Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

People think they know Bradley.

They call him possessive, selfish, and too controlling.

They talk about him behind his back, whispering about how he’s always so intense, always hovering, constantly needing to be the center of attention. They say he’s manipulative, that he keeps people at arm’s length, especially Max. But they don’t know him. They don’t know what it’s like to be Max—to see the real Bradley.

They don’t know that Max is the one who watches him from across the room at the coffee shop, hoping he’ll glance his way. They don’t know that Max is the one who gets jealous when he spends too much time talking to other people, even if it’s just for a few minutes. They don’t know that, sometimes, Max would rather have him all to himself, even if that means being selfish in his own way.

No, they don’t know Max at all.

That's how it's always been.

People see what they want.

To everyone else, he is the outgoing one, the charming, funny guy who lights up the room the second he steps in.

They think he is the life of the party.

They think he is just this carefree guy who never has a worry in the world.

What they don’t know is that beneath all the jokes and the laughter, Max is hiding something darker.

They don’t know that Max can’t stand the thought of someone else getting too close to Bradley. They don’t know that when his phone rings and it’s a name Max doesn’t recognize, a knot forms in his stomach, twisting tighter the longer Bradley talks to them.

They think Max is sweet.

They think Max is nice.

They don’t see the anger bubbling under the surface.

They don’t know the lengths Max will go to when he feels threatened.

Max never wanted to feel like this—possessive, selfish—but Bradley… Bradley makes him feel things he can’t control.

But here’s the thing no one else knows about Bradley.

The real Bradley.

The Bradley no one else gets to see.

Max does.

The Bradley who isn’t afraid to let his guard down when it’s just the two of them. When they’re lying together, Bradley traces small patterns on Max’s back as Max rests his head on his chest. The weight of the world seems to fade away. His touch is so gentle, so tender, like Bradley is afraid of breaking something fragile—like Max.

When the lights are low and the world is quiet, Bradley lets himself be vulnerable. No one ever sees that side of him, not his friends, not anyone. He’s never let them in. But Max has had the privilege of witnessing it—the soft side of him that no one knows exists. He talks about his fears, about how he doesn’t think he’s good enough for the people he loves. Max can see the way Bradley doubts himself sometimes, the way his tough exterior cracks, just for Max.

The way his voice softens when he whispers that he’s proud of him.

When he says it, it’s like he means it with every part of him. Max never expected him to be that kind of guy. But Max learned quickly that Bradley isn’t just the guy people think he is. He’s not just the guy who keeps to himself, the one everyone thinks is just a little too controlling. He’s the guy who secretly stays awake all night worrying about whether Max is okay, the one who holds him tightly in his arms when Max has a bad day, even though Bradley will never admit it to anyone else.

And when no one’s looking, when they’re alone, Max knows Bradley needs him just as much as Max needs him. Bradley doesn’t say it out loud, but it’s in the way he holds Max, in the way his eyes soften when he looks at Max, in the way he pulls him close as if Max were the only thing that matters.

Max loves him so much.

So much it hurts.

It was a Friday night when it happened.

They were at Bean Scene, sitting across from each other in their usual corner. PJ and Selena were having one of their endless poetry debates, but Max was too busy watching Bradley, as usual.

And he wasn’t alone.

Her again.

That girl who had been hanging around the café a lot lately. She had the kind of smile that could melt anyone, and the way she leaned in to listen to Bradley made Max’s chest tighten.

Max remembered. Bradley told him that he made a new friend named Lindzey, and you know what? Max doesn't give a shit about her. What shit does he really care about is… how clearly she likes Bradley. Max fucking hates her. Max bit his bottom pierced lip; that is what he does when he is feeling jealous and insecure.

Max had been half-listening to PJ and Selena, but now their conversation was just background noise.

His fingers curled tightly around his coffee cup as his heartbeat pounded in his ears. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but every time she laughed—every time she flipped her hair and leaned closer—Max felt his stomach churn.

Bradley was leaning forward, laughing at something she had said, and she was giving him that look—the kind of look Max had seen too many times.

Flirty.

Too close.

Her hand was resting casually on the edge of the table, her fingers just inches away from Bradley’s.

Max’s jaw clenched. His grip on his cup was too tight, the heat from his coffee burning against his fingers, but he didn’t let go.

He couldn’t look away.

He wanted to.

But he couldn’t.

His chest felt tight, like there wasn’t enough air in the café anymore. His pulse throbbed in his throat, his breathing shallow as he imagined her hand moving closer, her fingers brushing against Bradley’s—

No.

Max swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away before he did something stupid.

“Max, you’re kind of zoning out,” PJ said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You alright?”

Max blinked, trying to pull himself together. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile. “Just… a little tired.”

But Max wasn’t tired. Max was angry. And Max was jealous. He didn’t even know why. Bradley was his boyfriend, not hers. He wasn’t supposed to be talking to anyone else like that.

PJ raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You look a little… off.”

“I’m fine, PJ,” Max repeated, his voice a little sharper than he intended.

PJ shrugged, looking back at Selena, who was gesturing wildly as she argued her point about a poem she’d just written. Max forced himself to smile and nod, making the occasional joke to keep the atmosphere light. His friends didn’t know what was going on with him, and he wasn’t about to ruin the evening over something as trivial as a girl flirting with Bradley.

“Hey, I was thinking we should hit the arcade later,” Selena said, catching Max’s attention. “You down?”

Max grinned, happy for the distraction. “Yeah, that sounds fun. I could totally kick both of your asses at air hockey.”

PJ laughed. “We’ll see about that.”

Max let the conversation flow smoothly, making his usual jokes and keeping things light. He couldn’t let his feelings show too much. It wasn’t fair to let them slip in front of his friends. They didn’t know about his possessiveness, about how he felt when Bradley paid too much attention to someone else.

No, it was better to just act like nothing was wrong.

But inside, the feeling wouldn’t go away.

Every time he glanced at Bradley, who was still talking to the girl, a wave of discomfort surged through him. Max wanted to scream and pull Bradley away from her, but instead, he just kept smiling and joking around with his friends, pretending everything was fine.

Later that night, when they were finally alone, Max couldn’t stop himself. He cornered Bradley in the small kitchen of their apartment, his jealousy finally boiling over.

Max slammed his lips against Bradley’s, all of his frustration and possessiveness pouring into the kiss. He didn’t care if he was being too rough—he wanted Bradley to feel how much he needed him.

Bradley’s hands found their way to Max’s waist. “Max, are you okay? You’ve been quiet on our way home.”

“’m fine,” Max murmured, but his teeth bit Bradley’s bottom lip—harder than he meant to.

Bradley doesn’t look convinced. “Max, I can tell something’s bothering you,” he said softly.

Max pulled away, avoiding Bradley’s gaze in annoyance. “It’s nothing, really,” he replied unconvincingly. Now he felt distant, irritated that Bradley was prying too much into his thoughts.

Bradley stilled.

Max knew what that meant.

Great, he is turned off.

So is Max.

Fuck this.

Max let Bradley go, heading to sit down on the leather couch. Bradley followed after him, sitting beside him.

Max could feel Bradley’s concerned gaze on him, making him feel guilty for not being more open about his feelings. He gnawed on his pierced lip, being stubborn and refusing to open up. Max knew he needed to communicate better, but his pride was getting in the way.

Bradley sighed and moved closer. “You’re being ridiculous, Max.”

Max crossed his arms tighter as he zoned into the TV screen, trying to ignore Bradley.

But deep down, he knew Bradley was right—he was too jealous, but Bradley was Max's, only Max's. No one else's. He wants his eyes only on Max, not anyone else, especially not that girl.

He knows Bradley is gay, but he can't help but feel possessive and insecure at times.

Bradley moved his arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a comforting hug.

Max's head rested against Bradley's shoulder, soaking himself in his touch. He feels so touch-deprived lately, and Bradley's embrace was exactly what he needed in that moment.

“Just leave it at that, Brad.” Max’s tone was sharp. He didn’t want to admit it. Didn’t want to show Bradley that he was jealous. Maybe Bradley understood, but Max couldn’t face it right now.

He didn’t want to admit it.

Didn’t want to show Bradley how deep this feeling ran.

But deep down, Max wasn’t just angry—he was scared.

Scared of losing him.

Scared that, one day, someone else would make Bradley forget about him.

Bradley didn’t understand.

He didn’t know what it felt like to be losing something that was Max's.

Bradley was quiet for a long time, and Max couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused. But when he spoke again, his voice was softer.

“Max,” he said, placing a hand on Max’s cheek. It was almost as if he could read Max’s mind. “I’m with you, okay? I’m not going anywhere, Max. I love you.”

He planted a kiss on Max’s cheek.

And for a moment, Max almost believed him. But then, he remembered… Max didn’t need to believe him. Max knew what he was capable of. Max wasn’t like the others. He didn’t just get jealous. He acted on it.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

How people see what they want to see.

They think Max is just this nice guy who’s always smiling. They have no idea what’s really going on inside him, what he is willing to do to keep Bradley all to himself. They don’t know the lengths he will go to when someone threatens what’s his.

And Bradley?

He doesn’t know yet.

But he will.

Chapter Text

The classroom hummed with the usual energy, the kind that filled the air as students shuffled around, finding their seats and chatting before class began. Bradley and Max slid into the back corner like they always did. The back row had become their spot, a place where they could quietly exist together, away from prying eyes.

But even here, Max couldn't help but be all over him—his hand resting on his thigh beneath the desk, fingertips tapping lightly against his jeans. Max just couldn't get enough of him.

Max’s knee brushed against Bradley’s under the table, and his breath caught in his throat. The touch was so casual, so easy, yet it made his pulse spike. He tried to pretend like he wasn’t aware of the way Bradley’s warmth seeped into him, the way the slight pressure of his thigh beneath Max’s hand felt grounding and familiar. His hand lingered there longer than it should have, fingers pressing lightly against Bradley’s leg. He didn’t dare look at him, though. He didn’t want to see Bradley’s eyes searching him for answers he wasn’t ready to give.

Instead, Max focused on the lecture. But his mind was far away, lost in the rhythm of Bradley’s fingers tapping quietly against the desk and the faint sound of his pen scribbling across the page. The professor’s voice was a blur in the background, just noise that buzzed in his ears, failing to drown out the presence of Bradley sitting next to him.

Bradley always made everything feel so easy—like he was just naturally in control. Like he wasn’t even trying to notice how Max was slowly unraveling next to him.

He caught a glimpse of Bradley’s notebook. Small doodles filled the edges of the page—little hearts and stick figures, some of which looked suspiciously like Max, his hair drawn a little too messy, his smile just a little too bright.

Max’s chest tightened. Of course, Bradley was drawing. The guy was so damn smart, so effortlessly good at everything he did. Bradley had already aced every test in this class, probably didn’t even need to show up, but here he was, still paying attention. Still filling the margins with sketches of them—him and Max, the two of them together, even in the middle of a lecture.

Max wanted to say something, anything, but the words stuck in his throat, a lump forming when he saw one of the doodles—two figures standing side by side, arms loosely around each other, a simple sketch that looked like it was made out of affection rather than art.

He swallowed hard, his gaze snapping away from the notebook, his heart doing that stupid little leap whenever Bradley did something that made him feel… too much.

“Max?” Bradley’s voice was soft, almost teasing, and Max startled, glancing up to meet his eyes.

Bradley was looking at him, a slight curve to his lips, the kind of look that Max couldn’t decode.

Max blinked. “Yeah?”

"You're spacing out again," Bradley murmured, his voice low enough for only Max to hear. He could feel Bradley's eyes on him, and Max turned his gaze to Bradley, watching his fingers as they traced small doodles on the edge of his notebook.

Max grinned, moving his hand slightly, letting his fingers linger a little longer on Bradley's leg. "I'm not spacing out," Max whispered back, leaning in closer. "I'm just watching you."

Bradley raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You know you're supposed to be paying attention, right? Or you'll end up copying my notes again."

Max's lips curled up at the comment, but he couldn't help but roll his eyes at the same time.

"I'm just trying to be a good boyfriend and keep an eye on you. You know, make sure you're not getting distracted by..." he trailed off, glancing over to the random girl sitting a couple of rows ahead of them, the one who always gave Bradley those lingering looks.

He thinks her name was Celia, or whatever. She had soft brown hair that fell in loose waves, and with striking green eyes that seemed to linger just a little too long whenever she glanced at Bradley.

He hates her. 

Bradley followed his gaze for a second before his eyes snapped back to Max. "Don't worry about it. I'm not interested in her."

Max nodded but felt his stomach churn a little. He couldn't stand the thought of someone else looking at his Bradley, especially the way she had been. Max had to remind himself not to let it get to him, but sometimes it was hard.

Bradley's leg brushed against his as Bradley shifted in his seat, and Max couldn't resist. He squeezed Bradley's thigh gently, his fingers pressing into the fabric of his jeans just a little too hard. Max felt him stiffen under his touch, but it didn't take long before his body relaxed again, his muscles yielding to me.

He glanced at Max, his gaze soft.

"Max, you're being a little possessive today," he whispered with a slight smirk. He knew exactly what Max was doing, but he didn't mind.

He chuckled, tapping his fingers on his leg once more. "I'm not possessive. I just like having you close."

Bradley rolled his eyes but smiled.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"You don't mind, do you?" Max asked innocently, tilting his head and letting his lips curl into a mischievous grin.

He didn't answer, just shook his head like he was trying to hide his smile. He was so easy. The way he let Max have his way, even if he pretended to resist sometimes.

The rest of class went by quickly, and Max kept his hand where it was, occasionally giving his thigh a squeeze or letting his fingers graze higher up, just to see if he'd react.

And, of course, Bradley did. He always did.

Before Max knew it, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class. Max reluctantly pulled his hand away from Bradley's leg as we both stood up.

Bradley stretched his arms above his head, the muscles in his back rippling as he groaned in satisfaction.

Max loved watching him like this. It was so easy to get lost in him, in the way he moved, the way he carried himself.

"Max, let go," he said with a laugh, his voice light. "You know I have another class. I can't just skip it."

Max reached out and grabbed his hand, not wanting to let go of him just yet.

"I know. But I'll see you later, right?" His voice was softer this time, almost pleading.

Bradley kissed his cheek, his lips lingering for a second longer than necessary. It wasn't a big deal, but to me, it felt like the world. "Of course, I'll see you later, Max."

As he walked off to his next class, Max watched him go for a moment before he turned and made his way outside to meet up with Bobby. He was usually hanging around by the big oak tree by the campus entrance, smoking weed and doing whatever. Today was no different.

The air was crisp, the scent of fall thick in the atmosphere. The leaves on the trees were starting to turn yellow and red, creating a sea of color across the ground. It was beautiful, but his mind was elsewhere. Always elsewhere.

"Yo, Max!" Bobby called out from under the tree, grinning lazily as he leaned against the trunk. A joint hung loosely from his fingers, and he waved it in the air like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Max smirked and walked over to him, accepting the joint without hesitation. "What's up, Bobby?"

He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his eyes narrowing as he watched me closely. "Same old, man. Same old. You look like you're in a mood, though. What's going on?"

Max took a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling slowly.

"Nothing, really. Just... thinking about stuff."

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Stuff? Man, you're always thinking about stuff. You gotta just chill. Life's too short for all that drama."

"Yeah, well, not everyone gets to have it easy," he muttered, sitting down next to Bobby. Max leaned back against the tree, looking up at the sky for a moment before glancing at Bobby. "You ever think about just... I don't know, dropping everything and running away? Just getting away from everything?"

Bobby laughed, shaking his head.

"You're something else, Max. But nah, man, I like my life here. Why would I want to leave? The world's got everything we need, right? And we've got everything we need, too." He paused, eyes narrowing as he looked at Max again. "But you? You always act like you have something to hide."

Max let out a breath, flicking some dirt off my jeans. "Maybe I do."

"Well, whatever it is, you know you can tell me," Bobby said, his voice serious for a moment. He passed him the joint again, and Max took it without saying anything.

I didn't want to talk about it. About how much I hated seeing other people look at Bradley. About how I couldn't stop myself from wanting him all the time, even when he wasn't around. I didn't want to admit how possessive I was, how much I needed him.

Max thought all that in his head.

Max took another drag from the joint, letting the smoke roll through his lungs as Bobby watched him, clearly expecting more. He could always tell when something was on his mind. That’s what happens when you’ve known someone as long as they have known each other.

“So, how’s everything with you and Brad?” Bobby asked casually, his voice mellow from the weed, though Max could tell he was genuinely curious. “You guys doing alright?”

He exhaled slowly, “We’re good, Bobby. Everything’s fine.”

Bobby didn’t press Max. He just nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Glad to hear it.”

He took a long drag from his own joint and passed it to Max without missing a beat. “So, what’s new with you guys? Besides… living together now, I guess?”

Max took the joint from him and inhaled; Max mulled over how much he wanted to say. “We’re just… figuring things out, you know?”

Max exhaled slowly, staring out at the leaves rustling in the breeze. “It’s… different. But good.”

Bobby nodded again, seemingly content with the answer. They fell into comfortable silence, just passing the joint back and forth, enjoying the mellow buzz.

Every so often, one of them would toss out something random, like how they were going to hit up that late-night diner or maybe take a trip to the beach once it warmed up.

The weed made everything seem a little funnier, a little lighter.

Max had been lost in his own thoughts, but the sound of footsteps pulled him back. He glanced up to see Bradley strolling toward them, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. A slow, easy grin spread across Bradley’s face when he spotted Max and Bobby lounging under the tree, clearly high.

Bradley shook his head, amused. “Looks like you two are having a good time.”

Max smirked, but something inside him twisted with a sharp, possessive edge. Bradley had that effect on him. He loved that smile, loved the way Bradley could walk into a room and own it without saying a word. But right now, Max didn’t want to share him. Not with Bobby. Not with anyone.

“Yeah, Bobby and I were just making sure we’re well-fed on the good stuff.” Max’s tone was casual, but his grip on the joint tightened slightly as he passed it to Bradley. He watched every movement—the way Bradley’s fingers brushed his own, the way his lips parted to inhale.

Mine, Max thought, the silent claim curling around his mind like smoke.

Bradley took the joint, raising an eyebrow at Max’s intense stare. “If you’re offering,” he said, dragging out the words just to tease.

Max swallowed, forcing down the jealousy bubbling in his chest. It wasn’t about the joint. It wasn’t even about Bobby. It was about Bradley.

Bradley exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “Not bad. Definitely better than what I’ve got. It’s like you’ve got a secret stash or something.”

Max’s grin deepened. “You know me, always prepared.” There was a quiet challenge in his voice, something deliberately unreadable.

Bobby, still slouched against the tree, let out a lazy chuckle. “Connections, huh?” He smirked, giving Max a knowing look. “You mean like me?”

Max barely spared Bobby a glance, his focus locked on Bradley.

“Exactly,” Max said, voice smooth but firm. “Bobby here keeps me stocked.”

Bradley turned to Bobby, amusement flickering in his expression. “So, Bobby’s your dealer? That explains a lot.”

Bobby grinned. “Hey, a guy’s gotta eat. And if you’re looking for something stronger, I’ve got connections for that too.”

Max wasn’t listening. His attention was solely on Bradley, the possessiveness simmering beneath his skin.

Bradley flicked the joint between his fingers, considering. “Oh yeah? Well, I’d say this is already some next-level stuff,” he mused. “But if you’ve got anything better, I’ll bite.”

Max’s gaze sharpened. You want something better, Bradley? His lips curled into a smirk. “You sure?” he asked, his voice soft but insistent, daring him to test the waters.

Bradley, ever the smug little shit, smirked right back. “Sure, why not?”

Max pulled a small baggie from his pocket and tossed it to Bradley, watching him closely. He didn’t want to share, but if it meant keeping Bradley’s attention on him, he’d play along—for now. “Here. This one’s got a little more kick.”

Bradley caught it effortlessly, flipping it over in his palm. His eyes flicked between Max and the bag, curiosity glinting behind them. The air between them thickened, an unspoken battle of control crackling beneath the surface.

Bobby let out a chuckle, breaking the tension. “Don’t let him fool you, Brad. Max here has got a whole collection,” he said, winking. “And for you, Max, always a special discount.”

Max shot Bradley a side-eye, smirking. “You hear that? Bobby’s giving me a discount. I’m practically his best customer.”

Bradley laughed, shaking his head. “You and Bobby are a real pair,” he said, clearly entertained. “What’s next, a loyalty card?”

“I don’t need a loyalty card,” Max said smoothly, his smirk never faltering. “Bobby knows how to take care of me.” His grip on the joint tightened slightly, and though his voice was playful, there was something sharper beneath it. But you? You’re mine, Bradley. And I don’t share.

Bradley held the bag, still turning it over in his fingers. Max could see the curiosity in his eyes, but the longer he held it, the more Max wanted to rip it away. He didn’t want Bradley to take anything from Bobby—not even a damn bag of weed.

Max leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a slow, deliberate drawl. “You want to try it, or are you too busy thinking about something else?”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Something else, huh? What’s on your mind, Max?”

Max moved even closer, the warmth of his body brushing against Bradley’s. His voice was low, thick with meaning. “You. It’s always been you.”

Bradley’s breath hitched for the briefest second before he smirked, taking a long, slow drag from the joint—never breaking eye contact.

Max didn’t blink. Didn’t look away.

Mine, he thought again. And one way or another, he’d make sure everyone—including Bradley—knew it.

Max grinned, a mix of triumph and hunger in his gaze.

“You’re mine, Bradley,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

There was no room for doubt, no space for anyone else.

Not when it came to him.

Not when it came to Bradley.

Bradley’s breath caught, his lips parting slightly, and for a moment, it felt like time slowed. Max’s heart was pounding in his chest, the desire to have Bradley—completely—raging inside him.

Bobby, sensing the shift in the air, leaned back with a knowing smirk. “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit,” he muttered, standing up and walking off.

Max didn’t need to hear any more.

Max didn’t care.

He couldn’t care.

Not when Bradley was standing so close, his lips so tempting, his body so irresistible.

Max’s fingers curled around Bradley’s wrist, pulling him in close, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he was being too forward. But this was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To claim Bradley, to make him understand just how much he meant to Max. To make sure no one, not even Bradley himself, could forget it.

Without a word, Max pulled Bradley closer, his lips crashing against Bradley’s in a kiss that was desperate and filled with raw, urgent need. The world outside of them disappeared. There was no Bobby, no outside world. There was just Max and Bradley, together, and Max was determined to keep it that way.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and slightly disoriented, Bradley’s wide eyes were the only thing Max could focus on. He could see the fascination; the way Bradley was still processing everything between them made Max's heart beat faster.

good.

