyes, or move away from there. But he couldn’t; he was too busy trying to decipher the look Bradley was giving him. A threat? A warning? He had no idea, but given their past clashes, he knew it was nothing good. The older one was the first to break the eye contact, now focusing on leaving the place and not looking back. He didn’t even take his coffee, and that was something Max couldn’t help but notice.  

With Bradley out of sight, the atmosphere lightened considerably. The muffled conversations among people and the soft jazz music returned to Max’s ears, subtle sounds but quite useful in trying to forget that incident where more than one felt uncomfortable.  

Bobby was the first to break the silence of the moment, sighing in relief now that the problem was gone.  

“Wow... that bastard is still terrifying. Did you see that? I got chills.”  

PJ soon joined in, exchanging looks with Bobby.  

“Yeah, I saw it. His eyes, God. I thought he was almost going to kill that poor guy. Max, are you sure you saw the same jerk being kicked out by the Gammas? He seems pretty fine to me.” PJ looked at his friend, quieter than usual. He knew that in other circumstances, he would be the first to make comments about it. After all, the one who seemed to have more personal issues with Bradley was none other than Max. But he hadn’t said anything. He just stood there, petrified, still staring at the door Bradley had walked out of a few moments ago. “Max?”  

Again, he didn’t respond, but he did act. A determined look, a furrowed brow, along with purposeful movements full of intent were all PJ and Bobby needed to start panicking. They had an idea of where Max was going, but they didn’t want to believe it. They couldn’t.  

“Max, wait! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” PJ shouted in a futile attempt to catch up to him due to his friend's determined stride.  

“Max, don’t go after him!” he insisted, but it was no use.  

Bobby, at this point, just remained worried, watching from his seat as Max deliberately did something he considered suicidal. He didn’t seem as worried as PJ because he knew there was no way to stop him, but he still made it clear how he felt about it.  

“Seriously, man! Baaaad idea!”  

The commotion the two were causing was left behind as Max had climbed the stairs to get out of there. A few steps, and he was on the street, looking around. The first thing he felt was the cold air on his face, with the night approaching. He squinted, trying to look for a sign of Bradley, and saw him walking with his things a few meters away. It wasn’t much, but Max quickened his pace, almost running to catch up with him before it was too late, or... before he came to his senses, realizing that this was, in fact, a bad idea.  

“Bradley, wait!” he called out loudly when he was close enough. His breathing was somewhat labored, and from there, he tried to think of what to say next.  

Maybe he should have planned this better.  

All the other did was turn on his heels. He immediately frowned slightly at hearing that irritating voice. He looked at him, up and down, and knew that every second he spent looking at him was a second he was judging Max's clothes and appearance.  

Bradley’s 

expression was a mix of indifference and disgust, he just stood there waiting for the other to continue, but seeing that he had the look of a lost puppy, he got impatient, waiting to hear something worth the interruption.  

“Well? What do you want, Goof?”  

Max felt a pang of discomfort; he knew more or less what to say. But he didn’t know how, nor did he know how it would make Bradley feel. He was well aware that their relationship had never been the best. But you have to start somewhere, and he was already there, so there was no turning back.  

Max sighed, trying to regulate his breathing, and he didn’t know if it was from running or pure anxiety. For some reason, deep down, Max still held the respect and fear he had for him when he was the Gamma leader and he was just a freshman.  

"Hey... look, I know I'm not the ideal person to say this... I just—wanted to ask if you were okay. Are you okay?"

For a brief moment, Bradley's face shifted from disgust and annoyance to one of disbelief. His eyebrows raised slightly; he couldn’t help but feel strange about Max’s behavior. But it also infuriated him to see him being so intrusive.  

"Why do you care about that? You should be happy; you won. Look at what you did to me. Stop your damn hypocrisy and stay away from me."  

Max knew it wouldn't be easy, but he tried. He felt a certain responsibility toward him, even though he knew the only one responsible for Bradley's messed-up downfall was no one but himself.  

"No, Bradley. It's not like that, it's just—..."  

Max took a breath, thinking twice, if not three times, about what he was going to say next.  

"I saw what happened."  

Bradley rolled his eyes, frustration evident in his gaze.  

"Everyone saw it, Goof. I saw you. What's your damn point?"  

"I'm not talking about what happened in there," he said firmly, and right then he was convinced Bradley didn't know he had witnessed his public humiliation. "What the Gammas did to you. I saw what they did. I don't like you, but... I think that's too much pressure, even for you."  

Bradley, completely silent, analyzed him. From the way he acted to how he spoke. He hated the sincerity in Max's words, but he said nothing and showed no emotion. Just a distant feeling of vulnerability knowing that Max had seen him at his lowest point (so far). What they did to him was something that would unsettle anyone.  

Max continued, feeling more confident speaking directly to Bradley, forgetting the fact that he was speaking to Bradley. A ticking time bomb.  

"I just wanted to know if—..."  

His words, unable to be fully expressed, were interrupted by Bradley's biting yet emotionless voice, who was beginning to lose his patience. He had already been through too much today and didn’t have the energy to deal with Max and his idiocies, much less with his sickening pity.  

Bradley stepped closer to Max, making him step back at the sight of the determination and anger in Bradley's eyes. Bradley's intentions with that approach were far from friendly, and Max could read it in those stormy blue eyes.  

"Every day, I wish you had died in that fire, Goof. Every damn day. Maybe then my life would be different now. And maybe then, I wouldn't have to see you playing the holy savior."  

"Bradley..."  

"Go to hell. I don’t want to speak to you again."  

He gave him one last look of contempt, his frown showing nothing but deep resentment. That left Max speechless, standing on the sidewalk, stunned by what Bradley had said. It was clear he wasn’t capable of helping Bradley when he couldn't even speak calmly with him without him exploding like that. He knew they didn’t like each other, but this was a different kind of hate. Something raw, deep, and shocking.  

Without saying more, Bradley turned away, not caring what Max might feel. The dark-haired boy stood frozen, watching Bradley disappear among the streets and sounds of the city.  

And without knowing it, that was the last time he would see Bradley for months.  

After countless thoughts mercilessly racing through his mind and the echoes of Bradley’s harsh words, he finally snapped out of his state and returned to the table with his friends.  

He went down the stairs, and although he tried to act normally, the truth was he seemed pensive and even downcast.  

Both PJ and Bobby were watching him impatiently from their table as he took a seat, letting himself fall onto the shared table's couch, his gaze lost as the questioning began.  

“So? What did you tell him?” PJ asked, leaning in.  

“Come on, Max, don’t keep us waiting! Did you manage to see him? What did he say? PJ was already thinking about flowers for your funeral.”  

More questions arose, but Max remained silent, thinking about everything that had happened and how he had felt bad for Bradley just moments ago. At least he had admitted that, but now he found it hard to take back that statement after what had happened. Bradley had lost power, but he still had that horrible and insufferable attitude that few could tolerate. That attitude reminded Max why he hated him.  

Finally, after making them wait, Max dared to speak, unmoved mainly by the shock of the other's cruel words.  

“You guys were right; Bradley Uppercrust is a piece of shit.”