Max didn’t mind. He’d make sure Bradley understood. He was Max's; no one was going to change that.

Bradley’s lips parted, but Max didn’t give him a chance to speak. “You’re mine, Bradley,” Max said in a low, possessive whisper, his eyes never leaving Bradley’s. “And no one else is ever going to take that from me.” His grip tightening on Bradley's wrist, as if to remind him, as if to make it clear.

Bradley’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath, his voice soft when he finally spoke, “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m already yours."

Max’s heart surged. That’s right, he thought. Bradley was his. And he wasn’t going to let anyone—or anything—ever make him forget it.

With a smirk, Max pulled Bradley in closer, his lips brushing against his in a kiss, "Good."

Once again, his lips crashed against Bradley’s in a kiss that was rough, urgent, and full of everything Max was feeling. The world could have burned around them, and Max wouldn’t have noticed. Not with Bradley’s lips beneath his, not with him finally, completely his.

Chapter Text

It is 8:38 in the morning.

Max hated waking up alone.

It wasn’t just that he missed the warmth of Bradley’s body beside him—it was the gnawing feeling in his gut that something was off.

Bradley didn’t wake up before him. He just didn’t. Bradley liked to stay curled up against Max’s chest, clinging to him even in sleep, like he was afraid Max would disappear if he let go. The thought usually made Max smug, but right now?

Right now, it just made him uneasy.

He sat up, rubbing a hand over his face before glancing at the empty space beside him. The sheets were still warm. Bradley hadn’t been gone for long.

Max stretched, rolling his shoulders as he slid out of bed. He didn’t bother grabbing a shirt—Bradley liked him like this, anyway. And besides, he didn’t plan on being out of bed for long. Just long enough to find his boyfriend, drag him back, and wrap himself around him like a second skin.

He padded out of the bedroom, his bare feet silent against the floor. The house was still. Too quiet. The sort of stillness that made the air feel heavy, suffocating.

It was then that Max noticed the soft murmur of voices—low, sharp, familiar—drifting from the other side of the house.

Bradley’s parents.

Max’s stomach turned, the calm before a storm settling over him. He knew what was coming. The cold judgments. The sneers. They never liked him. Hell, they barely tolerated him. If only because he was a constant reminder of what Bradley wanted but could never have in their world.

Max stood still, his breath shallow. He could hear their words even from a distance, their voices tinged with that false politeness that never quite masked the contempt they held for him.

“We’re expecting you tonight.” Bradley’s father. His tone was firm, commanding. He was used to being obeyed, but Bradley was different. Bradley was stubborn, and he wasn’t afraid to defy him.

“I know.” Bradley’s voice was steady, though there was an undertone of something else there—something Max couldn’t quite place. Defiance? Resignation? Or maybe both.

“Alone.” His mother’s voice floated through the air, the word more of a demand than a suggestion. Max felt his heart rate increase.

“I want to bring Max.” Bradley’s words cut through the air like a sharp blade, an edge to his voice Max hadn’t heard in a while. It made something inside Max tighten with pride. Bradley was still fighting. At least for now.

But the silence that followed was deafening. It dragged on longer than it should have, and Max could almost feel the weight of Bradley’s parents’ disapproval seeping through the walls.

Then—laughter.

Cold. Dismissive.

“Bradley, you can’t be serious.” His father’s voice dripped with disdain. Max’s jaw clenched, the familiar bitterness bubbling up in his chest.

“He wouldn’t fit in.” Bradley’s mother added, her tone condescending. “You know that. He’s not the kind of person we associate with.”

Max’s hand curled into a fist, nails digging into his palm. He wanted to storm in there.

To scream.

To shout at them until they understood that Bradley wasn’t some puppet they could control. He wasn’t their little boy anymore.

But instead, he stayed silent, listening to the conversation unfold.

“He’s my boyfriend.” Bradley’s voice, though quiet, held the strength of a promise. A promise that he would stand his ground, even if it meant fighting against the world.

Max’s heart clenched. He was so fucking proud of him.

“And we’ve been more than patient with this… phase of yours.” Bradley’s father’s voice was cold and scornful. It was always like this, as if the mere existence of Max—and everything Bradley felt for him—was some inconvenience they had to tolerate until it “passed.”

Max could almost hear the sneer in his father’s words. “You are an Uppercrust, Bradley. A man of means. You have responsibilities. A future. You can’t waste it on… this.”

His mother’s voice joined in. “This is just a phase. You’ll get over it. We’ll help you find someone more… suitable. Someone who matches our world.”

Max’s fists tightened, his nails biting into his skin, but he didn’t move. He didn’t need to. He could already feel the hot burn of anger crawling through him, but he forced himself to stay calm. He wasn’t going to let them win this time.

“I love him.” Bradley’s voice broke through the tension, and Max’s breath hitched. The words hung in the air, fragile and powerful all at once.

“You think he loves you?” His mother’s laugh was a cruel thing. “Bradley, sweetheart, he loves what you give him. What you do for him. He’s nothing without you.”

Max could feel his heart stop. The words cut through him like a blade, and for a split second, he almost believed them. But then, something inside him snapped back into place.

No.

He wasn’t “nothing.”

He didn’t need Bradley to make him whole. They were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly. They didn’t need anyone else.

But Bradley did.

Bradley needed him.

The conversation was dragging on, but Max was no longer paying attention to the words. His mind was racing, thoughts spinning out of control, but he focused on one thing—one thought.

He would never let them take Bradley away from him. Not now. Not ever.

Max turned abruptly and walked back down the hall, his footsteps heavy. The weight of what he’d heard pressed down on him, but it didn’t matter. Bradley had said it—he loved him.

That was all that mattered.

He slipped back into their bedroom, still seething, but forcing himself to steady his breathing. He couldn’t let Bradley see how much it had shaken him.

Max ran a hand through his hair, walking over to the window and staring out. He couldn’t let Bradley’s parents break him. He couldn’t let them destroy what they had.

Bradley had spent his whole life fighting for their love, fighting for a place where he could just be himself. He wasn’t going to lose that now.

Max heard footsteps behind him and turned. Bradley stood in the doorway, looking at him with quiet concern in his eyes.

Max hesitated for only a moment before speaking, his voice low, careful. “Are you okay?” He tried to keep his tone light, like it didn’t matter, like everything was fine.

Bradley seemed to catch on immediately, his gaze softening. He took a step into the room, shrugging as if it didn’t bother him. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Max didn’t buy it for a second. He could see the tension in Bradley’s posture, the way his jaw clenched as he spoke. He knew better than to press him on it, though. He had his pride—he wasn’t about to show how much it hurt. Max just had to let him be.

Max stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “I’m not going anywhere.” He spoke softly, his voice a reassurance. “Okay?”

Bradley met his gaze, his lips twitching into a small smile. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes softened told Max everything he needed to know.

Max reached out, placing a hand on Bradley’s arm, a silent promise that no matter what happened, they’d face it together. Bradley wasn’t alone. Not now. Not ever.

“I know,” Bradley whispered, leaning in just a little closer, his voice barely above a breath.

Max tightened his grip, pulling Bradley into a hug. He could feel Bradley’s arms wrap around him, holding him just as tightly. They were both clinging to each other like life rafts in a storm, but neither of them wanted to let go.

“I’m not him,” Max muttered into Bradley’s shoulder, his words muffled. “I’m not your parents. I’m not going anywhere.”

Bradley exhaled softly, pressing his cheek to Max’s head. “I know. And I won’t let you go either.”

Max nodded, a steady warmth spreading through him. They didn’t need anyone else. They had each other.

Max’s fingers curled around Bradley’s arm, holding on like his life depended on it. He wasn’t ready for this conversation—not when Bradley still smelled like sleep, his body warm from where they had been tangled together just moments ago.

Bradley sighed, brushing his fingers through Max’s hair, letting them linger at the nape of his neck. “Max, I need to tell you something.” His voice was quiet, careful.

Max didn’t like that tone. It meant he wouldn’t like what came next.

“What?” he muttered, pressing his forehead against Bradley’s chest, his fingers gripping the fabric of his white shirt like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

Bradley hesitated before exhaling. “I have to leave tonight.”

Max tensed. His grip tightened. “Leave?” His voice was sharp. “Like… right now?”

Bradley smoothed his hands down Max’s sides, grounding him. “Not now, but later. My parents are hosting a gala, and I have to be there.”

Max pulled back just enough to stare at him, blinking. “A gala?”

Bradley gave a humorless chuckle. “Yeah. Fancy suits, fake smiles, rich people pretending they give a shit about the less fortunate—y’know, the usual.”

Max’s eye twitched. “So, basically, a circle jerk for people who think paying five bucks for a starving child cancels out their war crimes?”

Bradley snorted, shaking his head. “More like a tax write-off with free champagne.”

Max hummed, fingers trailing up Bradley’s chest, hooking onto his collar. “And you have to go?”

Bradley exhaled. “Yeah.”

Max sighed dramatically. “Ugh. Fine. I guess I’ll allow it.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you’ll allow it?”

“Yes.” Max’s hands trailed lower, sneaking under Bradley’s shirt. “But just know, if you so much as smile at some rich heiress, I will be breaking and entering tonight.”

Bradley smirked. “And here I thought you’d do that anyway.”

“True,” Max admitted, leaning in. “But now I have extra motivation.”

Bradley’s breath hitched as Max kissed him—slow, teasing, but with enough weight behind it to make him feel it in his chest. Bradley responded immediately, tilting his head to deepen it, his hands gripping Max’s waist.

Max sighed into his mouth, fingers curling into the back of his hair. He didn’t want him to go. Didn’t want to spend a whole night alone, knowing Bradley was stuck in a place that made him miserable.

Bradley pulled back just enough to press a few more kisses to Max’s lips, slower this time. Like he was memorizing him. “I’ll come back to you,” he murmured.

Max huffed. “You better.” He ran his fingers along Bradley’s jaw, tilting his chin up slightly. “Or I’ll burn down your family’s estate.”

Bradley blinked. “…Not sure if you’re joking.”

Max grinned. “Good.”

Bradley laughed, shaking his head as he pressed one last lingering kiss to Max’s lips. “You’re insane.”

“And you love it.”

Bradley sighed, pressing his forehead against Max’s. “Yeah. I do.”

Max closed his eyes, his grip tightening for just a second before he let go. “I’ll miss you so much.”

Bradley kissed his temple. “I’ll miss you too.”

They stayed like that for a moment—close, quiet, unwilling to let go just yet.

Max would be fine. He had to be. But that didn’t mean he liked this one bit.

Max sensually trailed kisses from Bradley's shoulder, up his neck, to his tantalizing jawline.

He then sensually licked and kissed every inch of Bradley's neck, eager to leave visible marks of his desire. Despite his desire, he couldn't mark Bradley because he had to attend the stupid gala.

Bradley shivered, a smirk of desire curling his lips. "You're going to make it hard for me to leave," he whispered.

"Is it working?" Max bites his pierced lip in a playful manner.

"You're making it quite challenging for me," Bradley chuckled, pulling Max on top of him on the edge of the bed with a hunger in his eyes. His fingers slipped into Max's hair as he drew closer for another passionate kiss.

Max grinned, his eyes filled with mischief as he whispered, "Who said I wanted it to be easy?"

Max's hand slid under Bradley's white shirt, teasingly removing it to expose Bradley's bare skin, inviting him to feel the warmth of their bodies melding together.

Bradley's breath hitched, a soft moan escaping his lips as he pulled Max closer, craving more of his touch.

"Jesus, Max," he groaned, devouring Max's lips with a hunger that spoke of his deep longing. Max loves every second of it; it makes him feel like he is Bradley's and he is Max's.

The tongue of Bradley always drives Max crazy; he loves how it feels in his mouth. Max deepened the kiss, relishing the flavor of Bradley's essence on his lips.

Bradley involuntarily released a soft, needy moan as he pressed against Max.

Max craves more, and Bradley, fully aware, took control and flipped them over. Max lay beneath Bradley, his heart pounding with excitement as Bradley's hands explored every inch of his body.

Bradley forcefully rips Max's pajama off in a single swift motion, revealing his bare skin.

Max gasped in surprise.

Bradley's gaze hungrily roams over Max's exposed form, causing Max to smirk knowingly, reveling in the feeling of being lusted after. Max's cock immediately hardened, aching with need at the sight of Bradley's intense gaze.

Basking in the attention, Max sensually arches his back and molds his body against Bradley's, craving more of his touch.

Max can see the eyes of desire in Bradley's gaze.

"Brady—ahh!" Max moans as Bradley squeezes Max's throat in a firm but gentle grip.

The dominance and control displayed by Bradley… is so fucking hot.

"So fucking needy, aren't you, Max?" Bradley's voice was low and husky, sending shivers down Max's spine.

Max nodded eagerly, his eyes dark with desire as he whispered, "Yes, Brady, I need you."

The grip from Bradley on Max's throat only tightened, causing Max to gasp for air, his body trembling. His cock throbs with lust as Bradley inches closer, their lips seductively close.

"Maxie," Bradley growls, his hot breath fanning across Max's face. "You're mine." The possessiveness in Bradley's tone only ignites a deeper longing in Max, who surrenders completely to the power and desire between them.

Max felt Bradley's lips crush against his, their tongues intertwining in a feverish, desperate kiss. Max's nails dug into Bradley's back, leaving a trail of fiery red marks as he pulled him closer, causing a pleasurable sting. He is pretty sure it will be left on for days, but Max doesn't fucking care.

Doesn't mind the slight bleeding; all he craves is Bradley's touch. Well, he can't mark his neck, then his back will do for now.

Max shuddered as Bradley's teeth lightly nipped at his lower lip, his finger teasing Max's hardened nipple, a surge of both pain and pleasure coursing through him.

He's fondling Max's pec, his touch firm and demanding. Squeezing, pulling, and tantalizing the sensitive flesh with expert precision. Max's body eagerly reacts, pressing into Bradley's touch, a soft moan slipping from his lips.

"Bradyyyy." Max's voice comes out in a breathless whisper.

Bradley smirks against Max's lips.

Bradley deftly maneuvers Max onto all fours, gripping his ass before drawing him closer. His tongue took control as he teased and pleased Max with every move, driving him wild.

Max surrendered himself completely to Bradley's touch.

Max's fingers gripped the sheet, and he let out a series of passionate gasps.

He could feel Bradley exploring and claiming him from within.

He arched his back, pressing eagerly against Bradley's probing tongue, craving more.

"Don't stop," Max purred.

Bradley licked his lips, flashing Max a wicked grin before sensually removing his silk pajama bottoms. Bradley will be diving back in to fulfill Max's request soon.

Max's heart pounded: thud, thud, thud.

Max's eyes lingered hungrily on Bradley as he undressed, taking in every detail with a growing desire.

Bradley let out a deep, shuddering breath of relief as his cock sprung free, aching for more.

The excitement grew as he watched Bradley approach him with a hunger in his eyes, ready to satisfy Max's desires.

Bradley seized Max's throat, forcefully pressing him onto the soft mattress, while his hand covered Max's lips, asserting control. Bradley demanded, "Suck it now."

Max eagerly took Bradley in his mouth.

Max's tongue swirled around Bradley's fingers, getting a low groan from him. The taste of him was intoxicating.

"Fuck Max, you're so fucking good at this. You want me so badly, don't you? You're insatiable for me."

He withdrew his fingers from Max's mouth, leaving his other hand possessively gripping the neck, claiming Max as his own.

With a firm grip on Max's neck, he forcefully pushed his slick fingers into Max's tight entrance, eliciting a deep moan from Max as he arched his back in ecstasy.

Without warning, Bradley swiftly withdrew his fingers and forcefully thrust into Max.

Max's eyes widened in surprise as Bradley entered him swiftly and forcefully, causing a sharp gasp to escape his lips.

"Brady!"

"Max! Fuck, Max." He growled; his hand moved from the back of the neck to his throat, his grip tightening.

Max moved his head back, giving Bradley better access as he moaned in response to the rough treatment.

He wants that. He loves when Bradley is in control like this. Give Max a break from being in control.

Max's body shivers at every thrust. He can feel the tightening in his core, his cock in desperate need of release.

"You're such a dirty little slut for me, eagerly taking all of me without hesitation." Bradley purred.

"Please, Bradley, I need to come," Max begged, his voice strained.

Bradley's grip on his neck tightened even more as he whispered in Max's ear, "Not yet, baby. I'm not finished with you."

He moved his hand from Max's neck to Max's cock, stroking it slowly as he continued to thrust into him.

Max's moans escalated into desperate cries as Bradley mercilessly tormented him.

"You belong to me, Max. I decide when you release, understand?" Bradley growled, his voice sending shivers down Max's spine.

Just like that, it drives Max crazy.

Bradley's thumb forcefully presses down on Max's sensitive tip, skillfully edging him repeatedly.

"Please," Max gasped, his body trembling with need.

Bradley chuckled darkly, enjoying the control he had over Max's pleasure. "Not yet," he growled, escalating the force of his touch with a possessive grip.

Max cried out under Bradley's unyielding grip, his release denied until Bradley deemed him worthy.

"Please. Please. I will be good to you. Just let me come," Max begged, his voice shivers in sob.

Bradley's grin widened. "I like it when you beg," he murmured.

Max was forcefully flipped onto his back as Bradley seized his cock. "I want to witness your beautiful face as you release."

Max gasps as tears cascade down his cheeks, consumed by the whirlwind of bliss and longing. Bradley's control over him was intoxicating, pushing Max to the edge of his limits.

"Please, Brady. I can't take it anymore," Max whimpered, his body trembling with need.

"You'll come when I say you can come." He rammed into Max with brutal force.

Bradley's hand stayed firmly on Max's throbbing cock. His thumb pressed firmly against the tip, holding back Max's release. Max can feel himself exploding any time soon, but Bradley's firm grip held him back.

Max can sense Bradley nearing the edge, picking up his thrusts.

"Since you've been so good, I will let you come." As Bradley let go, Max could not hold back anymore, and he exploded with a shudder, his body finally releasing all the tension that had built up.

Bradley collapsed on top of him, both of them breathing heavily.

As they lay there in a sweaty, tangled mess, Max nuzzled his face into Bradley's neck, feeling completely spent.

"I'm hungry; what is for breakfast?" Max whispered.

Bradley chuckled, "I'll make us some pancakes."

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Max was lying on the bed, head propped up on his hand, watching Bradley get ready like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Bradley stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his expensive black suit, the fabric smooth and perfectly tailored to his frame. He buttoned his jacket with precision, then reached for his tie, but Max was too busy drooling to notice the small frown forming on his face.

“Damn, B,” Max murmured, his voice thick with admiration. “You clean up real nice.”

Bradley gave him a quick glance through the mirror, raising an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”

“Nah.” Max grinned, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Just… almost makes me want to mess you up again.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, turning back to his reflection, but his fingers fumbled slightly with his tie. That did not go unnoticed.

Max was off the bed in an instant, padding over with the kind of lazy confidence that always made Bradley’s pulse spike. He reached out, fingers brushing against the silk of Bradley’s tie. “Here, let me.”

Bradley stilled as Max expertly looped the fabric, tugging it into place—except instead of letting go, he gave it a slow, deliberate pull, just enough to bring Bradley down to his level. Their faces were close, too close.

“Are you sure you have to go?” Max murmured, his voice all low and teasing, but there was something else beneath it, something softer.

Bradley swallowed, forcing himself to step back, tugging his tie free from Max’s grip. “Yes, I have to go.”

Right on cue, his phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from his chauffeur.

Time to leave.

Max pouted dramatically, flopping back onto the bed like he’d just been personally victimized. “This is, like, the worst day of my life.”

Bradley sighed, checking his cuffs. “You’ll survive.”

Max stretched his arms over his head, watching him with dark amusement. “Oh, I dunno, babe. You’re leaving me alone at night? Who knows what kind of trouble I could get into…”

Bradley froze mid-adjustment, turning to give Max a look.

Max just smirked.

That’s when Bradley knew—knew—that he wasn’t going to enjoy a single second of that gala. Not when he’d be stuck wondering what kind of chaos was unfolding at home.

And Max? Well, Max was already plotting.

Because let’s be real—max without supervision?

That’s a ticking time bomb.

Chapter Text

The air in Bobby’s apartment was thick with the familiar scents of weed, stale beer, and whatever greasy food PJ had ordered that night—probably more pizza, considering the boxes piled up.

Bobby lounged on the floor, a joint between his fingers, while PJ sat across from Max on the couch, his eyes glued to his phone, lost in whatever world he was scrolling through.

Max took a swig of his beer, trying to focus on the conversation, but his hand kept reaching for his phone. It was automatic by now. Bradley hadn’t texted back, and no matter how hard Max tried to pretend it didn’t matter, the absence of a message gnawed at him.

Bobby, as usual, noticed. He could always sense when something was off.

“Yo, Max,” Bobby said, grinning slyly, “you gonna drink that beer or just stare at it like it’s some kind of magic potion?”

Max shot him a half-smile and took the joint Bobby passed him. A quick hit, then he flicked his eyes back to his phone—still nothing.

His chest tightened, but he exhaled a cloud of smoke, trying to mask the anxiety creeping up on him.

“Relax, dude,” Bobby teased, though there was an edge to his voice now. “You’re acting like the beer’s gonna bail on you or something.”

Max rolled his eyes, doing his best to stay chill. “Nah, just tired, that’s all.”

PJ, who had been too absorbed in his phone to notice much, finally blinked and glanced up. “Tired? Man, you’ve barely moved.”

Max could feel Bobby’s eyes on him, waiting for him to crack. Instead, Bobby leaned back and took a drag from his joint, the smoke swirling around him like it was nothing.

“I mean, Max here’s probably just waiting for some big plans, huh?” Bobby said, voice dripping with that knowing tone Max had begun to recognize. “Big night ahead with… someone important.”

Max’s face heated up, his pulse quickening. “Yeah, something like that,” he muttered, trying to keep it casual.

“Someone important?” PJ chimed in, his grin goofy. “Are we talking about Bradley?”

Bobby snorted, clearly trying not to laugh. “Yeah, because you totally don’t have that ‘obsessed-with-him’ vibe.”

Max’s face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped, though his voice faltered. “We’re just… you know, normal.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, not buying it. “Sure, Max. Just don’t make it too obvious.”

Max shot him a glare, but Bobby didn’t back down. Instead, he leaned back, twirling the joint between his fingers. “It’s not like you’ve been checking your phone every three minutes or anything.”

Max’s stomach dropped. His heart raced as his hand instinctively reached for his phone again, though he already knew there was no new message.

“I haven’t,” he lied, but his voice was tight.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Really? ‘Cause, y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re counting down the minutes ‘til your boyfriend texts you back. You sure you’re not keeping tabs on him?”

Max nearly choked on his beer. “What? No, I’m not—” He glanced at PJ, hoping he hadn’t picked up on it.

PJ, blissfully oblivious, let out a loud laugh. “Dude, if you’re tracking your boyfriend like that, that’s some crazy love stuff right there. Like a GPS stalker-level thing?”

Max’s face burned, but Bobby just shot him a look, the corner of his mouth lifting in that all-knowing grin. “Nah, man, he’s probably just checking in, making sure Bradley’s not, like, lost somewhere.” He winked, but PJ was too busy in his own world to catch the sarcasm.

Max felt trapped. “I’m not obsessed,” he muttered, his voice more fragile than he intended. “I’m just waiting for him to text back.”

Bobby didn’t buy it. He leaned in a little closer. “Uh-huh. And every time that phone buzzes, you look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”

He passed the joint back to Max, his eyes sharp. “You don’t wanna be that guy, man. The one who waits around like a slave to their phone. It’s not healthy.”

Max didn’t answer. Instead, he took another long hit, holding the smoke in for a few extra seconds before releasing it, hoping it would calm the frustration in his chest. But it didn’t work.

PJ, still oblivious, made a comment that almost made Max laugh. “Man, if I had to deal with boyfriend drama, I’d need a whole pizza and at least four beers,” he said dramatically, holding up his pizza like it was a trophy.

Bobby chuckled, but there was a trace of something darker in his tone. “Yeah, Max’s probably too good at it, huh?”

Max tried to laugh it off, but there was an unsettling accuracy in Bobby’s words. He was getting too close.

“Nah, man,” Max said, checking his phone again. “Just waiting for him to get back to me.”

Bobby smirked, clearly not convinced. “Sure, Max. But you can’t keep doing this, man. You gotta stop waiting for someone who’s not even looking at their phone.”

Max swallowed hard, the weight of Bobby’s words pressing on him. He didn’t respond, just leaned back against the couch, and tried to look calm.

PJ suddenly sat up, snapping his fingers like he just had an epiphany. “Oh, wait, y’all are still talking about texting? Damn, I don’t know how you keep up with all that. I just use my phone for memes and fire poems.”

Bobby laughed, but it was strained. “Oh yeah, sure. Memes and poems. You’d be texting your girlfriend about pizza, huh?”

PJ paused for a moment, clearly considering it. “Hey, man, that’s not a bad idea. Ever try texting someone while eating pizza? It’s a whole mood.”

Max couldn’t help but laugh, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah, it’s totally a mood,” he said, exhaling the smoke slowly. But his eyes flicked back to his phone again, and his chest tightened.

Bobby noticed. “You gonna keep staring at that thing like it holds the answers?” he asked, a smirk on his face. “There’s a fine line between waiting for a message and losing your damn mind over it.”

Max didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“Whatever,” he muttered, taking another hit. “I’m just waiting for him to text back. It’s not a big deal.”

Bobby raised his eyebrow. “Right. Totally not a big deal.”

Before Max could reply, the door creaked open, and Selena walked in. She always had a way of making an entrance. Soft-spoken but sharp-eyed, she had a knack for seeing things no one else did.

“Hey,” she greeted, her eyes immediately finding Max. “You guys eating or just living off beer and weed again?”

Max gave her a guilty smile. “You know us too well.” He tried to act normal, but he felt like she was reading him.

Selena set down a bag of takeout and immediately turned her attention to Max’s phone, then back to him. “You okay? You’ve been a little… off tonight.”

Max tried to brush it off. “Yeah, just waiting for Bradley to text back.”

Bobby didn’t miss a beat. “He’s been checking that phone like it’s his lifeline,” he said with a smirk.

Selena didn’t laugh. She just stepped closer to Max, her tone soft but firm. “You don’t have to pretend, Max. I can see it. Whatever’s eating at you, it’s not nothing.”

Max opened his mouth to argue, but the words caught in his throat. Selena had a way of seeing through him, and it made him want to shrink away.

“I’m fine,” he said, but it was quieter than he intended. He checked his phone again—nothing from Bradley. His stomach twisted.

Bobby’s voice broke the silence. “Yeah, sure. But you’ve been glued to that phone for an hour now. And every time it buzzes, you jump like it’s the answer to everything.”

Max fought to keep his frustration in check. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “Bradley’s just busy.”

Selena’s gaze softened, but she didn’t let up. “Sometimes you have to stop chasing the answers, Max. Let things unfold on their own.”

Max wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. Selena always knew the right thing to say. Instead, he forced a smile. “It’s fine. Really.”

Bobby gave him a knowing look. “Uh-huh. Just don’t let it drive you crazy.”

PJ, still oblivious, added, “Man, y’all need to chill. Just let the phone do its thing.”

Max felt the tension in his chest tighten. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He just wanted to go home.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Max said quickly, standing up. “I’m heading out.”

Selena nodded, giving him a knowing look as he grabbed his things. The door closed behind him, but the weight of the night still lingered, following him all the way home.

Bradley had been distant lately. It wasn’t obvious—not to anyone but Max. To everyone else, Bradley was still the same sharp, untouchable perfectionist. But Max noticed. He noticed the way Bradley’s responses were coming in slower, how their late-night talks were cut short, and how he was starting to feel like he had to ask for Bradley’s attention instead of just having it.

Max wasn’t stupid. He knew what this was.

Bradley was slipping away.

He could feel it.

And Max wasn’t going to let that happen.

It started with something small—an excuse.

“Can’t hang out tonight, Max. Gotta finish a project.”

Bradley never flaked on him. Even when he had a thousand things on his plate, he always made time. Always.

So why now?

Max had tried to let it go, rationalized it in his head. Maybe Bradley was just stressed or overworked. But then he saw it—Bradley’s location popping up on his phone, showing that he wasn’t in the apartment.

No, he was across campus.

Max’s breath caught in his chest, his eyes scanning the screen like it was mocking him. He didn’t need to know exactly what Bradley was doing, but seeing that ping made him feel like everything was slipping further out of his grasp.

No. That wasn’t enough. He needed to see for himself. What if he was just being paranoid? What if it wasn’t a big deal? But Max knew, deep down, that it was. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Not when Bradley hadn’t been the same for a week.

By the time Max made it across campus, his stomach was in knots, his palms sweaty, and his mind spinning in a thousand different directions.

He told himself to calm down, but as he reached the corner of the building, his eyes immediately locked onto Bradley.

And there he was—sitting across from some guy, talking, laughing, completely at ease.

Max’s hands curled into fists.

Who the hell does he think he is?

Max stood frozen for a moment, his body shaking slightly with the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The sight of Bradley, laughing and talking with some guy, was like a punch to his gut. The world around him seemed to blur, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

The guy was taller, with dark hair, a broad smile, and an easy way of making Bradley laugh. Max’s fingers itched to reach for his phone, to send a text or make a call, but what was the point? Bradley was right there, in front of him. Bradley had been slipping away for week, and this was the confirmation Max hadn’t wanted to face.

The worst part? Bradley didn’t even notice him. Not when he was right there, standing in the shadows, watching his boyfriend laughing and talking to someone else like nothing was wrong.

Max’s pulse raced, and his vision tunneled, narrowing on the way the other guy touched Bradley’s arm as they talked.

Max couldn’t tear his eyes away, couldn’t ignore the way the other guy’s hand casually brushed against Bradley’s arm. A friendly gesture, yes, but to Max, it felt like a violation, like this guy was claiming something that was his. His blood boiled. He wanted to rush over, to confront the guy, to demand answers. But he couldn’t. Not like this. Not in front of Bradley, who didn’t even see him standing there.

Max’s heart pounded in his chest as his mind raced. Was this really happening? Was Bradley pulling away? Did he even care enough to notice?

Anger bubbled up in Max’s chest, hot and suffocating. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t stay here, not like this, not in the shadow of whatever this was. He wanted to storm over and demand answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Instead, he turned, the sound of his shoes on the pavement louder than he wanted it to be. His heart beat erratically, and his mind raced with thoughts that felt out of control.

By the time he made it back to their apartment, the space felt too small, suffocating. The walls were closing in around him, and all he could think about was Bradley with that guy, laughing and being something he wasn’t with Max anymore.

He dropped his bag on the floor, his hands shaking. His phone sat on the counter, screen facing up, as if mocking him. He had turned off the ringer earlier, but it didn’t matter. Bradley hadn’t texted. He hadn’t called. He hadn’t—

The sharp sound of his phone buzzing made him jump, and without thinking, he snatched it up.

A message from Bradley.

Bradley: Sorry, I missed your message. I was working on a project with some friends. Can we talk later?

The words were simple, and they should have felt reassuring. But they didn’t. Not when everything inside Max screamed that this wasn’t just about a “project” anymore.

This was more than that.

Max’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as he stared at the message, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to reply, to tell Bradley how hurt he was, how much he needed him, but that would be too much. He couldn’t come off as desperate, not again.

Instead, he typed a quick reply.

Max: Yeah, sure. Later.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself.

He threw the phone down onto the couch and wandered into the kitchen. He was already feeling that familiar pit in his stomach, the one that formed every time things between him and Bradley seemed off. He couldn’t tell if he was just overreacting or if something was actually wrong.

A few hours later, the door creaked open, and Bradley’s voice rang out from the hallway.

“Maxie? You home?”

Max froze. He didn’t know how to respond, but he didn’t have time to hide. Bradley appeared in the doorway, his eyes meeting Max’s.

Bradley’s voice softened when he saw the expression on Max’s face. “Hey, you alright? You look… out of it.”

Max forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied, turning back to the counter. “Just… tired.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. He stepped further into the kitchen, his eyes glancing over at Max’s phone before landing on him again.

“You’re sure? You’ve been off since earlier.”

Max’s words tumbled out before he could stop them, his voice sharp, dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, I’m so sure,” he mocked, trying to disguise the unease in his chest. “I’ve been great, you know? Just perfect. It’s not like you’ve been weird since the gala or anything. I’ve got a boyfriend who’s been acting like I don’t fucking exist for the past week.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, the smirk still playing on his lips. “Oh, so now I’m the problem, huh?”

He said, clearly enjoying the tension he was stirring. “It’s not like I’ve been busy or anything. You know, school stuff. The Innocence Project, remember?”

Max’s eyes flickered with irritation. The thought of Bradley working with some guy on a project made his stomach twist, even if it was just for school. “Yeah, that’s cute. You’re spending all this time with that guy, getting cozy, and I’m supposed to believe it’s all innocent?”

Bradley straightened up, crossing his arms with a smug look. “Well, it’s just a project, Max. But I get it—you’ve got a real talent for turning everything into something bigger than it is.”

Max’s jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. “It’s not nothing, Bradley. You’ve been all over the place lately, and you think I don’t notice? You think I’m just supposed to ignore it?”

Bradley snorted, clearly enjoying Max’s reaction. “Yeah, well, maybe you should. I mean, you’ve been acting all jealous and weird about the smallest shit. I don’t get it. I’m not gonna ditch you over some school project. But hey, if you wanna make it a big deal, feel free.”

Max’s fingers twitched, the jealousy gnawing at him like an infection. “I’m not making it a big deal. You’re just so good at acting like I’m the crazy one in this situation.”

Bradley stepped closer, his face still amused, but something flickered in his eyes. “Aw, poor Max. Jealous little Max. What’s wrong? Can’t handle it when I talk to other people? Can’t handle when I have a life outside of you?”

Max’s heart hammered in his chest, his hands trembling with a mix of anger and something deeper, something more desperate. “I just want you to fucking notice me,” he spat, barely able to keep his voice steady.

Bradley’s amusement shifted into something sharper, but he didn’t back down. “I notice you, Max. I notice everything you do. But you’re not the only one with shit going on. You’re not the only one who needs attention.”

Max’s lips curled into a tight, bitter smile. “So now you’re tired of me, too? Is that it? You don’t have the patience for me anymore?”

Bradley didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took another step forward, his eyes locking with Max’s. “You really think I’m tired of you? No, Max. You’re not the problem. It’s just… you always expect things to be perfect, and I’m not here for your drama.”

Max clenched his fists, his face flushing with frustration. “My drama? You think I’m making this into something it’s not?”

Bradley shrugged, his tone still laced with a teasing, mocking edge. “You’re doing it again. Getting all emotional, acting like I’m the one doing something wrong. Maybe… just maybe… you’re the one making this a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

Max took a step back, his mind racing. He wanted to lash out, to punch something, but the words stuck in his throat. Bradley was right, in a way—Max was making this into something bigger than it was. But he couldn’t stop the jealousy, the frustration, the feeling that he was losing Bradley.

Bradley raised an eyebrow, watching Max’s every move with a satisfied smirk. “What? No comeback? You’re always so full of shit, but now you’re quiet. How cute.”

Max finally snapped, the sarcasm rolling off his tongue before he could stop it. “Yeah, guess I’m just speechless from your stellar performance. Maybe I should take notes on how to act like a real asshole.”

Bradley’s smirk faltered, and for a moment, the amusement left his eyes. “You really wanna keep pushing me, Max? You really wanna do this?”

Max’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t know, Bradley. Maybe I do.”

Bradley’s voice broke through with a raw, guttural edge. “Fuck you, Max."

The way Bradley’s posture shifted, his jaw clenching, his eyes narrowing. Max had seen that look before—he hated it. The look of someone holding something back, someone who was fed up. And now it was Bradley who seemed to be simmering under the surface, not Max.

Bradley’s voice snapped through the tension, sharp and unexpected.

“You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with, do you?” His voice was tight, controlled, but there was an unmistakable fire behind it.

Max blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift in Bradley’s demeanor. This wasn’t the Bradley he was used to. This wasn’t the Bradley who smiled at him through their quiet moments. Now, he was a storm, a tidal wave of frustration and raw emotion, and Max was caught right in the middle of it.

“I’m not the one acting all fucked up here,” Bradley growled, his tone rising with anger. “I’m not the one who’s been… I don’t even know, clingy? Just—shut up for a minute, okay?"

His chest was rising and falling, breath coming quicker, and Max could see the anger flickering in his eyes. The words that followed burned like fire.

“You think I’m just shutting you out because I want to?” Bradley’s voice cracked, the rawness in it slicing through the silence between them.

“You think it’s that easy for me? To just be fine, to just pretend everything’s okay?"

He shook his head. “I’m tired, Max. I’m fucking tired of all of this. My parents won’t stop telling me I need to find some girl, that this is just a phase. Like this—us—isn’t real, and that… it’s gonna end sooner or later. And you? You keep pushing, keep questioning, like it’s all about you. And it’s not.”

Max felt his chest tighten, his stomach twisting in a knot, but he couldn’t hold back. Bradley’s words hit too hard, too deep, and the anger surged up in Max like a storm.

“Oh, it’s my fault?” Max snapped, his voice suddenly cold. “You’re the one who’s been shutting me out, Bradley. Don’t try to twist this around like I’m the one at fault here.”

“Stop! Stop!” Bradley cried, his voice shaking with frustration and hurt.

But Max wasn’t done. His anger bubbled over now, his frustration spilling out with every word.

“I’m trying, okay? I’m trying so fucking hard to make sure you know I care about you, that I’m not going anywhere. But you’ve been distant, you’ve been cold, and I’m the one who’s supposed to just keep pretending like nothing’s wrong?”

Bradley’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing.

“I didn’t say that,” he bit out, his voice strained, but Max could see the hurt in Bradley’s gaze, the way it flickered like it had just been slapped.

“You’re damn right you didn’t, but you’ve been acting like I’m not even here, like I’m not the one who’s been there for you through all of this bullshit. And now, suddenly, it’s my fault?” Max’s voice was rising, the heat of anger rushing through him now.

“You think I don’t feel the pressure too? You think I don’t see the way your parents treat us, like it’s just a phase, like it doesn’t matter?”

Bradley opened his mouth to say something, but Max wasn’t done. His heart was pounding in his chest, adrenaline rushing through him like wildfire.

“I get it, Bradley. I do. But don’t try to make it sound like I’m the one making things worse. I’m not the one pulling away, am I?” Max’s voice cracked, the words coming out before he could stop them. His anger was raw, jagged—he was hurt, and he didn’t know how to make that go away.

There was silence for a moment, thick and suffocating. Bradley didn’t speak, but his eyes—God, his eyes—were filled with something Max couldn’t quite place. Regret? Guilt? Maybe it was both.

Max’s chest tightened, his gut twisting in a familiar knot. His instincts screamed to hold on, to not let go, but the words Bradley was saying struck him deep.

“So, you want to let go? Is that what you’re saying? Fine. I can give you that. But don’t make it seem like I’m the fucking problem when you’ve been the one shutting me out for a week.”

Bradley shook his head violently, his emotions tipping over the edge. “No! I don’t want to let go. I love you. I fucking love you. But it feels like everything’s collapsing on me, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending I’m okay."

Before Max could finish, Bradley turned away, his fists clenched in fury. Without thinking, he grabbed the chair next to him and threw it across the room. It crashed into the wall with a loud bang, the force of it shaking the room.

Max stepped back, eyes wide in shock. He had never seen Bradley like this before. His pulse raced, the rawness of Bradley’s emotion hitting him harder than he expected. “What the fuck, Bradley?”

Bradley’s breathing was heavy, chest heaving with the force of it. “You don’t get it, Max!” Bradley’s voice cracked, his words coming out in a broken fury.

Max’s head spun as he tried to process what Bradley was saying, the anger still raging inside him. “I just—" Max said, voice trembling, his frustration breaking through.

Bradley cut him off, the pain in his voice making Max’s chest tighten. “I don’t need you to fix it, Max. I don’t need your fucking control. I just need space to breathe!”

Bradley’s words hit Max like a punch to the gut, and the room felt smaller, suffocating in its weight. Bradley turned away from him, storming toward the bedroom. But before he could reach the door, Max snapped.

The rage, the hurt, the desperation—it all came pouring out. Without thinking, he punched the wall with a sickening thud, his knuckles colliding with the drywall. The impact left his hand numb, and pain shot up his arm, but it didn’t matter.

Bradley froze, his hand hovering just above the doorknob, his back to Max.

Max’s breath came heavy, his pulse quickening. “Don’t you walk away from me!” he shouted, his voice raw.

Bradley stilled, but Max didn’t care anymore. His breathing was ragged, his knuckles stinging from the impact.

“I don’t want you to leave me, Bradley! I just want to fucking fix this!”

And then, as if everything that had been building up for so long finally broke, Bradley collapsed to the floor in a sobbing heap, his body wracked with the force of his tears.

“Fuck you,” he whispered through the tears, a broken, heart-wrenching sound that Max wasn’t prepared for.

Max’s throat tightened. He wanted to keep yelling, to keep pushing back, but seeing Bradley like this—seeing him broken, so fragile and vulnerable—made his own anger feel stupid. His pulse was racing, the guilt starting to settle in like a heavy weight in his chest.

“Brad,” Max said, his voice trembling. He stepped forward, the words catching in his throat. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

Bradley’s face was buried in his hands, his body shaking with every sob, and Max could feel his chest ache with the overwhelming need to fix this, to somehow take away the pain he had caused. But everything felt so difficult. It was like the anger still lingered in him, fighting against the overwhelming urge to comfort Bradley, to make it right.

“Bradley, I’m sorry,” Max muttered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I—I didn’t mean to push you like that. I—I just… I just didn’t know what to do anymore.”

His words stumbled out, thick with frustration at his own inability to handle this moment. He took another step toward Bradley, this time crouching down beside him, his hand hovering over Bradley’s trembling shoulder.

Bradley flinched at first, like he expected Max to push him away, to keep arguing, but Max’s hand slowly settled on his back, the touch gentler than he had intended.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Max admitted, his voice low, his throat tight with emotion. “I don’t want to lose you, baby. Please, just… just talk to me, okay? I’m so sorry for everything. I don’t know how to make it right, but I’ll try. I swear.”

Bradley let out a broken laugh, something between a sob and a bitter chuckle.

“I don’t even know what’s right anymore,” he whispered, his voice still thick with tears, but there was a flicker of something softening in his tone. “I just want to feel like I’m not alone in all of this.”

Max’s heart ached. “You’re not alone,” he whispered, leaning closer. “You never were, babe. I swear I’m not going anywhere. Please… please believe me.”

Bradley didn’t respond at first. His body remained tense under Max’s hand, but after a long moment, Max felt the muscles in Bradley’s shoulders soften, just slightly. He wasn’t pushing Max away anymore. Max held him there, his hand resting lightly on Bradley’s back as he whispered a soft, continuous apology.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

There were no more words for a while. Just the soft sound of Bradley’s breathing, still ragged and uneven, as Max continued to hold him, trying to calm his own racing heart. This was harder than he had thought—harder than he had ever expected—but it was worth it.

Max didn’t want to fight anymore. He didn’t want to hurt Bradley. He just wanted him to stay, to stay with him through everything, no matter how fucked up it got.

Max closed his eyes, feeling the weight of Bradley's body against his own, the warmth of his breath on his neck. In that moment, he pressed his lips against Bradley's hair and whispered, "I love you, Bradley."

Bradley's body relaxed in Max's arms. Max knew that no matter what challenges they faced, he was willing to fight for their relationship.

Chapter Text

The kitchen was too fucking quiet.

Max moved around, cracking eggs into the pan, flipping the bacon, but it all felt robotic—like he was going through the motions just to do something, just to keep his hands busy. His knuckles still throbbed from the punch he’d thrown at the wall last night, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the tight, aching pit in his chest.

Last night was bad. Worse than he thought it would get.

The sound of Bradley’s voice breaking, the look in his eyes—like Max was just another weight dragging him under instead of the one person who was supposed to fucking love him—kept replaying in his head, over and over, like a bad loop he couldn’t turn off. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see it. Feel it.

He didn’t know how to fix this.

So instead, he was cooking.

Like that would magically erase the fact that he’d pushed Bradley too hard, like it would somehow make up for the way things spiraled out of control. Like if he made breakfast and smiled just right, everything would go back to normal. He knew it was ridiculous, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Then he heard it—soft footsteps behind him.

Bradley.

Max’s body reacted before his mind caught up. His heart slammed against his ribs, his pulse spiking as he turned around.

Bradley stood there, looking wrecked. His eyes were tired, red, and swollen from crying all night, his under-eyes bruised from lack of sleep. There were dark circles underneath, like someone had painted his face with exhaustion.

His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. His posture was stiff, guarded, like he was bracing for the worst. He didn’t look like the guy Max had fallen for—he looked broken, and it hit Max in a way he couldn’t describe.

Fuck. Max didn’t want that.

His lips parted, but before he could even think, his voice came out softer than he expected. “Morning, baby.”

Bradley hesitated.

That tiny moment of hesitation hurt.

More than it should.

Max knew Bradley was trying to gauge the situation, trying to figure out if it was safe to let his guard down or if they were just going to explode again. If they’d end up hurting each other again, just like they always did.

So Max did the only thing that made sense—he closed the distance between them in two quick steps and pulled Bradley into a hug.

Bradley tensed at first.

Max hated that.

So he held him tighter, pressing their bodies together like that would somehow make everything better. He buried his face in the curve of Bradley’s neck, inhaling his scent, trying to ground himself in the feeling of Bradley being right there in his arms. Like if he could just hold him long enough, everything would be okay. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment. “I love you so much, Bradley.”

His hands curled around Bradley’s waist, fingers gripping too tightly, like if he let go, Bradley might just slip through his fingers, like he was too fragile to hold on to.

Bradley didn’t push him away.

He didn’t hug him back either.

Max swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it harder to breathe. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut, he spoke again. “I made breakfast,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Bradley’s shoulder. He pulled back just a little to look at him, desperate to offer something, anything. “Bacon. Eggs. I made it just the way you like.”

Bradley exhaled a little, his body losing some of its tension, but his eyes remained distant, sad. “Max…”

Max’s hands slid up, cupping his face gently, his thumbs brushing over the faint bruises under Bradley’s eyes from lack of sleep. They were darker than usual, angry against his pale skin. Max’s touch was so light, so careful, like he was afraid to break him even more. “Please don’t be mad at me anymore,” he murmured, pressing their foreheads together, his eyes shut tight as if trying to seal the moment in place. “I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me, baby. It fucking kills me.”

Bradley let out a breathy chuckle—soft, but strained. “You’re so dramatic.”

Max wanted to smile at the words, to let the tension break. But instead, he just held Bradley’s face there, feeling his pulse beneath his fingertips, wondering if things could ever go back to how they were before all the shit hit the fan.

Max’s lips twitched. “I am dramatic. But I mean it.”

Bradley pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning Max’s face. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t frowning either. He just looked tired.

Max reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Sit down,” he said, leading him to the counter. “Eat. Please.”

Bradley sat, but Max didn’t move away.

Instead, he stood behind him, wrapping his arms around Bradley’s shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again, letting his lips linger there. “For everything.”

Bradley didn’t answer right away.

But he reached up, grabbing one of Max’s hands, squeezing it lightly.

Max felt suffocated by the silence.

Bradley wasn’t talking about it. Wasn’t bringing up last night. Wasn’t yelling at him or rolling his eyes or calling him a jealous idiot.

And somehow, that was worse.

The air between them was thick with something unspoken, something Max couldn’t fix no matter how much he tried. So he did what he knew how to do—he smothered Bradley in affection, pressed kisses into his skin, and touched him like he was trying to rewrite last night with his hands.

But Bradley wasn’t responding the way he usually did. He wasn’t leaning into it. He wasn’t teasing Max or calling him needy.

He was just there, silent and distant, pushing food around on his plate like Max hadn’t woken up early just to make it for him.

Max hated it. Hated the way it made his chest feel tight, like if he didn’t do something, Bradley would slip right through his fingers.

So he kissed his neck again, let his hands trail along his arms, hoping for something—anything—to reassure him that last night hadn’t changed everything.

Bradley sighed.

“You okay?” Max asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bradley nodded. But it wasn’t real. Max could feel it.

Max clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to push.

Then, after a long pause, Bradley finally set his fork down. “You’re being weird.”

Max stiffened. “Weird how?”

Bradley turned to look at him, his eyes sharp in a way that made Max’s stomach twist. “Like you’re scared or something.”

Max opened his mouth, then shut it.

Because—yeah.

Of course he was scared. Of course he was fucking terrified that last night had changed something between them. That Bradley was still angry, still thinking about it, still wondering if this—them—was worth all the bullshit that came with it.

Bradley sighed and pulled Max’s hand off his shoulder, turning fully to face him. “Sit down.”

Max hesitated.

He didn’t want to sit down. Didn’t want to have this conversation. Because if they talked about it, then that meant last night really happened, that it wasn’t just some fucked-up dream he could pretend didn’t exist.

But Bradley was waiting.

So Max swallowed hard and slid onto the stool beside him, his knee brushing against Bradley’s.

The silence stretched.

Max hated it.

Bradley sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Max… I know you feel bad about last night.”

Max flinched before he could stop himself.

Bradley reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “And I know you’re trying to make up for it, but… You don’t have to do all this. You don’t have to, like, cling to me just because we had one bad fight.”

Max’s stomach twisted. “It wasn’t just a bad fight, Bradley.”

Bradley swallowed hard. “I know.”

Max curled his fingers tighter around Bradley’s, gripping it like a fucking lifeline. “I just—I don’t want you to think I don’t love you. That I don’t want you." His voice cracked, his breath shaky. “I can’t lose you.”

Bradley let out a slow breath, his gaze softening. Then, after a pause, he pulled Max’s hand forward until their foreheads touched.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” Bradley muttered. “But you can’t do this every time we fight, okay?”

Max’s pulse was pounding. “I don’t know how else to make it up to you.”

Bradley let out a breathy chuckle. “I know you don’t.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Max’s face. “But maybe we just… sit in it for a little bit instead of pretending everything’s fine.”

Max hated that answer.

He wanted to fix it. He wanted to kiss Bradley until all the tension melted away. He wanted to hold him so tight that last night disappeared.

But Bradley was right.

So Max exhaled slowly, forcing himself to nod. “…Okay.”

Bradley blinked, clearly expecting a fight. “Wait—okay?”

Max sighed. “I don’t like it, but… yeah. Okay. I trust you.”

Bradley stared at him for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. “Wow. Personal growth.”

“Shut up,” Max muttered, rolling his eyes.

Bradley grinned and leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Max’s lips. “Thank you.”

Max grumbled under his breath but let Bradley kiss him again anyway, and just like that, the tension between them lifted.

The rest of the morning moved fast. Bradley had classes back-to-back, leaving Max alone in the apartment for a few hours. He considered skipping his own classes just to wait for him but ultimately decided against it—he needed to do something to distract himself.

By noon, Max was rushing across campus, barely making it to his lecture before the professor started. His mind wandered throughout the lesson, but he managed to take notes, respond when called on, and not spend the entire time staring at his phone waiting for a text from Bradley.

Meanwhile, Bradley was swamped. Between his project meeting, a mountain of assignments, and an unexpected tutoring session, he barely had time to think. Still, between everything, he found himself checking his phone more than he’d like to admit.

Max: Don’t forget to eat, nerd.

Bradley: You’re one to talk.

Max: Hey, I made you breakfast. That’s gotta count for something.

Bradley: Fair enough. See you later.

The hours passed in a blur. By the time they both made it back to the apartment, the sun was already starting to set. Bradley tossed his bag on the couch and collapsed next to it with a groan.

Max snorted. “Rough day?”

Bradley peeked up at him through tired eyes. “I think my brain is melting.”

Max plopped down beside him, tugging Bradley closer until his head rested against his shoulder. “I could tell you I’m proud of you, but I know you’ll just be an ass about it.”

Bradley smirked. “Correct.”

Max chuckled, pressing a kiss to Bradley’s temple. “Still proud of you, though.”

Bradley hummed, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t get all soft on me now.”

“No promises.”

"Now I have to do the thesis."

Max squeezed Bradley's shoulder. "You've got this. I'll be here to help if you need it."

The apartment was quiet except for the faint sound of Bradley typing away at his thesis. Max sat on the couch across from him, watching the way Bradley’s brow furrowed in concentration. The tension from the night before still lingered in the air, and Max couldn’t stop thinking about it. The weight of his actions and the hurt he saw in Bradley’s eyes—it wasn’t something that could just be erased with a quick apology.

Max sighed quietly, guilt twisting in his chest. He knew he’d fucked up. He wasn’t perfect, far from it, and Bradley deserved better than how Max had acted. But the more he thought about it, the more he just wanted to hold Bradley, remind him how much he meant to him, and how sorry he was for everything.

He stood up slowly, crossing the room and moving behind Bradley without a word. His hands hovered for a second before he wrapped his arms around Bradley’s shoulders, pulling him into a soft embrace. Bradley froze for a moment, his fingers halting on the keys, but he didn’t push Max away.

Max buried his face in the side of Bradley’s neck, inhaling his scent, letting the moment ground him. “I’m sorry,” Max murmured, his voice quiet. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have pushed you, shouldn’t have let it all spiral out of control.”

Bradley stayed still for a moment, his shoulders tense under Max’s touch. But then he let out a breath.

His hands were still on the keyboard, but they'd stopped typing. Max knew he wasn't ignoring him; he was processing. Max couldn't rush him, no matter how much he wanted to.

Max kissed the side of his neck, his lips lingering against the skin. He wasn't trying to be too much, just enough to show him that Max was there, that he wasn't going anywhere.

"I love you, okay?" Max whispered, his voice shaking a little, more vulnerable than he liked. "I'm sorry for how I acted last night."

Bradley let out a long breath, his head resting back against Max's shoulder. Max could feel him giving him a bit of space but still letting him hold Bradley. The tension in his body slowly ebbed away. He was calm now, at least, but Max knew there was still a lot he wasn't saying.

"I know you do," he murmured, his fingers lightly brushing over Max's where they rested on his forearms.

"I just... need you to understand, too."

“I’ll do better,” Max promised, his hands rubbing gently over Bradley’s chest. “I just—I need you to know how much you mean to me. How much I need you.”

"You don’t have to apologize anymore, Max. I understand.”

Max kissed his neck again, a little more lingering this time, then pulled back just enough to look Bradley in the eyes. He smiled softly, trying to lighten the mood just a bit. “I think you’re still a nerd, though.”

Bradley immediately rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face was enough to make Max's stomach flip. He spun in his arms, facing him.

"A nerd?" He raised an eyebrow. "Says the guy who's practically glued to me like a puppy. If I'm a nerd, what does that make you?"

Max gave him a playful, exaggerated shrug. "Well, I'm your nerd, obviously."

Bradley's smirk grew even wider, and without missing a beat, he shot back, "Yeah? Well, I guess that makes me the one who can't get enough of his nerd, huh?"

Max laughed, genuinely this time, the tension between them finally starting to lift. Max leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Touché, nerd."

Bradley leaned into the kiss, and when Max pulled back, he was smiling, soft and easy.

"Glad we got that straightened out." His eyes twinkled. "Now, how about you let me finish this thesis, and we'll go back to being a couple of nerds together?"

Max squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face into Bradley’s neck, trying to hold onto this moment. He thought about the morning a few weeks ago when Bradley had stolen his hoodie and worn it all day just to piss him off, smirking as he claimed it was ‘his now.’ Max had chased him around the apartment, laughing, tackling him onto the couch, kissing him until Bradley stopped fighting back. It had been easy then. So easy.

Now, everything felt fragile, like he had to be careful not to push too hard or hold on too tight.

Max smiled, his heart swelling with affection. “Deal,” he said, his tone light but sincere.

Bradley turned back to his thesis, typing away, completely in his own world again. Max watched him for a few seconds, his stomach twisting just a little. Things felt okay now. Normal, even. But Max knew himself too well. He knew the way his mind worked, the way doubt crept in when he was alone.

What if next time, Bradley didn’t forgive him so easily?

He forced himself to shake the thought away. Right now, Bradley was here. That was enough.

At least, it had to be.

Chapter Text

Time goes by; Thanksgiving is a time for reflection and gratitude. It is a time to appreciate the blessings in our lives and show appreciation to those around us.

The kitchen was filled with the warmth of Sylvia’s soft laughter as she and Goofy prepped the food together, a simple, natural rhythm between them. Max found himself watching them for a moment, feeling that comfortable, steady love that ran between them. It was the kind of love he had always known—soft, constant, the kind that filled up rooms without saying a word.

“Bradley,” Sylvia said warmly, “it’s good to finally meet you in person. Max talks about you all the time, you know."

Bradley blinked, surprised. “He does?"

Goofy chuckled as he served himself a large helping of mashed potatoes. “You kidding? Every time we’re on the phone, I can’t get Max to shut up about ya. It’s ‘Bradley this,’ ‘Bradley that.’” He gave Bradley a playful wink. “Feels like I already know ya.”

Max’s face went pink. "Dad!"

Sylvia laughed softly, shaking her head. “He’s not wrong, Max."

Bradley turned to Max, who looked like he was trying to sink into his chair, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. The tension Bradley had carried into the house earlier seemed to fade a little more, replaced by something lighter—something safe.

“Well,” Bradley said, looking back at Goofy, “I’m glad to finally meet you too."

Goofy’s eyes softened. “I’m glad you’re here, Bradley. Really."

Max, still embarrassed but clearly happy, reached for Bradley’s hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. Bradley squeezed back.

But then his gaze shifted to Bradley, his hands awkwardly folded in his lap. He had that distant look again, like he wasn’t fully present, his eyes scanning the room like he was looking for a way out, even if he didn’t know it.

Max’s chest tightened. He knew Bradley wasn’t used to this—Bradley was used to cold, distant family gatherings, the ones where no one looked at each other for too long, where everything was done by the book, with no room for real warmth.

This was different. This was Max’s family. His small, warm family that didn’t hold back with their love, their easy laughter, and their constant chatter. It was so…normal, in a way. Nothing like the polished, picture-perfect gatherings Bradley must have been used to.

Max’s heart squeezed. Max had always taken the small, loving chaos of his family for granted.

Max caught Bradley’s eye for a second, offering a small smile, trying to reassure him. He could see it—the tension in Bradley’s shoulders, the way his eyes quickly darted away, as if he didn’t know how to fit in.

“Hey,” Max said quietly, walking over to him, his voice soft, but just loud enough to be heard over the gentle hum of the house. “You okay?”

Bradley gave him a small, strained smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just… different.”

“You’re doing great,” Max murmured, his thumb tracing the back of Bradley’s hand gently. “They already love you. Just like I do.”

There was a long pause before Bradley spoke again, this time his voice quieter, almost uncertain. “But what if… what if I mess this up?”

Max shook his head gently, his eyes catching Bradley’s. “You won’t mess anything up. They’ll love you because you’re you. And that’s exactly who I love.”

Bradley’s lips curled up slightly, and this time, it wasn’t strained. It wasn’t forced. It was… real. Max couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride, like he was helping Bradley find a small, safe space here in this house that had always felt like home to him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Max added quietly. “Really glad.”

Goofy took his seat across from them, his grin never wavering. “Ready to eat, kids?”

Bradley nodded, his smile growing as he reached for the plate Goofy had set in front of him. “Yeah, this looks amazing.”

Max watched the interaction closely, his gaze never leaving Bradley’s face. The warmth of the home, the laughter, and the chatter around the table seemed to have made Bradley feel more at ease. Max was grateful for it—grateful that, despite the tension that had followed them through the day, Bradley had started to settle in.

Sylvia, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward just slightly, catching Bradley’s attention with a soft smile. “It’s always nice to see someone enjoy a meal. You know, Goofy’s turkey is legendary in this house. He’s been perfecting it for years.”

Bradley chuckled, a lightness in his tone that had been missing earlier. “I can tell. It’s definitely the best I’ve had.”

Max could see how effortlessly Sylvia fit into the conversation, how her presence made everything feel even more welcoming. She wasn’t overbearing, but the way she spoke made everyone feel like they mattered, like their voices were valued.

As they all began eating, Max felt a sense of quiet pride in the way things were unfolding. He had always wanted Bradley to see the kind of family he had, to feel the love and acceptance that Max had grown up with. It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough. And if Bradley could see that, if he could let down his guard just a little bit more, maybe they could build something even stronger together.

Max smiled to himself, his hand resting on the table near Bradley’s.

As the room filled with the comforting sounds of silverware clinking against plates, soft conversation, and occasional bursts of laughter. Bradley found himself loosening up with every bite of Goofy’s perfectly cooked turkey and Sylvia’s buttery mashed potatoes.

Max noticed how Bradley’s shoulders had relaxed and the way his eyes finally started to settle, no longer darting around as if expecting something to go wrong. His boyfriend looked a little more grounded now, a little more like himself.

“So, Bradley,” Goofy said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Max tells me you’re into business. Running the show and all that, right?"

Bradley nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Yeah. My family kind of pushed me into it, but I actually enjoy it now. There’s a strategy to it that keeps me… focused."

Goofy’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. “Focused, huh? You must be pretty good at it, then. Max said you’re always a few steps ahead."

Max shot Bradley a proud look. “He’s the best at what he does. I’m just trying to keep up."

Bradley flushed slightly at the compliment but didn’t protest. There was a quiet satisfaction in the way Max spoke about him—like he wasn’t just bragging, but genuinely proud.

“Well,” Sylvia chimed in, “if you ever want to talk business or strategy, Goofy’s your guy. You’d be surprised how much that old goof knows.” She shot Goofy a teasing look.

“Hey, I like to stay sharp!” Goofy defended, laughing. “But don’t worry, Bradley. No business talk tonight. Tonight’s just for eating good food and spending time together."

Bradley smiled, the warmth of the conversation sinking in. “Sounds like a pretty good plan.”

As the meal wound down, dessert was brought out—a homemade pumpkin pie with a flaky crust that filled the kitchen with the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg. Sylvia sliced generous pieces for everyone, setting a dollop of whipped cream on top of each.

Max took his plate eagerly, but not without knocking over a half-empty glass of water in the process.

“Oops,” he muttered, grabbing a napkin to clean up the mess.

Goofy, ever the helpful spirit, jumped up from his seat. “I got you, Max!” he said with a grin, moving over to help but in his rush, Goofy knocked his own glass over, sending a splash of soda across the table.

“Ah, come on!” Goofy laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender as he tried to salvage the mess.

Max couldn’t help but smile, the embarrassment lifting a little at Goofy’s own stumble.

Bradley reached over, gently taking the napkin from Max’s hand and helping him clean up the spill. Their hands brushed briefly, and Max felt the familiar warmth that always accompanied Bradley’s touch.

“You’re lucky I’m used to you,” Bradley teased.

“I’m lucky for a lot of reasons,” Max replied, his tone softer.

Sylvia, watching the small exchange with a smile, took another bite of her pie. “You two make a good team."

Bradley looked at Max, his eyes holding something deeper—something that hadn’t been there at the start of the night. Maybe it was acceptance. Maybe it was hope.

“Yeah,” Bradley said quietly. “I think we do.”

Max’s cheeks were already tinged pink when Goofy told another childhood story, this one about Max’s “infamous” third-grade dance recital. Goofy’s voice was full of pride as he animatedly described how Max had been too shy to perform—until the music started, and he busted out dance moves that would make a seasoned breakdancer jealous.

“And then he did this little spin, landed flat on his butt!” Goofy chuckled, clapping his hands at the memory. “But instead of cryin’, he just popped right back up like it was part of the show!" Goof laughed out his famous laugh, AY-hUck!

Bradley snorted into his drink, clearly struggling to hold back a full laugh. Max, on the other hand, could feel the heat climbing up his neck, spreading fast to his ears. He buried his face in his hands. “Dad, why? You’re killing me."

Goofy just gave him a good-natured pat on the back. “You know I tell that story ‘cause I’m proud of you, Maxie."

Bradley leaned in, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Maxie, huh?” he teased, his grin wide. “I didn’t know I was dating a dance prodigy. How come you never showed me these moves?"

Max’s blush deepened. He dropped his hands just enough to shoot Bradley a half-hearted glare. “Don’t start."

“Oh, I’m starting.” Bradley smirked, clearly enjoying the rare sight of Max being so flustered. “You mean to tell me all this time, you’ve been holding out on me? What else are you hiding? A tap-dance routine? Some secret hip-hop skills?"

Sylvia tried to stifle a giggle, but Max heard it. “You’re all in on this, huh?” he muttered, but there was no real irritation in his voice—just that familiar, helpless warmth that came from being loved so openly.

Bradley wasn’t done, though. He leaned closer, his hand brushing lightly against Max’s knee under the table. “Maybe you’ll have to show me later, Maxie. We could put on some music after dinner. You know, just for research."

Max groaned. "Brad."

But the teasing glint in Bradley’s eyes softened as he leaned back, giving Max a look that was almost too tender. “Hey. You’re cute when you’re embarrassed."

Max’s heart stuttered, and despite himself, a shy smile tugged at his lips. “You’re a menace."

“Yeah,” Bradley said, grinning again. “But I’m your menace."

And just like that, Max’s blush reached critical levels, leaving him red from head to toe. Goofy, watching the whole exchange, couldn’t stop laughing. “I like this kid, Max,” he said to his son.

Max sighed, but even he couldn’t fight the grin that took over. “Yeah. Me too.”

Goofy, with a knowing glance, made his way over to Bradley.

“Come on, kiddo,” Goofy said, his voice warm and gruff. “I think it’s time you see the real Max.” He winked, giving Bradley a gentle nudge toward the hallway. “Come with me.”

Bradley hesitated, clearly surprised by the invitation. He glanced at Max for a moment, as if unsure whether to stay or follow. Max gave him a small, encouraging nod, his lips curling up just a little.

“Go ahead, Brad,” Max said softly, his voice an assurance. “You’ll be fine.”

Bradley’s expression softened slightly, but he didn’t say anything as he followed Goofy down the hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath their feet. Max watched them for a moment, his heart swelling with something he couldn’t quite name—pride, maybe, but also an odd sense of gratitude that Bradley was starting to feel at ease in a place that felt like home to Max.

Goofy opened a door, leading Bradley into a small room filled with shelves of books, old trophies, and random knick-knacks. A desk sat against one wall, and on a wooden table near the window, there was a thick, leather-bound photo album.

Bradley’s gaze flickered over everything, eyes wide as he took in the sight, unsure of what to make of the cozy space. He was a little out of his element, but Goofy didn’t seem to notice.

“Here,” Goofy said, grinning and tapping the album. “This is Max’s baby book—well, not really a baby book, but close enough. You’re gonna get the full story here. Trust me.”

Bradley just stood there, blinking at the album, still clearly processing everything.

Goofy chuckled softly, pulling the album open to the first page. “This is Max when he was, oh, about three. He was a hell of a kid. Full of energy. A bit of a troublemaker, too. See that mess he made with his hair? That was the start of a long and complicated relationship with his hair products.”

Bradley couldn’t help but smile a little at Goofy’s teasing tone, even if the words didn’t quite connect. He leaned in closer, his eyes scanning the pictures. Max, in all his messy-haired glory, was grinning widely in every photo—grinning through scraped knees, mischievous glints in his eyes, his arm around a stuffed animal, or his hand in a bowl of cookie dough.

But as Goofy flipped the page of the album, a photo caught Bradley’s eye—a woman with soft, dark red hair and a gentle smile. She was standing next to a younger Max, her arm around his shoulders, both of them beaming in front of a family Christmas tree.

Bradley’s breath hitched as his gaze lingered on the picture.

“Who’s this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Goofy paused, his expression changing slightly, like he was bracing himself for something. He glanced at the photo before answering, his voice softer now.

“That’s Max’s mom,” he said quietly, the words heavy. “Her name was… Eveline.”

Bradley felt a lump form in his throat. He didn’t know why it hit him so hard. Maybe it was the way Goofy’s tone shifted, or how Max’s face in the picture looked so full of love and innocence. It felt like an unspoken story, a piece of Max’s past that Bradley had never fully understood.

“Is she…?” Bradley started, but the question hung in the air, unspoken.

Goofy let out a slow sigh, his gaze turning distant as if lost in memories. “Yeah. She left when Max was young. It wasn’t easy for him. For a long time, he thought it was his fault, that he wasn’t enough for her to stay.” Goofy’s voice trembled slightly, but he quickly recovered, swallowing the emotion that threatened to surface.

Bradley’s heart sank, his stomach twisting as the weight of Goofy’s words settled over him. He’d always known there was something about Max’s past—something that made him so fiercely protective, so desperate for love and stability—but hearing it so plainly felt like a punch to the gut.

“I had no idea,” Bradley muttered, his eyes glued to the picture of Max and his mom. He reached out, his finger brushing over the edges of the photograph. “She… she looks happy with him. Max looks so different. Like he’s whole.”

Goofy’s eyes softened, the fondness and sadness in them mixing in a way that made Bradley feel like an intruder in the moment. “He was, at least for a while. Before she left.”

There was a long silence between them, the weight of the unspoken truth hanging thick in the air. Bradley wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say.

Instead, he just nodded, his throat tight with the emotion he couldn’t quite express. Max’s mom. She was a ghost in his life, a shadow that had been hanging over him for so long. Bradley didn’t know what it felt like to have a mother leave, but he could see the scars it had left on Max, even if he’d never said it out loud.

As Goofy flipped the pages, Bradley’s eyes caught sight of another photo—Max, still a young boy, grinning widely in a family park. He was sitting on a swing, with his father pushing him from behind, his face lit up with the kind of joy only a kid could know. The picture radiated warmth, love, and comfort.

Bradley could almost hear Goofy’s voice, even without him speaking.

“That was right after we moved here. He wanted to take a picture on the swings ‘cause he said it made him feel free… like he could go anywhere.” Goofy chuckled softly, brushing the thought away as if it were a fleeting moment.

Bradley looked at the picture again. There was no sign of Max’s mom in this one, but the closeness between father and son was so apparent that it made Bradley’s chest tighten. It was a bond he could never quite have with his own parents.

“I know he doesn’t show it much,” Goofy continued, “but he’s a good kid. Always has been.” He sighed and turned another page. “That was a tough year for him, you know? We didn’t have much, but we made do. I think he liked it better that way.”

Bradley’s eyes stayed on the photo for a beat longer, the soft corners of his lips tugging upward as he shifted his attention to the next page. Max, slightly older now, his teenage years creeping into the image. It was one of those school photos, the kind that everyone dreaded taking, but Max had a smile on his face, arms crossed in his usual stance. He looked older—hardened, but still with that smile that felt almost too perfect. The new lip piercings he had recently gotten were visible now, adding a touch of rebellion to his otherwise innocent expression.

Bradley felt a quiet ache in his chest, unsure why. There was something about this picture that didn’t sit right with him.

“Max was a little… different in middle school,” Goofy said as he flipped the page, like he knew Bradley was trying to understand the subtle shift in his son. “He had a lot on his mind back then. His mom leaving, it all kind of hit him harder than he ever let on.”

Bradley looked closer at the picture. Max’s eyes seemed distant, a quiet emptiness behind the smile. It wasn’t a sadness that was easy to pinpoint, but it was there. Something in the way his shoulders hunched, or the way his eyes didn’t quite meet the camera lens. There was an ache Bradley couldn’t name.

He could almost hear Max in that moment—his laughter, the way he often brushed off serious things like they didn’t matter. But Bradley saw it now—there was a darkness in him that Max never let anyone touch. Not even himself.

Goofy moved to the next page, clearly unaware of the way Bradley’s heart had tightened. “He didn’t talk much about his mom after that. But I could see it. I could see how the hole she left in him didn’t ever quite go away.”

Bradley swallowed thickly, his fingers lightly grazing the photo as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

In the next picture, Max was a little older, maybe sixteen or seventeen. His face still held that awkwardness of adolescence, but the same smile was there, brighter now—probably from a weekend spent with friends. Yet, Bradley noticed the same thing in his eyes. The smile never quite reached them, like the weight he carried was too much to be hidden by the surface.

It was there, that emptiness. That part of Max that no one ever spoke about—the thing that had made him, and would continue to make him, a little bit of a puzzle for anyone who tried to get close.

Bradley’s heart ached as he stared at the next photo—a group shot, Max standing with some friends. Max’s posture was stiff, even in a crowd of people. And again, that smile was there, but his eyes—Bradley could see it now—there was something behind them that made him seem so far away, even though he was right there, surrounded by people who cared about him.

Bradley looked at Goofy. His gaze was distant, lost in memories, like he was reliving a past that had no place in the present.

Goofy’s finger landed on the next page, and Bradley’s eyes were immediately drawn to a picture of a teenage Max standing on a football field, his arm draped around a friend. He was smiling wider now, older, stronger, but the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable.

“That was Max’s senior year,” Goofy said, his voice a little hushed. “He made it through the roughest parts of high school, got into a lot of trouble, but that was when he started to find his footing again. It wasn’t perfect, but he made it through.”

Bradley’s hand traced over Max’s image, his eyes lingering on the softness in Max’s gaze that was still there despite everything.

Showing a picture of Max at a high school graduation, the grin still present but more grown-up, more guarded. “This one,” Goofy said, his voice dropping a little, “was one of the proudest moments. He worked his ass off for that diploma. I’m damn proud of him.”

Bradley felt the weight of Goofy’s words, his own chest tightening. He didn’t know the full story behind Max’s high school years, but something told him that this moment—this picture—meant more to Goofy than just a piece of paper.

“He looks like he’s okay here,” Bradley murmured, unsure if he was speaking to Goofy or to himself.

Goofy chuckled softly, but it was laced with a trace of sadness. “He was. In his own way. He always tried to be okay for me, for everyone. But I think he’s only just starting to really be okay now.” He paused, meeting Bradley’s gaze with a quiet intensity. “And that’s where you come in.”

Bradley swallowed hard, trying to process everything he was seeing, everything he was hearing. He didn’t know what to say. All he could think was that he wanted to help Max, to be the person who stood by him when things weren’t easy, to be the one to help him heal.

Goofy seemed to sense the shift in Bradley’s emotions and placed the album gently down, giving him a sympathetic look. “Bradley, you don’t need to fix anything. Max just needs someone to be there. Someone who gets it. And you’re doing that better than anyone else could.”

But he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to carry that weight, to carry Max’s history with him.

As Bradley looked down at the photo, he realized something he hadn’t fully grasped before: Max had always been hiding. Hiding a part of himself that wasn’t easy to show. It wasn’t just about his mom leaving; it was everything else that followed. All the things that made Max try so hard to prove that he was fine when he wasn’t.

Bradley’s finger traced the edge of the photo, and for the first time, he could see Max clearly. Not just the smiling boy, not just the golden retriever who was always eager to give his heart away, but the boy who’d been hurt so deeply, he’d never let anyone close enough to see the real damage. Not until now.

“Thank you,” Bradley whispered, his voice barely audible.

Goofy turned to look at him, his eyes soft and full of understanding. “You’re family, Bradley. You always will be.”

Bradley nodded quietly, feeling a new sense of connection with Goofy—like maybe this strange little family could be his, too.

"C'mon kiddo, lets see what Sylvia and Max are up to."

Goofy put away the book and then led Bradley towards the kitchen, where a warm meal was waiting for them both.

Max’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Bradley and Goofy descending the stairs together. They had spent a few moments upstairs alone, and Max hadn’t missed the way Bradley’s face had softened as he talked to Goofy. There was something about the way Bradley seemed to have found a new level of ease in Goofy’s presence that made Max’s chest swell with pride.

Bradley had always been guarded, but Goofy’s natural warmth was something Bradley seemed to respond to, and Max could tell he appreciated it. Goofy had that effect on people—he could make anyone feel like they belonged, like they were family. It made Max feel lucky to have him as a father, and now, he was beginning to see Bradley come around to it too.

Max was about to speak when Sylvia, who had been quietly setting the table, looked up and smiled. She was already seated, ready to join them. “Well, look at you two,” she said warmly, her eyes sparkling with genuine affection. “I hope the conversation upstairs wasn’t too intense.”

Bradley chuckled softly, a bit sheepish but still smiling. “It was… nice. Goofy’s pretty easy to talk to.”

Sylvia nodded, her voice gentle. “He has that effect on people.” She glanced over at Max, her smile still intact. “I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable, Bradley.”

Max’s chest tightened at the soft way Sylvia said his name, at the way she had become an integral part of the family’s rhythm. It was easy to see how much she cared, how her presence added a certain calm to the house that helped smooth over the moments of tension. Even without trying, she was a grounding force, a reminder of the simple love that filled this place.

Max flashed a grin as Bradley and Goofy reached the table. He stood up to pull out Bradley’s chair, a subtle but affectionate gesture that made Bradley chuckle softly.

“Thanks,” Bradley muttered, sitting down. His eyes met Max’s for a moment, and Max could see the shift in him—the way his shoulders had relaxed and his gaze was softer, more open than it had been when they first arrived. It was a relief.

Chapter Text

Christmas was nearly here, and Max and Bradley’s relationship had improved—slightly. There had been ups and downs, but they were trying to communicate better and understand each other’s perspectives… kinda.

Max guessed.

They tried.

Max wandered through the crowded mall, fingers grazing over the tags of various items without truly registering them. He’d been at it for hours, pacing from store to store, scanning watches, clothes, and books—anything that might make a meaningful gift for Bradley. But nothing felt quite right.

He stopped in front of a sleek, expensive-looking watch, the kind that Bradley probably already had at least five of. Max snorted under his breath, feeling a pang of failure claw at his chest. He glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the polished storefronts and the couples walking hand in hand, laughing as they picked out presents for each other. Max’s stomach twisted. He couldn’t afford any of this. Not like Bradley could.

Bradley was wealthy. He had money. He had everything, and Max… Max had nothing to contribute. He hated it. He hated how Bradley paid for everything—hell, how Bradley had even taken on all the rent for their apartment. It made Max feel small, like a burden. Like a fucking charity case.

But he didn’t want to be that. He didn’t want to feel like he owed Bradley anything. He wanted to give him something that would make Bradley feel how much he meant to him—something that wasn’t just a cheap trinket. Something that mattered.

Max dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. He needed to find something. But everything felt out of his reach.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Max pulled it out, hoping it was Bradley, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe to offer him a distraction from this sinking feeling in his stomach. But it wasn’t Bradley.

It was Selena; she was letting Max know that she just arrived at the mall.

Max couldn’t remember the last time Selena had asked him to do something. She and Bradley had their own lives, and he and PJ had their own, but today was different. Today, Selena had asked him—out of nowhere, really—to go Christmas shopping with her. She needed a gift for PJ. He needed one for Bradley. Max wasn’t sure if it was an attempt at bonding or if she was just being kind, but either way, he couldn’t back out.

They were at a large shopping center, the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers filling the air. Max’s feet dragged as he followed Selena through the crowds, his eyes scanning the stores but not really focusing.

“Okay, I’m thinking PJ would love something a little… edgy this year,” Selena mused, her eyes scanning the shelves. “He’s into that grunge vibe lately.”

Max nodded absently, his eyes drifting over the store. The truth was, he wasn’t thinking about PJ’s gift at all. He was thinking about Bradley. What would Bradley like? What could he give him?

Bradley had everything. Max had saved up, scraped together a little extra cash here and there, but compared to what Bradley was used to, it seemed almost trivial.

But he wasn’t going to let it show. Not here. Not in front of Selena.

“Max?” Selena’s voice cut through his thoughts. She was holding up a sweater in front of herself, studying it. “What do you think?”

Max blinked, forcing his attention back to the present. “It’s great. PJ will love it,” he said, his voice steady, though his mind was a million miles away.

Selena smiled at him, clearly in her element, looking through various items with a casual ease. “So, what are you thinking for Bradley? Any ideas yet?”

Max paused, his stomach tightening. He hadn’t told anyone—hell, he hadn’t even admitted to himself how much this was bothering him. He had been saving up for months, but he still felt like anything he could afford was too little. Bradley was used to expensive things. Max could barely keep up.

He cleared his throat, trying to hide the tension. “I’m not sure. I want it to be something meaningful, but it’s hard when he already has everything.”

Selena didn’t push him. She simply nodded and moved on, browsing the shelves with the ease of someone who had never been burdened by financial worry. Max tried to focus on the displays, but his eyes kept drifting back to her. She was so sure of herself, so confident in her choices. And here he was, fumbling, second-guessing everything.

Bradley doesn’t need a luxury item, Max told himself. He’s not like that. But the nagging feeling in the back of his mind wouldn’t go away. Bradley deserved something more than what Max could offer. Something that said I’m here. I’m enough. I’m not just taking from you.

“I’m thinking something for PJ’s studio,” Selena said, shifting her gaze to Max. “Maybe a new set of sketchbooks or something. He’s always running through them.”

Max nodded absently, then his gaze landed on a sleek leather wallet in one of the stores they passed. It was simple, understated. Practical, even. Something Bradley could use every day. Max’s fingers itched at the thought of it. Maybe it wasn’t extravagant, but it felt… right. Bradley could carry it with him. A little piece of Max, even when they weren’t together.

“Found something?” Selena’s voice brought him out of his thoughts.

Max nodded. “Yeah. I think I did.”

Selena gave him a small, approving smile before moving on to the next store. Max’s chest loosened slightly, though it still felt like there was something stuck there, an unease he couldn’t quite shake. But he couldn’t keep dwelling on it—not today. He would find a way to make it work. He would make sure Bradley knew he was enough, even if it didn’t feel that way right now.

After Max found the wallet, he and Selena continued browsing, though the atmosphere felt different now. Max’s steps were slower, more deliberate. He kept glancing at the wallet, the idea of Bradley using it stirring something inside him—something protective and possessive.

His grip on his wallet tightened. Would the wallet be enough? Would it show Bradley that he could give him something, something tangible, when he often felt like he couldn’t give him anything else?

This was what Christmas shopping was supposed to be: thoughtful, deliberate. He could do this.

By the time they left the mall, Max had made up his mind. The wallet would be a simple but meaningful gift. He wouldn’t overthink it. Bradley didn’t need lavishness.

He just needed Max—and maybe that was enough after all.

The soft glow of the Christmas lights flickered around them, and Max’s heart thudded a little faster as he reached for the small gift wrapped in red paper, nervously smoothing the edges as he handed it to Bradley. His fingers were trembling slightly, and he quickly stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep them still.

“Here,” Max said, voice more tentative than he meant it to be. “I, uh, got you something.”

Bradley smiled warmly, his usual playful grin softened by something more affectionate. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, the kindness in his voice making Max feel a little less nervous. But Max couldn’t help himself—he’d been thinking about this for days. Even if he didn’t have much to give, it had to be something Bradley would appreciate.

Bradley unwrapped the gift slowly, revealing a sleek, dark leather wallet. It was simple but elegant, with just enough space for cards, cash, and a couple of personal touches. Max had chosen it carefully, wanting it to be something practical yet meaningful.

Max tried to hide the discomfort that stirred in his chest. It’s not much, he thought. Not like what he’s used to. Bradley came from money, had expensive tastes, and Max, well, wasn’t exactly flush with cash. But this wallet—it wasn’t about the price tag. It was about showing Bradley that, even if Max couldn’t spoil him the way Bradley did for him, he still cared. And Max wanted Bradley to know that.

Bradley’s eyes softened as he looked up at him, and for a moment, Max felt exposed under that gaze. “Max… this is perfect,” Bradley said, his voice low and sincere. He ran his fingers over the smooth leather, and Max couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. Bradley didn’t care about the price tag—he cared about the thought behind it.

Max’s smile was small but genuine, a wave of warmth flowing through him. “I’m glad you like it,” he said, his voice still a little shy but filled with affection. He felt like his chest might burst from the way Bradley was looking at him, like he was the most important person in the world.

Bradley grinned, leaning forward and giving Max a quick, soft kiss on the lips. “I love it."

Max sat cross-legged on the couch, the Christmas lights twinkling softly around them as Bradley excitedly passed him another gift. Max couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable. He’d already seen the amount of money Bradley had spent on him over the past year, and it made Max feel… well, not enough. Not in the way that Bradley deserved. But he pushed those thoughts down because it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t let it show.

Bradley’s face lit up with that familiar smile, that soft expression he always wore when he was excited about something he’d done for Max. “You’re gonna love this one,” he said, his voice full of warmth. Max could feel his heart beating a little faster. Bradley always made him feel so special, but it also made Max feel like he was falling short.

Max carefully tore at the wrapping paper, trying to keep his smile in place. Inside, he found a designer jacket. It was beautiful and sleek, the kind of thing Max would never buy for himself, let alone afford. Bradley had a knack for picking things Max would love, but this… this was way beyond what Max could ever dream of.

Max’s smile faltered for just a second before he masked it, lifting the jacket up. “This is… amazing, Brad,” he said, voice steady, but his chest tightened with something unfamiliar. Why does he do this? Max thought, pushing the feeling away. He didn’t want Bradley to see any of the insecurity bubbling inside him.

Bradley’s eyes sparkled, clearly proud of his gift. “I knew you’d love it.” He reached over, brushing his fingers lightly against Max’s shoulder, and Max melted just a little at the touch. Bradley was always so attentive, so generous with his love. It was more than the things he bought—Max knew that. It felt like Bradley deserved someone who could give him the same.

But he pushed those thoughts away.

This is what we are. We’re a team. We love each other. And Bradley loved spoiling him, even if Max didn’t always understand why. So, he smiled, his lips curving up just a little more than they had before.

“You’re always so thoughtful,” Max said, trying to make his voice sound casual, even though his mind was racing. “I’ll definitely wear this. Thanks, babe.”

Bradley beamed at him, happy with Max’s response. But Max’s chest tightened, and his smile faltered just for a second.

His mind kept racing. I can’t keep doing this. He’s so much… He’s so much more than me.

Bradley had a life full of luxury, and here Max was... Well yeah. He pushed the thought away, shoving it down where it couldn’t escape. He couldn’t let Bradley see how inferior he sometimes felt. He wouldn’t.

Max shifted on the couch, trying to sound casual, but his voice still came out with a slight tightness. “You’ve always been so good to me. And I know I can’t keep up with… everything.”

Bradley blinked, his smile softening as he leaned in, eyes full of affection. “Max,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, “don’t ever think that. I don’t need anything from you. I just want you.” He took Max’s hand in his, squeezing it gently, and Max could feel the warmth of Bradley’s sincerity.

“You really mean that?” Max asked, his voice soft, just a little unsure, despite the smile he tried to keep on his face.

Bradley nodded, looking at him with nothing but warmth and honesty. “Of course. A wallet from you is more than enough. It’s perfect because it’s from you, Max. You’re everything I need. Max,” he began quietly, the words like a weight lifting off his chest. “I grew up getting everything I wanted. Anything I asked for, I got it. Gifts, things, whatever… But none of that ever made me feel whole.” He paused, his thumb gently brushing over Max’s knuckles. “None of it ever filled the hole inside of me the way you did. You’re the only thing that’s ever made me feel like I’m enough.”

Max’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to say at first, didn’t know how to respond.

Bradley continued, his voice low but filled with meaning. “I’ve had all the things I could ever ask for, but it was just stuff. It never meant anything until you came into my life. You’re the one that makes me feel whole. You’re the one who makes everything else feel meaningless.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Max murmured, his voice just above a whisper. “I… I never thought I’d be enough for someone like you.”

Bradley smiled softly, his thumb brushing over Max’s hand again. “Max, you are more than enough. You’re everything to me. You’ve always been enough, and you always will be.”

Max’s heart swelled, and despite the lingering insecurities, despite the doubts that had plagued him earlier, he let the words wash over him. Bradley wasn’t talking about the things, the money, or the gifts. He was talking about them. About their connection. And that was more than enough.

“I love you,” Max said, his voice trembling just slightly as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Bradley’s. “I really do.”

Bradley smiled, brushing his lips against Max’s softly. “I love you too, Max. You’re all I need.”

Max leaned back into the couch, his heart still pounding with the warmth of Bradley’s words. The quiet buzz of contentment hummed in his chest as he let himself fully absorb the weight of their conversation. It felt like a relief, a release from the pressure he had been carrying for so long. Bradley’s sincerity, his love—it was enough.

As the light from the Christmas tree flickered softly, casting a peaceful glow over the room, Max glanced toward the window. He saw it then—the first flakes of snow gently falling outside. The city lights illuminated them, tiny stars drifting in the dark.

Max stood up, his movements slow, as if he didn’t want to disturb the moment, the stillness of it all. He made his way to the patio door, slipping his shoes back on before stepping out onto the small balcony. The cold air kissed his face, and he could feel the crispness in the air. It was quiet out here, the city muffled by the snow that seemed to make everything softer. The flakes floated down in a gentle cascade, each one unique, yet part of something bigger, something beautiful.

Max stood there for a moment, watching the snow fall softly, feeling the quietness of the world settle around him. The cold air brushed against his skin, but it was refreshing, grounding. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, lost in the peacefulness of it all, but the sound of the balcony door sliding open behind him made him turn.

Bradley stepped outside, his figure wrapped in a thick, cozy blue blanket, and in his arms, he held another one—larger, softer, red, and clearly meant for Max.

“Figured you’d need this,” Bradley said with a playful smile, his breath puffing in the cold air as he draped the blanket over Max’s shoulders.

Max chuckled softly, warmth spreading through him despite the chill in the air. “You’re too good to me,” he said, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself. He leaned into Bradley’s embrace as he did, feeling the comforting weight of the soft fabric.

Bradley pulled Max closer, still wrapped in his own blanket, and together they stood there, watching the snow fall in silence. The city seemed to disappear in the quiet of the night, replaced by the steady rhythm of the falling snowflakes.

“Comfy?” Bradley murmured, his lips close to Max’s ear, his breath warm against his skin.

Max nodded, his head resting on Bradley’s shoulder, feeling a sense of peace he hadn’t realized he needed. “Yeah. Perfect.”

The two of them stood together on the balcony, wrapped in blankets, surrounded by the soft fall of snow. Max felt a contentment settle in him that he hadn’t known before, the world outside temporarily forgotten, replaced by the warmth of Bradley’s presence and the stillness of the night.

It was moments like this, simple and quiet, that made everything feel like it was exactly as it should be.

The snow was a reminder—everything could be still, and that was enough.

Max wants that.

Chapter Text

Bradley’s family hadn’t always been welcoming. In fact, they’d barely acknowledged his presence since his departure for college. His relationship with his parents was strained, to say the least.

His mother often sent polite but distant messages, while his father’s disapproval was practically a constant presence in his life. But when the holidays rolled around, there was a shift—a subtle, almost unexpected shift.

It began with a single, formal invitation that Bradley received in the mail. No personal note, no warmth, just the cold, meticulous wording of a letter sent by his father’s assistant. The letter was addressed to Bradley specifically, and its contents were unambiguous: Please join us for New Year’s Eve at the estate. Your mother insists on a family gathering this year. We expect your attendance.

Bradley wasn’t sure what to make of it. His father, who had once dismissed him for the smallest of infractions, was now extending an olive branch. It made no sense. He’d been avoiding them for months, putting off visits, and yet here they were, requesting his presence like it was no big deal. He could practically hear the unspoken expectations in the air, but something felt different this time. Maybe they wanted to keep up appearances for the holidays, or maybe they just missed him—though he doubted that.

When Bradley had brought it up to Max, it was a tense conversation. Max, always protective, was immediately on edge.

“New Year’s with your family?” Max had asked, the skepticism clear in his voice. “Are you sure about that?”

Bradley shrugged, tossing the letter on their kitchen table. “It’s a surprise, honestly. I don’t know what to make of it. But it could be… different this time. I mean, my mom’s the one who invited me, not my dad. Maybe she’s trying to fix things.”

Max’s gaze hardened, his jealousy already creeping up. “So, they’re just inviting you to fix whatever image they have of you? You don’t need to go, Brad.”

Bradley had hesitated, looking down at Max’s clenched hands. He was so used to this, this protectiveness, this need to control. Bradley loved him for it, but he also knew it wasn’t always healthy.

“I don’t know, Max,” Bradley said quietly. “It’s a chance to maybe mend things, you know? But I don’t want to go alone.”

Max had fallen silent at that, his mind working through the words, through the emotions swirling between them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Bradley to see his family—it was that Max hated the idea of Bradley going alone, of stepping into that cold, upper-crust world without him. Max knew what that world was like—filled with facades and superficial charm, all at the cost of any real warmth.

“You’re not going alone,” Max said suddenly, his voice firm. “I’m coming with you.”

Bradley had blinked, caught off guard by Max’s response. “What? Max, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Max had insisted, his face softening but determined. “I’m not letting you go there by yourself, not with those people. I’ll be there with you. It’s your family, but I’m not leaving you to face them alone.”

It wasn’t a fight, really. It was more of a gentle tug-of-war between wanting to protect each other. Bradley appreciated Max’s gesture, though it made him feel a little uneasy. His family had always been… complicated, to say the least. But the idea of Max by his side made the whole thing feel a bit more bearable.

Bradley had called his parents. The brief and strained conversation was filled with pleasantries, though his mother’s approval and his father’s reluctant confirmation left him feeling uneasy. Despite this, he was invited to join Max, knowing that this might not be entirely welcome.

Still, he was determined to face it, knowing that having Max there would make it feel less suffocating.

And so, just a few days later, they found themselves pulling into the long, winding driveway of the estate, with Max’s nerves wrapped tight around him like a cloak. It wasn’t just about being with Bradley’s family—it was about surviving the experience together.

When Bradley’s car pulled up to the Uppercrust estate, Max couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in his stomach. The house was massive, surrounded by pristine landscaping, and exuded wealth in every inch. It felt cold, distant—nothing like the cozy, welcoming home Max was used to.

His own house, with his dad, Goofy, was filled with warmth and genuine affection. But this? This felt like a museum where emotions were on display for the world to see but never actually experienced.

Bradley, however, seemed unfazed, coolly stepping out of the car and making his way toward the front door as if he belonged there. Max hesitated for a second, then followed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, trying to keep his nerves at bay.

Everything about this place felt alien to him, and he couldn’t shake the sense of being out of place.

The door opened before they even had to ring the bell. Bradley’s father, Thomas, stood in the entryway. Tall, rigid, and impeccably dressed, Thomas had the air of someone who was always in control and never showed a hint of weakness.

“Father,” Bradley greeted, his voice smooth but with an edge Max could hear—something that suggested this wasn’t their first tense interaction.

Thomas didn’t immediately acknowledge Max. Instead, his eyes swept over him, cold and calculating, before returning to Bradley. He didn’t look pleased to see them—at least, not in any real sense. The faintest flicker of disapproval passed over his features before his gaze snapped back to Bradley.

“You’ve brought someone with you,” Thomas said, his voice clipped and careful, as if acknowledging Max’s presence was more of a burden than anything else.

Max felt the weight of his gaze and immediately wished he could shrink into the ground. He knew Thomas knew exactly who he was—Bradley’s boyfriend. But that didn’t stop the way Thomas’s eyes narrowed slightly, the tension in his posture telling Max all he needed to know.

Bradley didn’t flinch. He simply nodded, his voice unwavering. “Yeah, Father. Max.” He glanced at Max, who offered a tight smile in return.

Max extended his hand, trying to be polite, though his nerves were getting the better of him. But Thomas didn’t move. He didn’t extend his hand, didn’t even offer a nod. He simply stood there, arms crossed, studying Max with a look that was more judgment than greeting.

Max cleared his throat, trying to salvage some semblance of dignity. “It’s nice to meet you, sir,” he said, his voice stiff but attempting to maintain politeness despite the palpable tension.

Thomas didn’t acknowledge the hand, let alone shake it. Instead, he gave a curt nod, eyes flicking briefly back to Bradley, as if he couldn’t wait for this awkward moment to end.

“Max,” he said, his tone cool and disinterested. “I’ve heard about you.”

The words were detached, as if Bradley had simply mentioned his name in passing, as if Max’s presence wasn’t even worth more than a passing glance.

Max’s heart raced, but he forced himself to push through. He repeated himself, “I… I’m glad to finally meet you,” his words coming out more strained than he had anticipated.

Thomas’s response was nothing more than a flick of his wrist, motioning for them to come inside. “Come in. I’m sure you’re both tired from the drive.”

Max glared at Thomas, but it didn’t faze him. He lowered his hand, allowing Bradley to rub Max’s back. Bradley’s eyes showed sympathy, and he smiled warmly at Max.

Asshole. Max thought.

Max followed Bradley inside, his stomach turning with each step. He could feel Thomas’s eyes on him, weighing him down. There was no warmth here, no effort to make him feel like he belonged. The air was thick with unspoken judgment, and Max was painfully aware of it.

Bradley, always so composed, didn’t seem fazed by his father’s cool reception.

But Max? He couldn’t help but feel the weight of it all, the crushing sense of being an outsider. His chest tightened at the thought of Bradley—his Bradley—being in this cold, sterile environment. Max wasn’t just uncomfortable—he felt possessive. Protective. He hated the way Thomas was sizing him up like he didn’t matter, like he wasn’t good enough for his son. And he wasn’t going to let that slide, even if he had to bite his tongue to avoid a confrontation.

As they walked deeper into the house, Max caught one last look from Thomas—one that made it clear that Max was nothing more than a nuisance in his eyes. The coldness between them wasn’t just about their differences. It was about something deeper. Thomas didn’t want Max around, didn’t want him touching his son, and definitely didn’t want him in his world.

Max’s grip on Bradley’s hand tightened for a moment, but he quickly released it, the moment passing as they entered a new room. He wasn’t going to back down—not when it came to Bradley. But for now, all he could do was endure it. As long as Bradley was with him, nothing else mattered.

Bradley instructed the butler to collect all their luggage from the car, even though they were only staying for a night.

“I’ll show Max to the guest room,” Bradley said to the butler, who nodded in understanding, his voice slightly too light and casual.

Bradley could sense Max’s discomfort. Max didn’t belong here, not in this world of marble floors and cold decor.

Max glanced up at Bradley, frowning. “Wait—why the guest room? Why can’t we share?” His voice was soft, almost hesitant, but there was a sharpness in his question. It was a combination of jealousy and unease—he didn’t want to be separated from Bradley, not here, not in this strange, lonely place.

Bradley’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of tension in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just… It’s the way things are done here,” he explained, his tone awkward. “My parents would… I don’t know, probably expect us to keep things proper. It’s nothing personal. I’d rather be with you, too.”

Max chewed on his snake bites, still feeling the unease coil in his stomach. The idea of being separated, even if only for a night, unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. “I guess,” he muttered, following Bradley down the long hallway.

The sound of their footsteps echoed off the high ceilings, and Max couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong in this cold, pristine world.

As they reached the guest room, Bradley opened the door and gestured for Max to go in. The room was as lavish as the rest of the house, with heavy curtains, a canopy bed, and antique furniture. But it felt like a cage, a place where Max would be left alone, separated from Bradley’s world and warmth.

Before Max could step inside, he looked back at Bradley, a hint of frustration in his voice. “You know, I’m not really a fan of all this… distance.” His eyes searched Bradley’s, desperate for reassurance.

Bradley gave him a tight smile, stepping forward to place a hand on his shoulder. “I know, Max. I know. But it’s just for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

Max nodded, though the tension in his chest didn’t ease.

“Are you ready?” Bradley asked Max. Max couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in this world of wealth, tradition, and expectations. All he wanted was to be with Bradley, not in a guest room or this cold, Uppercrust estate.

“I suppose so,” Max replied with a tiny shrugged shoulder at Bradley. 

As Max followed Bradley through the grand hallway, the huge silence between them and Thomas hung heavy. The high ceilings of the estate amplified the stillness as they made their way toward the family room.

The walls were lined with expensive art, portraits of ancestors that seemed to watch them as they walked by. Max couldn’t shake the feeling of being under a microscope, every step scrutinized, every word weighing heavy on his chest.

Bradley’s mom was already in the family room, seated on an elegant armchair by the large fireplace. She was beautiful—tall, slender, with long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders in soft waves. Her sharp blue eyes mirrored Bradley’s, and her features were an almost perfect replica of his, just with the added elegance that came with age and grace. She looked like a vision of serenity, wearing a soft, cream-colored sweater and dark jeans that were polished and well put together.

At first glance, Max couldn’t detect anything unusual. She looked poised, calm, and collected, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions that seemed to pulse in every corner of the room. But then Bradley, in his usual low voice, leaned in and whispered near Max’s ear.

“She’s drunk. Doesn’t look like it, but trust me, she’s amazing at hiding it.”

Max glanced over at Bradley, his eyebrows furrowing. “She’s… drunk?”

Bradley nodded, his lips pressed together in a tight line. “Yeah. She’s got incredible control over it. It’s like she knows exactly how to keep it together so no one can tell. But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s… well, a mess.”

Max didn’t say anything for a moment, feeling his nerves kick up again. But he forced himself to smile, knowing Bradley had to be used to this. They entered the family room, where Bradley’s mother looked up with a polite, measured smile as they approached.

“Max, this is my mother, Olivia.” Bradley’s voice had a slight edge to it, though he kept it neutral. Max extended his hand toward her, trying to ignore the growing discomfort.

Olivia’s smile never wavered as she shook his hand, but there was a certain coldness in her touch, an icy politeness that only served to make Max feel even more out of place. She didn’t meet his eyes for long, her gaze shifting back to Bradley almost immediately, as if Max were merely a bystander.

“It’s nice to meet you, Max,” she said with a voice that was smooth and controlled, but there was something underneath it. Something that didn’t quite add up. She gave a quick nod, but it wasn’t a real greeting. She was far more interested in Bradley.

“Bradley, darling, I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her tone sweet yet hollow. Max could feel the way the words hung in the air, like a carefully rehearsed script she was following. She was watching Bradley closely now, like he was her lifeline. It was clear from the look in her eyes that this wasn’t the joyful reunion of a mother and son—it was a quiet desperation, an undercurrent of need that Max couldn’t quite place.

Bradley, however, didn’t seem bothered by it. He leaned down to kiss his mother’s cheek, offering her the affection that Max knew was expected, even if it was laced with his own subtle tension.

Max’s eyes flicked between the two, trying to gauge Olivia’s state. She was polite, elegant, and perfectly composed—but Bradley’s warning echoed in his mind.

“Mom, you alright?” Bradley asked, glancing down at her, his voice softer now, protective in its own way. Olivia waved him off, her eyes flashing briefly with annoyance, as if to say, I’m fine, don’t question me.

“I’m fine, Bradley,” Olivia replied, her voice steady but with a flicker of something Max couldn’t place. “Don’t worry about me. Just enjoying your company, as always.”

Max stood awkwardly in the background, unsure of how to navigate this. He had a bad feeling about the way she was holding herself, the way she was avoiding any direct interaction with him. It wasn’t hostile, not exactly. But there was a kind of indifference—almost a level of condescension—that made him feel smaller than he already did in this house.

“Of course,” Bradley replied, his tone softening as he placed a hand on his mom’s shoulder. “We’ll be here for a while, so you’ll have plenty of time to talk.”

Olivia smiled again, but this time it was sharp, calculated. Her eyes shifted to Max for just a moment before flicking away. It wasn’t overtly cold, but it felt like a message. You’re not part of this world, Max. Don’t forget your place.

Max swallowed hard, trying not to let the weight of the atmosphere crush him. He could feel her judgment, the thinly veiled disdain that she made no effort to hide.

Bradley must have sensed the discomfort because he quickly turned his attention back to Max, pulling him into the conversation. “Max, why don’t you sit down?” he suggested, giving Max a small, reassuring smile.

Max sat next to Bradley, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Olivia was still watching him, her eyes assessing, calculating.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

That evening, Bradley’s parents hosted a formal dinner. The dining room was grand, the long table meticulously set with polished silverware, crystal glasses, and fine china that gleamed in the soft light of the chandelier. It was the kind of setting Max had seen in magazines, but now that he was here, he felt like an imposter. Everything about this place screamed wealth, refinement, and tradition—things that seemed foreign to him, things that had never really mattered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, his fork, or the delicate glass of water that felt too fancy to touch.

Thomas and Olivia maintained a polite conversation, but Max could feel the tension with every word they said, each sentence a thinly veiled judgment. Olivia, with her carefully coiffed blonde hair and perfectly manicured nails, directed most of her comments at him. It wasn’t direct hostility, but rather the subtle, cutting remarks that made him feel smaller with every breath.

“Bradley, dear,” Olivia said, her voice smooth, a soft smile curving her lips. “You used to have such sophisticated taste. I’m glad to see you... branching out.”

Max’s grip on his glass tightened. The way she said branching out made it clear she was referring to him. He glanced at Bradley, who gave him a quick, reassuring look, but it wasn’t enough to shake off the coldness in the room.

“I don’t see it as branching out,” Bradley said easily, cutting into his steak with unhurried precision. “I’m just finding what makes me happy.”

Olivia’s smile didn’t change, but Max could sense the subtle tightening around her eyes. "How... sweet,” she replied, her voice oozing with thinly veiled sarcasm. “It’s so nice to see you so…comfortable in your choices.”

Max felt his blood boil, but he forced himself to stay composed. He couldn’t let her see how much her comments were getting to him. Not when she was clearly trying to bait him.

Olivia, not missing a beat, turned her attention back to Max. “Max, do you drink wine?” she asked, lifting her glass delicately. “Or is beer more your style?”

Her tone was casual, as if asking about his drink preferences was some kind of polite inquiry, but Max could hear the underlying judgment in the question. As if wine was the epitome of sophistication, and anything else was… beneath her.

“I drink whatever tastes good,” Max said, his voice steady, though a little more clipped than he intended. He met her eyes, refusing to back down. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten under his skin.

Bradley shifted beside him, catching his gaze with a soft look, as if silently telling him to breathe. But it didn’t help much. The coldness in Thomas’s silence and Olivia’s pointed remarks was like a weight on his chest.

“I can’t imagine what that’s like." Olivia continued, her voice sweet, but there was no mistaking the condescension. “Living so… unconcerned with finer things.”

Max bit back a retort, reminding himself that getting into an argument here would only play into her hands. But it was getting harder to hold his tongue.

Thomas, who had been quietly observing from his side of the table, spoke up for the first time. His voice was cool, detached. “You’ve been busy, I assume,” he said to Bradley, though his gaze lingered on Max for a brief second before turning back to his son. “Too busy for family time. We don’t see much of you anymore.”

Bradley didn’t flinch. He had heard this before. “I’ve been… busy with school. You know how it is.” He picked at his food, not looking up.

Olivia chimed in, her voice soft but insistent. “I suppose it’s understandable. But it’s been months, Bradley. You could always come home, you know.” She placed her hand over his, her fingers soft against his skin. Her expression was tender but edged with something Max couldn’t quite pinpoint—like an unspoken plea wrapped in guilt.

Max’s stomach twisted. It wasn’t just the words; it was the way Olivia used them—like a trap. She was manipulating Bradley in the quietest, most insidious way. Max could see it. He could feel it.

Bradley’s eyes flicked down at her hand, and for a brief moment, Max saw him hesitate, as if her words struck a chord. But then, before Bradley could respond, Max’s voice cut in.

“Bradley is home,” he said, his voice surprisingly calm, almost flat. “With me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their meaning.

There was a moment of stillness. Olivia’s hand froze, her fingers momentarily tightening on Bradley’s, but she said nothing. Her eyes flicked to Max, calculating, searching for some crack in his calm exterior, but she found none.

Thomas didn’t react. He simply sipped his wine, his face unreadable.

Bradley shifted beside Max, looking at him with a hint of surprise. He wasn’t angry, just… startled by the bluntness of Max’s response.

Max didn’t look at Bradley. He kept his gaze locked on Olivia, whose smile faltered for just a fraction of a second before she straightened herself.

“That’s… nice,” Olivia said, her voice clipped, trying to recover from the unexpected turn of events. “I suppose it’s good to have a place where you both feel comfortable.”

Max didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

The tension in the room had reached a boiling point. Everyone knew what had just transpired, but no one knew how to move past it. Bradley looked at Max, his gaze softening, but he didn’t say anything either.

It was clear. Olivia had wanted to manipulate Bradley into thinking he was missing something, but Max wasn’t about to let her. Not now, not ever.

Chapter Text

Later that night, in the suffocating silence of the estate, Max lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was too cold, too sterile—like everything else in this house. It felt wrong. Bradley should be with him, but instead, they’d been separated, shoved into different rooms like they were teenagers sneaking around.

His jaw tightened. He hated this place. Hated how it made Bradley act, how it made him close off like he was bracing for impact.

A soft click of the door handle had him sitting up instantly. Bradley slipped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. He wasn’t angry, not exactly, but there was tension in his shoulders, in the way his lips pressed together.

Max exhaled through his nose, already knowing what was coming.

“What the hell was that?” Bradley whispered harshly, crossing the room. “I had it under control.”

Max scoffed, sitting up fully, resting his forearms on his knees. “Sure. You always have it under control, don’t you?” His voice was lower now, still edged with frustration, but softer. “Except you don’t. You let them get in your head, Bradley.”

Bradley dragged a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “That’s just how it is,” he muttered. “I know how to handle them, Max. I don’t need you stepping in like I’m some helpless—”

“You’re not helpless,” Max interrupted, standing now, closing the space between them. His voice dropped, firm but quiet. “But I see what they do to you. You shut down. You let them talk to you like that—like you owe them something. Like they get to decide who you are.”

Bradley’s gaze flickered, his frustration wavering for a split second. “I just—” He sighed, shaking his head again. “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

Max huffed a bitter laugh. “I’m not fighting for you; I’m fighting with you,” he said, his fingers twitching at his sides. His chest was tight, his possessiveness clawing its way up his throat. He hated them. Hated that they made Bradley feel like this.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was their breathing, slow and uneven, filling the empty space between them. Bradley wouldn’t say it, but Max could feel it—he didn’t hate it. He liked how Max defended him. Maybe he even needed it.

Max reached out, brushing his fingers against Bradley’s wrist before gripping it tighter, pulling him close. “You don’t have to act so damn strong with me,” he murmured, voice low but steady. “I see through it.”

Bradley didn’t answer. He just exhaled, something breaking in his posture, and let himself lean in.

Max pulled him down onto the bed, wrapping around him like he was staking a claim, his hands firm but warm against Bradley’s back. Bradley didn’t resist. He let Max hold him, let the weight of his body press him down, anchoring him, grounding him.

They stayed like that, limbs tangled, the tension between them shifting into something quieter but no less intense. Max pressed a kiss to the side of Bradley’s head, his grip tightening just slightly.

Bradley didn’t pull away. Instead, he buried himself deeper into Max’s arms, the cold of the house fading against the warmth between them.

for a few minutes, Bradley lifts himself out of max's embrace. sitting at the edge of the bed.

"Stay with me tonight?" Max pleaded, knowing they shouldn't, but he's determined to make Bradley stay, using his tried-and-true methods.

It works, almost every time.

Max got off from the bed to sink to the floor, his knees pressing into the hardwood, gazing up at Bradley with desire-filled eyes.

Bradley perched on the guest bed's edge, while Max's intense gaze remained fixed on him.

"Please, just for tonight," Max whispered, his voice filled with possessive desire. Bradley hesitated as Max's hands went on his thighs. Trailing his fingers up and down Bradley's inner thighs, claiming him as his own.

Max can see how hard it is for Bradley, weighing the pros and cons of giving in to his request. Max's heart raced, hoping Bradley would agree to stay with him for the night.

"Hmm, on one condition," Bradley finally spoke, his voice soft. "I'll stay, but just for a couple of hours." Bradley slowly cuffed his long-sleeve up, revealing his veiny forearms as he deliberately placed his hands on the mattress.

"I can't promise more than that," he added, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Not what Max wants, but he knew it was better than nothing.

Max asserts his dominance, moving to Bradley's thighs and spreading them as he pleases.

Max is eyeing up Bradley's expression; it is more like adoration than desire.

Max craves to tease him, relishing in his power over Bradley, wanting to push his limits.

Max's teeth graze over the fabric of Bradley's jeans, savoring the way Bradley tenses in response to Max's touch.

Bradley's hand gripped possessively onto Max's hair, while his other hand deftly undid Bradley's jeans. Max's pupils dilated as he watched Bradley unveil his half-hardened cock from his boxers.

With a mischievous grin, Bradley whispered possessively, "Let's make those couple of hours count in all the right ways."

Max responded with a low chuckle, taking all of him in his mouth.

Max hummed as Bradley forcefully tangled his fingers in his hair.

He started bobbing up and down. With each time, his nose buried deep in Bradley's hair, greedily inhaling his intoxicating scent. The head of his cock repeatedly brushes against Max's eager throat, his lack of gag reflex driving Bradley wild.

Bradley's grip tightened in Max's hair as he moaned in ecstasy, his hips instinctively syncing with Max's eager movements.

Max adores the way Bradley moans his name, claiming it as his own in Bradley's world.

Bradley's breath hitched, growing ragged as Max persisted, his moans escalating with each tantalizing motion.

"You're mine, my obedient boy. You handle me perfectly," Bradley growled.

Bradley's hand caressed Max's throat, teasing the cock-shaped bulge with each of Max's deep throats. Max revels in the sight of Bradley's pleasure as he fills Max's throat with his cock.

Max's eyes snapped shut, completely possessed by Bradley's touch, his every fiber craving more of his lover's embrace. Feeling his cock throb with desire, he urgently stripped off his pants, releasing his aching length without hesitation.

Bradley's eyes smoldered as he commanded, "Touch yourself, Maxxie; show me who you belong to."

Max's body trembled with need as he eagerly followed Bradley's command, a display of his complete surrender.

His fingers wrapped around his own hard cock as he continued to pleasure Bradley with his mouth.

Bradley guided Max's head, plunging deep into his willing mouth, claiming him with every forceful thrust.

Max's moans vibrated against Bradley's cock as he continued to take him deeper. His own arousal growing with each thrust.

"Fuck Max." Bradley took Max's mouth off of him; Max's eyes fluttered open, half-lidded eyes, his tongue sticking out, saliva dripping down his chin.

Max sees a smirk on Bradley's face. "You belong to me, Max, and you know it."

Max's cock throbs with desire, the tip glistening with need. He cannot take it anymore; he stood up to take his pants off and then whispered in Bradley's ear, "Please. Brady. Please fuck me."

Bradley lets Max straddle him. "Wait, shouldn't I prepare you first? I don't want to hurt you—"

Max doesn't give a damn; he forcefully crashes his lips onto Bradley's, dominating the kiss.

"If you instead..." Bradley firmly grasped Max's ass, kneading it possessively before positioning him over his throbbing cock. Thrust right into Max.

Max gasps as Bradley enters him, the pleasure overwhelming. Max moans loudly, relishing the possessive grip of Bradley's hands on his hips.

He cannot help it but moans every time he rides Bradley; Bradley quickly moves his hand to Max's mouth.

"Shh, don't be too loud," Bradley whispers; he continues to thrust into Max. Max bites down on Bradley's hand, muffling his own sounds of pleasure.

Max's body trembles with each powerful thrust, his back arching in ecstasy. Max senses himself at the edge, certain that Bradley is aware as he watches Max and feels his cock moving with each thrust into him. He can see how swollen, red, and so eager to explode. Max is craving release with every fiber of his being. He craves to mark Bradley as his own, to brand him with his cum. To claim him as his possession. As Bradley quickened his pace, Max's breath hitches in anticipation of release.

"I'm coming, Max. I know you want to come with me, together." On the final thrust, Max felt he was being filled up as he released himself all over Bradley's long-sleeve shirt. Drenched with his cum, marking him as his own. Bradley's satisfied smile tells Max that he doesn't mind being claimed in such a way.

Bradley teased, "Look, my shirt is ruined." Max's heart swells with possessiveness and satisfaction, knowing that Bradley is truly his.

And then they went for a couple of rounds. Max found himself in Bradley's arms, his eyes fluttering closed, feeling Bradley's lips against his forehead. "Go sleep, my love. I will see you in the morning."

"Just a little longer," he whispers, hoping Bradley will give in to his request for more time together. But Bradley shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips."I'll see you tomorrow," he promises, squeezing Max's hand.

Max drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Max was already on edge. The estate felt even colder in the daylight, the sharp morning light streaming through the massive windows, illuminating just how sterile everything was. He hadn’t seen Bradley yet—just long, empty hallways and the occasional staff member who barely acknowledged his presence.

Then Thomas found him.

Max had been making his way toward the dining room when he felt a presence beside him. Thomas didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He simply gestured for Max to follow him down a quieter hallway, one lined with paintings that probably cost more than Max’s entire life.

Max didn’t hesitate. He wasn’t afraid of this man.

When Thomas finally stopped, he turned to Max, his expression unreadable, but his eyes sharp with quiet disdain. “I’ll be direct,” he said, his voice smooth but firm. “You are not welcome in our world.”

Max didn’t flinch, but his fists curled at his sides. He had expected this. He knew this was coming. But hearing it so plainly still made his blood boil.

Thomas continued, tilting his head slightly as if sizing Max up. “Bradley deserves better.” His tone was casual, as if stating a simple fact. “You’ll never belong here, Max.” A pause. A slow, deliberate smile. “And eventually, he’ll realize that.”

Max’s jaw clenched. His entire body was tense, a slow, simmering rage coiling in his chest. But he refused to give Thomas the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he met the man’s gaze, unwavering. “Bradley belongs with me,” he said, voice steady despite the storm inside him. “And I don’t give a damn if you approve or not.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Thomas smiled—cold, calculating, as if he already knew something Max didn’t.

“We’ll see,” Thomas murmured before turning and walking away, leaving Max standing there, his heart pounding, his mind racing.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to brush it off, to convince himself that none of this mattered. But Thomas’ words slithered into his thoughts like poison, planting something deep inside him.

A quiet, nagging fear.

What if Bradley did realize it? What if, one day, he woke up and saw what his parents saw—someone who didn’t belong in his world?

Max shook his head, shoving the thought away.

No. Bradley loved him. Bradley chose him.

But even as he told himself that, the seed had been planted. And no matter how many times Bradley reassured him, no matter how fiercely he held onto him, that doubt would remain—a shadow lurking in the corners of his mind, waiting for the right moment to take root.

New Year’s Eve Party

The estate transformed into a dazzling display of wealth, the grand ballroom alive with shimmering lights and the clinking of crystal glasses. The air was thick with expensive perfume, fake smiles, and empty conversations—people greeting each other with hollow pleasantries, their laughter just a little too polished, their eyes always searching for the next person to impress.

Max hated it.

He felt out of place, like a jagged edge in a room full of smooth, curated surfaces. This wasn’t his world, and everyone here knew it. They didn’t have to say it outright—their glances, the slight hesitation before acknowledging him, and the way they spoke around him rather than to him made it perfectly clear.

Bradley, on the other hand, fit in too well. He moved through the crowd with practiced ease, offering charming smiles and shaking hands with people whose names Max didn’t know and didn’t care to learn. And even though Bradley never let Max stray too far, it wasn’t enough.

Max stuck close, fingers twitching at his sides, itching to grab Bradley’s wrist, to hold him tight, to remind him—you belong with me, not them.

And then Olivia made her move.

She was smooth about it, so effortless that Max almost didn’t notice at first. One moment, Bradley was beside him, and the next, Olivia had seamlessly drawn him into another conversation, subtly guiding him toward a girl—someone from his world, as she saw it.

Max knew what this was the second he laid eyes on her.

She was beautiful and elegant, with that effortless charm that made people gravitate toward her. She laughed at Bradley’s words, touched his arm lightly, her presence fitting too easily into the space where Max should be. And Bradley, being Bradley, was polite—too polite.

Max’s grip tightened around his glass, jaw clenching as he watched. Every instinct in him screamed to move, to rip Bradley away from this setup before Olivia’s carefully crafted illusion could take root. But he waited. He watched.

Bradley was entertaining the conversation, but there was no spark, no real interest. His body language was stiff, reserved, like he was going through the motions. And then Olivia spoke, just loud enough for Max to hear.

“Wouldn’t she be a much better match for you, Bradley?”

That was it.

That was the last fucking straw.

Before Max could think, before he could talk himself down, he was already moving. One second, he was standing at the edge of the party, and the next, he was slipping between them, inserting himself into the space Olivia had tried to carve out. His arm wrapped around Bradley’s waist, fingers pressing into his side, his presence a solid, immovable force.

The girl hesitated mid-sentence, her eyes flicking between them, sensing the shift in the air.

Max ignored her. His attention was on Bradley, his voice low, just for him. “Are you enjoying yourself?” It wasn’t really a question. It was a warning.

Bradley turned his head slightly, startled, but his eyes—dark, searching—told Max everything. There was something there, something like relief, like finally. He wasn’t comfortable either.

Still, Bradley played it cool. “We were just talking,” he said, his voice level, though there was an edge to it now.

Max leaned in, his breath hot against Bradley’s ear, his fingers tightening around his waist. “I don’t like this,” he murmured. “I don’t like people thinking they can take what’s mine.”

Bradley let out a slow breath, like he was weighing his options, but before he could say anything, Max acted.

He didn’t yell. He didn’t make a scene.

Instead, he kissed Bradley.

Right there, in front of Olivia, in front of everyone.

Slow, deliberate, possessive.

Bradley went still for only a second before instinctively leaning in. The world around them blurred—the music, the guests, the carefully curated social dance. None of it mattered. Just the press of their lips, the heat of Max’s hand against his side, the quiet confirmation that this—this was real.

When Max pulled back, he met Olivia’s gaze, his expression unreadable. But his message was clear:

Bradley belongs to me.

Olivia’s lips pressed into a thin line. She said nothing, but Max could see it—the irritation just beneath the surface. The girl, clearly uncomfortable, quickly excused herself.

And just like that, Max won this battle.

Bradley exhaled sharply, giving Max a look—half exasperated, half amused. “You really couldn’t wait, huh?”

Max smirked, smug satisfaction settling deep in his chest. “Nope.”

But what mattered most wasn’t Olivia’s reaction. It wasn’t the way the girl left or the way the whispers started up around them.

What mattered was the way Bradley looked at him.

Max could feel it—how much Bradley loved this, how much he wanted it. The way his fingers curled subtly against Max’s jacket, barely gripping—but gripping. The way his breath had hitched, the way his pulse still throbbed beneath Max’s touch.

He wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t scolding him.

Bradley loved it.

And that was all Max needed.

When he pulled back, his eyes locked onto Bradley’s, searching—watching. Bradley’s expression was unreadable at first, but then something flickered beneath the surface. A slow exhale, the slight parting of his lips, the dark glint in his gaze. He liked that.

Max’s grip tightened just a little around his waist. You like it when I do this, don’t you? He didn’t have to say it out loud—Bradley’s body told him everything.

Bradley covered it well, rolling his eyes as if exasperated. “You’re so damn dramatic.” But his voice was quieter now, his pulse betraying him beneath Max’s fingertips.

Max smirked, leaning in again, this time brushing his lips along the shell of Bradley’s ear, his voice a low murmur just for him. “And you love it.”

Bradley didn’t deny it.

Instead, his fingers curled subtly against Max’s jacket, barely gripping—but Max felt it. That unspoken confirmation, that quiet surrender.

His chest swelled with satisfaction, his possessiveness easing into something deeper, something warmer.

Bradley wanted this.

He wanted to be claimed, wanted to be reminded exactly where he belonged.

And Max was more than happy to remind him.

Chapter Text

After the kiss, the ballroom didn’t exactly fall silent, but there was a shift—whispers, stolen glances, the kind of tension that only comes when someone breaks the script in a place like this. The music played on, and people pretended not to stare, but Max could feel the weight of their attention.

And more than anyone else, he could feel Thomas and Olivia watching.

Thomas sat near the bar, swirling the deep red wine in his glass, expression unreadable, but there was a tightness to his posture, a flicker of something sharp in his eyes.

Olivia, however, was easier to read—her lips pressed into a thin, displeased line, fingers gripping the stem of her champagne flute a little too tightly. She recovered quickly, of course. She was an expert at masking her emotions, but Max caught it.

That moment of pure, seething disapproval.

Good.

Let her stew in it.

Bradley, for his part, didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned into Max just a little more, letting the heat of his body press against him. His fingers ghosted over Max’s wrist in a way that was subtle but intentional, a quiet reassurance that, despite everything, he was right where he wanted to be.

Still, Max knew this wasn’t over.

“Excuse us,” Olivia said smoothly, standing with the kind of grace only someone born into wealth could manage. “Bradley, dear. A word?”

Bradley tensed just for a second before smoothing his expression into something neutral. “If this is about—”

“Now,” she interrupted, voice soft but firm. It wasn’t a request.

Bradley sighed, giving Max one last look before stepping away. He didn’t want to go; that much was obvious, but they both knew his mother wasn’t the kind of person you ignored in her house.

Max watched him go, jaw clenched, hands itching to reach out and pull him back. But instead, he turned his attention to Thomas, who was still seated, still watching him.

The man smirked, slow and knowing, before taking a sip of his wine. “You really think you’ve won something, don’t you?”

Max didn’t hesitate. “I don’t think. I know.”

Thomas chuckled, low and amused, like he was humoring a child who didn’t understand how the world worked. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.” He set his glass down, leveling Max with a gaze that was calm but heavy with intent.

“But you’re a passing storm, Max. And storms fade. My son will realize that eventually.”

Max’s entire body went tight. It took everything in him not to react, not to let Thomas see just how deeply those words dug into him.

He forced a smirk. “You keep telling yourself that.”

But even as he said it, the seed of doubt was there, sinking into his bones.

Because what if Thomas was right?

What if, one day, Bradley did wake up and realize Max wasn’t enough?

Max swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. He couldn’t afford to think like that.

Not now.

Not ever.

Instead, he turned away, searching the room for Bradley, determined to stay close—because no matter what Thomas or Olivia thought, Bradley belonged to him.

And Max wasn’t going to let anyone take him away.

Max noticed it the moment Bradley came back—something was off.

The tension in his shoulders, the way he avoided Max's gaze, the stiffness in his movements. And then Max saw it.

A faint redness on Bradley's cheek.

Something inside Max snapped.

He grabbed Bradley's wrist without a word and pulled him out of the ballroom, his grip tight but not enough to hurt. They didn't stop until they reached an empty hallway, away from the music, the guests, and the suffocating presence of Bradley's parents.

"Tell me what happened," Max demanded, his voice low and steady—but barely holding back the storm beneath.

Bradley exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Max, don't—"

"Bradley." Max's eyes burned into his, fingers ghosting over the red mark on his cheek. Bradley flinched slightly, not from the touch but from the way Max was looking at him—like he was seconds away from burning the entire estate to the ground.

Bradley sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn't a big deal."

"Don't lie to me." Max's tone was harder now. He wasn't angry at Bradley; he was angry at Olivia, Thomas, the whole fucking situation, and the idea that someone could hurt his Bradley. Max's fingers brushed over the red mark, the bruise that shouldn't be there, and Bradley flinched, but only slightly.

"She slapped me," Bradley admitted quietly, his voice almost lost under the weight of the words.

"It's nothing serious."

Max's jaw tightened. He was fighting the urge to scream, to rip that woman apart for laying a finger on Bradley. "She hit you. Over what? Over us?"

Bradley nodded, but he wasn't meeting Max's eyes. "She didn't like the scene we made. She said I should act like an Uppercrust for once."

Max's fingers curled into fists at his sides. His gaze never left Bradley's face. It wasn't enough that they had to fight for their love in front of everyone else—now his mother was going to take it out on Bradley? No.

His voice was rough with frustration as he spoke. "I'll kill her."

It was a promise.

A threat.

A vow.

His hands were shaking, his whole body tense with the desire to protect Bradley—no matter what.

Bradley stepped closer to him, his hands resting gently on Max's chest. "Max, calm down."

But Max was having none of it. His hands reached out, cupping Bradley's face, feeling the faint warmth of the bruise beneath his fingertips. He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against the red mark on Bradley's cheek. It was almost tender, but there was an unmistakable possessiveness behind it, a quiet declaration that Bradley belonged to him. That no one could hurt him without facing the consequences.

When he pulled away, his expression was unreadable, but his gaze was fierce—focused entirely on Bradley, as if nothing else mattered in the world. "She'll never touch you again," Max vowed softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Bradley's fingers brushed against his jaw, grounding him. "Max, you don't have to fight all my battles for me."

Max swallowed hard, the tenderness in his expression betraying how much he needed to protect Bradley. "I'm yours," Max said, voice low and steady. "You're mine. And I don't let anyone hurt what's mine."

Bradley smiled faintly, pressing his forehead against Max's. "I know," he murmured, his hands pulling Max closer, the silent reassurance that they were in this together, no matter what.

Max wrapped his arms around Bradley tightly, pressing his lips to his temple, letting the moment wash over him. In this world full of chaos, of hurtful words and cold family dynamics, this was the one thing he knew for sure: Bradley was his—and he would never let anyone take him away.

Max felt the warmth of Bradley’s hand in his, a silent reassurance that despite everything, they were still standing together. He held onto it like a lifeline, feeling the tight grip Bradley had on him. Their steps were synchronized as they made their way back into the ballroom, the weight of the moment still hanging between them like an unspoken promise.

But as they re-entered the crowd, Max could feel the eyes that followed them, like the tension in the air thickened once again. He didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them whisper. None of that mattered. Not when Bradley was with him.

Olivia and Thomas were still there, like silent predators waiting to pounce, but Max didn’t let his gaze linger on them. Instead, he kept his focus on Bradley, watching as he took in a deep breath, letting go of whatever lingering discomfort had plagued him earlier.

“Are you sure you want to go back?” Max asked, his voice softer now, full of something gentler than before.

Bradley gave him a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was enough. “Yeah. We’re not letting them win.”

Max’s heart skipped a beat at the defiance in his tone. We’re not letting them win. Max loved him for that. For all his scars and the walls he kept up, Bradley was still willing to fight—willing to stand by him.

The fireworks above exploded in brilliant colors, the night sky lighting up in flashes of red, blue, and gold.

Max stared up at the display, the bright lights flickering across his face. He stood under the wide glass ceiling of the ballroom, the fireworks visible outside—distant, yet stunning.

The warmth of the space enveloped them both, making the contrast even more striking. They were protected, warm inside, while the world outside blazed with color and chaos, like the storm they had just weathered.

Bradley, standing close beside him, seemed to sense the same thing, his gaze lifting toward the fireworks before returning to Max. It was a brief, shared moment between them, where the world outside felt like something they could reach for, but not touch—not while they were here, in this cocoon, surrounded by the opulence of the ballroom.

“You know,” Max said, breaking the silence, his voice playful but soft, “I think I’ve got a lot more patience than I give myself credit for. I didn’t even try to throw anyone in the pond this time.”

Bradley chuckled, his lips curling into a grin. “Well, I’m impressed. I was half expecting someone to end up in the water.”

Max laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for a moment, the weight of everything lifted just a little. He nudged Bradley with his shoulder. “I might need to work on that patience thing, though. You ever met someone so irritating you just want to shove them into the nearest pond?”

Bradley’s grin widened, and he leaned closer, his voice teasing. “You? Never.”

Max snorted, his chest rumbling with laughter. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t had a few thoughts.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, eyes sparkling. “A few thoughts, huh? Do I need to be worried?”

“Nah,” Max replied, shaking his head with a grin. “But you might want to keep an eye on your mother. She looks like she could use a little splash of cold water.”

Bradley rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a soft chuckle. “She’s the least of our worries.”

Max looked over at him, feeling a flicker of something warm in his chest. For all the chaos of tonight, for all the eyes watching them, it was these moments with Bradley that made everything else fade into the background.

“I think I’m gonna have to take you somewhere nice after this,” Max said, voice turning a little more serious, though the glint of mischief didn’t leave his eyes. “Somewhere far away from all this… grandeur.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, looking intrigued. “Where?”

Max’s smile was sly. “Somewhere with no fancy ballrooms. Maybe a cabin. Just us. A fire. Maybe some pizza. You down?”

Bradley’s eyes softened, a smile pulling at his lips. “That sounds perfect, actually.”

Max nodded, pulling him closer just for a moment. “Good. Because I think we both deserve something like that. And I’m not gonna let anything—anyone—stand in the way of it.”

Bradley just nodded, his fingers tightening around Max’s hand as they turned back toward the crowd. But in that brief moment, before they reentered the chaos of the ballroom, they were just two people with the world on their shoulders, but not really caring because they had each other. And that, for now, was enough.

As the fireworks outside continued their burst of color, Max couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, their future would shine just as brightly. They didn’t need the grand ballrooms or the judging eyes of those around them. They had each other—and that was the kind of magic no one could ever steal.

“Happy New Year,” Max murmured, his voice low but filled with a warmth that only seemed to grow when Bradley was near.

Bradley turned toward him, his gaze soft and a little mischievous as the seconds ticked down to midnight. “Happy New Year, Max.”

There was something in the air, something electric, as they stood there—surrounded by the festivities but completely in tune with each other. Bradley’s eyes flicked to the clock, and as the countdown began, Max felt his heart beat faster.

“Three… two… one…”

And just as the room erupted with cheers and applause, just as the new year hit, Max’s hand found Bradley’s cheek, pulling him in. Bradley met him halfway, their lips meeting in a kiss that felt both brand new and achingly familiar.

It wasn’t a kiss fueled by urgency or desperate emotion, but one that felt like a promise—a seal on the year ahead, whatever it might bring.

The world outside, with its fireworks and shouts of celebration, faded into nothing as they kissed. The warmth of the ballroom, the soft hum of voices around them, felt far away—insignificant compared to the moment they shared.

When they finally pulled away, their foreheads stayed pressed together, and Max couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“I think that’s the best way to start the year,” he whispered.

Bradley chuckled, the sound soft and content. “I’ll say.”

His hands slid around Max’s waist, pulling him closer. “Though I’m pretty sure that was the only thing I needed to make this year unforgettable.”

Max grinned, his hands resting at the small of Bradley’s back. “Good. Because we’ve got a lot ahead of us.”

Bradley nodded, his gaze still holding Max’s, a quiet understanding between them. The fireworks continued to light up the sky outside the glass ceiling, but inside, all Max could see was Bradley—standing here with him, in this moment.

For the first time all night, the weight of everything lifted. They were just two people, standing in the middle of a crowded ballroom, lost in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

And as the fireworks exploded in the sky, Max’s heart settled into a rhythm he knew he wouldn’t want to change. The year had only just begun, but with Bradley by his side, Max knew that whatever came their way, they’d face it together.

Max couldn’t wait to leave. He’d been pacing around the guest room, moving things from the bed to the suitcase, organizing, and reorganizing.

Anything to pass the time.

Bradley was still upstairs, talking to his mother, and Max had a feeling the conversation wasn’t going well. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like he was going to stay here longer than they had to. Their life wasn’t here—it was there, in their apartment, in their little world that felt like home.

A few more things were stuffed into the bag, and Max zipped it up with a satisfied grin. He was already thinking about what they’d do when they got home, what they could do together now that they didn’t have to worry about Bradley’s parents, or pretending to be someone they weren’t.

He knew Bradley had his issues with his family, and sometimes it wore him down, but Max never wanted to go back. Not after everything that had happened. They belonged together, in their space, not surrounded by the coldness of Bradley’s world.

His thoughts were cut short by Bradley’s voice, soft but strained, calling from the upstairs hallway.

“Max?”

Max didn’t wait another second. He was halfway down the stairs before Bradley even finished saying his name. His stomach was already doing that excited flip, the way it always did when he knew they were about to leave. They were leaving. They were going back to their place, back to their life, and nothing could feel better than that.

He reached the bottom of the stairs just as Bradley appeared, the door of the guest room closing softly behind him. His face looked a little tired, but there was something else there too—something familiar in his eyes. Maybe it was the weight of everything that happened over the past few hours, but Max didn’t care. He just wanted to go home.

“You ready?” Max asked, practically bouncing on his feet, his voice almost a little too high-pitched, like a kid ready to go on vacation.

Bradley gave him a small, tired smile. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Max grinned, ignoring the soft twinge of guilt that flickered in Bradley’s eyes. He wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of them leaving. It was always easier when they were together—nothing else mattered. He could sense Bradley’s lingering hesitation, the pull to stay longer, to keep up the act for his parents’ sake. But Max wasn’t about to let that happen. He wasn’t going to let Bradley slip back into their world of cold, judgmental expectations.

Not tonight.

As they stood there, ready to leave, Max’s eyes flickered to the hallway where Bradley’s mother had been standing a moment ago. She’d been quiet when she said goodbye, almost like she didn’t know how to hold onto him. And Max didn’t care. Bradley didn’t need to stay here any longer. This was their chance to get out—to go home.

He slung his arm around Bradley’s shoulder, feeling the comforting warmth of him beside him. “Let’s go,” Max said, voice bright and determined.

Bradley nodded, and Max could feel the subtle shift in him. The tension seemed to melt off Bradley’s shoulders the moment they stepped outside, the cold air hitting them, but it didn’t matter. They were leaving this place behind, leaving the expectations and the weight of his family’s gaze. It was just the two of them now, and that’s all that mattered.

Max didn’t look back at the mansion. He didn’t have to. He already knew they were better off without it.

Max could feel the power of the engine beneath him as he gripped the wheel of Bradley's latest fancy car. The smooth leather of the seats felt foreign beneath him, but the thrill of being in it—the thrill of driving it—pushed him forward. The car purred like a wild animal, responding to every turn of the wheel, every press of the pedal. Max loved it. The speed, the control. But more than that, it was the freedom he felt when he drove, especially in this car—Bradley’s car.

Bradley was already settled in the passenger seat, his arms crossed and his eyes focused out the window, the expression on his face unreadable. Max knew better than to press him right away, but he couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at Bradley’s profile. This was their moment, their time to escape the mansion, to leave all that tension and judgment behind. It wasn’t home there.

Home was their apartment.

Their life.

Their place, where everything was real.

Max’s hands tightened around the wheel as he slid the car out of the driveway, the tires gliding across the pavement in a smooth motion that felt like perfection. He could feel the engine revving beneath him, and the power it held in every turn was intoxicating. He pushed the gas pedal, letting the car surge forward, the familiar hum of excitement filling his chest.

Bradley’s gaze never wavered from the road outside the window, and Max knew that even though he wasn’t looking at him, Bradley was still there—still with him, even if his mind wasn’t fully present.

Max glanced over at Bradley, voice light and teasing. “You good?”

Bradley showed a small smile, his lips curling at the corners, but he didn’t respond right away. His eyes flicked to Max for just a second, a brief moment of connection before he looked away again. “Yeah. Just… ready to go home.”

Max smirked, his grip on the wheel never loosening. “Our home, right?”

Bradley’s lips twitched again, the smile lingering before he turned his gaze out the window once more. He didn’t have to answer. Max could feel it. They were together—no more games, no more pretending. It was just the two of them and the road ahead.

But there was something else in the air now. Something softer. He reached over, weaving his fingers with Bradley’s, his grip steady and confident. Bradley’s hand was warm against his, and Max let out a breath, feeling something shift between them. It was simple, yet so perfect. The small gesture was so intimate in its quietness.

Without thinking, Max pressed his lips against Bradley’s knuckles, kissing them softly. The moment was slow, tender. Bradley’s breath hitched ever so slightly, and Max could feel the warmth radiating off him, even in the stillness of the car.

Bradley melted into the touch, his body shifting slightly as his eyes fluttered closed. He didn’t say anything, but his grip tightened around Max’s fingers, like he was trying to hold onto this moment as much as Max was.

The road stretched out in front of them, dark and empty, and it was past one in the morning—way past. They were both tired, their bodies heavy with exhaustion from the long night. But despite that, there was a peace between them now. No more pretending. No more games. Just the two of them, holding on to each other in the quiet of the night.

Max glanced over at Bradley, his heart full as he gave him a soft smile. “We’re almost there, babe,” he murmured, his voice a gentle promise.

Bradley’s smile was small, but it was real. His eyelids fluttered open, his eyes meeting Max’s, a sense of warmth and exhaustion in his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice thick with tiredness. “I’m just… glad to be with you.”

Max squeezed Bradley’s hand, his thumb brushing over the top of his knuckles in a steady rhythm. “Always, Bradley. Always.”

They drove on, the hum of the car and the rhythm of their fingers entwined, the only sound filling the quiet space between them. The world outside seemed to disappear, and for once, there was nothing left to worry about. Just the road, just the night, just the two of them.

And when they got home?

It would be theirs.

Just theirs.

Chapter Text

The apartment felt colder than usual, the quiet hanging in the air like a weight Max couldn’t lift. He stood by the counter, his fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee he’d made hours ago but had long since gone lukewarm. He had been trying to focus on anything but Bradley, but it was useless. Bradley was there, in the same space, but it felt like there was a distance between them that hadn’t been there before. Max hated it, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started or why it felt like it was getting worse.

Bradley was sitting at the table, his textbooks spread out in front of him, though Max could tell by the tightness in his posture that he wasn’t really reading. His eyes flicked over the pages, but his mind was elsewhere. Max couldn’t help but feel a twist in his stomach, the jealousy creeping in like it always did when Bradley was distracted or withdrawn.

“Are you going out with Tank?” Max asked, the question coming out with more edge than he intended. He could feel the words leave his mouth before he had time to filter them, the tone sharper than normal, but it didn’t matter now. Bradley looked up slowly, but there was something guarded in his eyes.

“Yeah, soon,” Bradley replied, his voice flat. “We’re meeting at that bar.”

Max nodded, though a bitter knot tightened in his chest. It wasn’t just about Tank. He could deal with Tank. Hell, he liked Tank.

But it was the space Bradley was taking. The fact that Bradley had his own life outside of them, his own friends, his own freedom. Max was supposed to be okay with it. Bradley deserved it. But that didn’t mean Max didn’t feel that familiar ache, that gnawing frustration that came with watching Bradley slip further away.

“Of course,” Max said, his voice casual, even though his insides were anything but. “You have every right to hang out with your friends.”

Bradley looked at him for a beat longer than necessary, and Max couldn’t quite read the look in his eyes. It was like Bradley was trying to figure him out, but Max quickly looked away, pretending to focus on his mug, to give the impression that nothing was wrong.

“I just—” Max hesitated but then quickly waved it off. “You don’t need to check in with me every time, Bradley. It’s fine.”

Bradley raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t fully buy the words. “You sure?”

“Yeah, of course.” Max forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow to his own ears. “You’ve got your life, and I’ve got mine. Not like we need to be up each other’s asses all the time, right?”

Bradley studied him for a moment longer, and Max could see the wheels turning in his head, the way he was deciding if he should press further. But after a long pause, he just nodded, though there was a softness in his expression that Max couldn’t interpret.

“Okay,” Bradley said quietly. “I’ll see you later then.”

Max barely managed a stiff nod as Bradley grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. His chest tightened, but he forced the feeling down. Bradley had every right to have his space. Every right to have his friends, to be his own person. Max didn’t own him, and that was something he had to keep reminding himself. It didn’t mean the jealousy didn’t gnaw at him, though.

Before Bradley could open the door, he paused and turned back, walking over to Max. For a moment, Max was too stunned to move as Bradley cupped his face gently, his thumb brushing against Max’s cheek.

“Hey,” Bradley said softly. “Love you.”

Max didn’t have time to react before Bradley leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. It was sweet and brief, but it was enough to make Max’s heart skip a beat, even if he didn’t want it to. Bradley pulled away with a small smile, his eyes holding a quiet reassurance.

“See you later, okay?”

Max nodded, trying to suppress the mix of emotions that flooded him. “Yeah. Later.”

As Bradley opened the door and stepped out, Max was left standing there, his hand still lingering at his lips where Bradley’s kiss had just been. His heart was pounding in his chest, the familiar ache now accompanied by the warmth of Bradley’s affection. Max closed his eyes for a moment, letting the feeling settle, but it didn’t quiet the voice in his head.

Bradley was still slipping away, wasn’t he? That kiss didn’t change it. But it didn’t mean he didn’t feel something when Bradley said those words, something deep inside that he tried to ignore.

He wasn’t scared. Not of losing him. Not really. But Max couldn’t help it. That jealousy still lingered, clawing at him from the inside. And it was only a matter of time before it boiled over.

Max had been sitting on the couch for hours, the apartment eerily quiet except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. Bradley had said he’d be home by 11 PM, but now it was well past 2 AM. Max had tried to focus on something else, but his thoughts kept circling back to Bradley.

He hated this feeling—the tightness in his chest that seemed to grow with every minute that passed. He’d promised Bradley that he wouldn’t check his location anymore. That he’d respect Bradley’s need for time to himself, even if it made him uncomfortable. Bradley had said it was important for him to have moments away, that he didn’t want to feel smothered. Max understood that… logically. But emotionally, it was harder to swallow.

Max had broken the promise once before, checking Bradley’s location when he was out with his friends. He hadn’t said anything about it afterward, but the guilt gnawed at him. He wasn’t supposed to need to know where Bradley was every second of the day. He wasn’t supposed to care, not in the way he did.

Still, as the clock ticked on, his resolve was slipping. He could feel his phone burning a hole in his pocket. His thumb hovered over the screen for a split second, but he stopped himself. No. He promised. He wouldn’t do it.

He had to trust Bradley. He had to trust that Bradley was out with Tank and the guys and not somewhere else. But it was hard. Every passing hour was a reminder that Max was sitting here, alone, while Bradley was out having fun without him. The thought of him laughing and smiling without Max made a knot form in his stomach.

He swallowed hard when he finally heard the unmistakable sound of the door creaking open. His heart jumped into his throat, and he held his breath as heavy, unsteady footsteps echoed down the hallway. Max’s eyes flicked to the clock again. 2:15 a.m.

Bradley stumbled into the living room, his body swaying, his face flushed, and his breath smelling like whiskey and beer. His usually sharp eyes were unfocused, and his movements were slow and uncoordinated as he tried to stand straight.

Max froze, his chest tightening as he watched Bradley wobble before slumping down against the wall, still grinning like an idiot. “Hey, Max…” Bradley slurred, barely able to keep his balance. “What’s up? I, uh… I thought I was back earlier, but the time, you know, it… it got away from me.” He giggled to himself, a loose, unsteady laugh that felt like it was coming from someone Max didn’t recognize.

Max didn’t move. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to scream, to demand where the hell Bradley had been, but all the anger he was feeling was stuck somewhere deep in his throat. Bradley wasn’t in a state to understand. He could barely string two words together, let alone process an argument.

Bradley’s gaze finally landed on Max, his smile lopsided. “I… I think I went to the bar… but, like… it was a weird bar. You know? They had, like, frogs. Frogs, Max. And I don’t even like frogs. Who the hell… who the hell wants frogs at a bar, right?” He let out a loud, hiccuping laugh, completely oblivious to Max’s tense, clenched jaw.

Max took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest, doing everything he could to suppress the urge to yell. He could feel his heart racing, and his fists were shaking, but he swallowed it all down. It wasn’t Bradley’s fault, not really. He’d just had too much to drink. That was all. And Max had no right to be angry.

“Yeah, frogs at a bar,” Max said, his voice cold and tight, his teeth grinding as he tried to keep his tone steady. “You okay?”

Bradley, still swaying, squinted at Max like he was trying to focus, but his eyes kept darting around, unfocused. “I’m fine, Max. Just… you know. Had to… talk about life, man. Like, I was thinking about the universe. What if… what if the universe is, like, one big cloud, and we’re all just little specks of dust floating around, but like… we can’t see each other?” Bradley paused, his eyes wide as he tried to make sense of his own thoughts, the words slurring together. “But we are all connected. Like… it’s crazy, right?”

Max stared at him, unable to understand a single word he was saying. His mind was racing, swirling with a mix of anger and hurt that he didn’t know how to handle. How could Bradley be so careless? How could he not even care enough to respond to his texts?

Max clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, but he kept his voice even. “Yeah. That’s… deep, Brad.”

Bradley continued to babble, his words completely out of sync with reality. “I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore,” he said, his voice falling to a quiet, almost childlike tone. “But, uh… I love you, Max. You know that, right? Like, you’re my favorite person. Ever. In the whole world. Even more than frogs.”

Max felt the bitterness rise in his throat. Bradley was so drunk that he couldn’t even recognize what he was doing—what he’d put Max through by disappearing without a word. But Bradley was still mumbling about frogs and the universe, still laughing like everything was fine. Max felt his patience snapping, but he held it back, biting down on his anger.

“Yeah, I know,” Max said, his voice tight. He could barely breathe through the frustration. “I love you too.”

Bradley grinned again, his head lolling back against the wall. “You’re my boyfriend, Max. No one else gets me like you do. You… you’re like… like my soulmate or something.”

Max didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The words were stuck. He wanted to shake him, to demand an answer for why he’d been out all night, but he knew it would do no good. Bradley was too far gone.

Instead, Max bent down and gently helped him to his feet, his hands brushing against Bradley’s skin, still holding the anger in check. He guided him to the bed, his heart pounding with a frustration he couldn’t let out.

“You should sleep,” Max muttered, his voice quieter than he meant. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Max guided Bradley to the bed, his movements slow and gentle as he tried to keep his boyfriend steady. Bradley’s body swayed in Max’s grip, his eyelids heavy, his speech slurring even more as he muttered about the universe, or maybe about frogs again. Max’s frustration was still simmering, but he held it down. Bradley was drunk—too drunk—and he was beyond the point of making sense. He could handle it. He always did.

Max helped Bradley sit on the edge of the bed, watching him closely. Bradley’s face twisted into an uncomfortable grimace, and his eyes darted around as if he was trying to focus but couldn’t.

“I—” Bradley’s voice cracked, and he gagged, the sound so sudden that it jolted Max’s heart.

Max’s breath caught in his throat. His hands immediately went to Bradley’s back, rubbing it lightly, trying to help, to keep him steady. “Hey, hey, you alright?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

But Bradley wasn’t alright. The gagging became more frantic, and before Max could even process it, Bradley heaved violently, struggling to hold it in. His hands went to his mouth, but it was too late. He was already vomiting all over the bed, the mess spilling across the sheets in an awful splatter.

Max froze. His heart sank, but he didn’t hesitate. He quickly moved to Bradley’s side, his own stomach twisting in reaction, but he kept himself composed. He was the one who needed to be calm right now. Bradley didn’t need his anger; he needed someone to help him.

“God, Bradley…” Max muttered under his breath. He was going to run to the bathroom to grab a trash can or some towels, but the vomit kept coming, and he knew it would be too late. There was no way to avoid it now.

Max swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he placed one on Bradley’s back, gently patting him as his body jerked from the force of his vomiting. Bradley’s eyes were squeezed shut, his face flushed, trying to catch his breath in between gasps. His voice came out weak, barely a whisper. “Sorry, Max… didn’t mean—didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” Max said quickly, the words coming out before he could stop them. Max tried to ignore the sting in his chest—the anger he was still swallowing down. This wasn’t how he wanted to spend his night. He wanted Bradley sober, wanted him focused. But here he was, cleaning up the mess that wasn’t even his fault, wiping away the traces of Bradley’s drunkenness, all while fighting the urge to snap.

“It’s fine, Bradley. Just—just breathe. It’s okay.” He rubbed Bradley’s back again, trying to soothe him as he continued to gag and cough.

Bradley looked like he might collapse at any moment, but Max stayed by his side, not letting him fall. He waited for the worst of it to be over.

Once it had passed, the room smelled terrible, but Max didn’t care. Bradley needed him now. Max gently wiped at Bradley’s mouth with the edge of a blanket, his fingers shaking slightly. He was careful, almost tender, even though his insides were a mess. The anger and frustration were still there, simmering beneath the surface, but all Max could focus on was making sure Bradley was okay.

“Come on,” Max said softly, trying to keep his voice steady, despite the tension in his chest. He slipped one arm beneath Bradley’s shoulder, supporting him as best as he could. “Let’s get you to the bath. We’ll clean this up.”

Bradley’s head lolled against Max’s shoulder as they made their way to the bathroom. Max’s mind was a whirl of conflicting emotions, but he focused all of it on getting Bradley to the tub. He didn’t want him lying in the mess. Not like this.

Max turned the water on, making sure it was warm enough but not too hot. He helped Bradley sit down on the edge of the tub, and the faint smell of alcohol still lingered on him, mixing with the remnants of what he had thrown up. Max’s stomach turned at the scent, but he pushed it aside.

“Sit still for a second,” Max said, trying to steady Bradley as best as he could. He grabbed a washcloth, wetting it and gently wiping Bradley’s face.

Bradley’s eyes fluttered open, barely focusing on Max. "Max..." His voice was thick and slurred, full of confusion.

Max exhaled a sharp breath, brushing back a lock of Bradley’s hair. “I’m here, okay? Just relax for a minute.” He rubbed the cloth over Bradley’s forehead, feeling the heat of his skin.

Bradley nodded, his face pale and flushed at the same time. Max took a moment to just look at him, the weight of everything crashing over him—Bradley’s behavior, his own unspoken feelings, the isolation he often felt despite being together. But for now, none of that mattered. He needed to take care of Bradley.

After a few more minutes of helping Bradley clean up, Max carefully guided him into the tub, making sure he didn’t slip. Bradley’s body felt heavy, limp with drunkenness, and Max had to hold him steady while he rinsed off the lingering mess.

Max didn’t know how long it took, but eventually, he got Bradley cleaned up enough to at least feel comfortable. He helped him out of the bath, wrapping him in a towel and leading him back to the bedroom. His anger hadn’t disappeared, but Max was doing his best to keep it buried. Bradley didn’t need to see that.

When they got back to the bed, Max settled Bradley against the pillows, tucking him in before quickly stripping the soiled sheets from the bed. His movements were efficient, almost mechanical, but his mind was still a whirlwind of emotions.

Once the clean sheets were in place, Max returned to Bradley’s side, sitting next to him on the bed, still unsure of how to navigate the mess of his own feelings. He rested a hand on Bradley’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths, and pushed all the frustration down as best as he could.

“Just sleep, alright?” Max murmured softly, brushing his thumb over Bradley’s forehead. “You’re okay.”

Bradley’s eyes fluttered open again, just barely, enough to catch Max’s gaze. “Sorry… Max… I didn’t… mean to.”

Max shook his head, his hand gently resting on Bradley’s shoulder. “No need to apologize, Brad,” he whispered, his voice low and soothing, despite the tightness in his chest. “Just get some rest. We’ll talk later.”

As Bradley’s breathing deepened, Max stayed by his side, quietly watching him sleep. Max kissed against Bradley's head.

The anger still simmered beneath the surface, but for now, all that mattered was getting through this night.

It is almost 4 am.

Max sat on the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off the side, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. He could feel the weight of the room pressing in around him—silent, suffocating, but oddly familiar. Bradley lay next to him, sprawled across the bed in the deep, unbothered sleep of someone who had drunk too much. His face was peaceful, but it only made Max’s chest tighten. It wasn’t peace he felt—it was possessiveness. The sharp, aching need to own this moment, to own Bradley, to make sure nothing could ever tear them apart.

Max’s eyes traced the soft curve of Bradley’s jaw, the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed, the mess of hair that fell into his eyes. Every little detail was something Max felt like he had a right to claim. His. His boyfriend. His to protect. His to hold on to.

He wanted to touch him. Wanted to reach out, run his fingers through Bradley’s hair, to make sure that nothing, no one, would take him away. Max had seen the way other people looked at Bradley, the way they hovered around him, trying to get his attention. His stomach churned at the thought. He hated the way people made Bradley laugh or smile when it wasn’t him who could cause it.

Max swallowed hard, the bitterness in his throat rising. Bradley had been distant tonight, barely paying attention to him, and Max could already feel the edges of jealousy gnawing at him. It wasn’t fair—he knew it wasn’t—but he couldn’t stop it. He never could. He just wanted to keep Bradley safe, wanted to make sure he was his, always.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes still fixed on Bradley. A slow, steady breath escaped him. His fingers twitched, like they were itching to reach out and pull Bradley closer to him. Maybe shake him awake, demand his attention, and make him stay with him.

Max hated this feeling. It gnawed at him, the desire to possess and keep, to know Bradley was never going to be out of his reach. He couldn’t shake it. The constant fear that Bradley might slip away. That someone else might slip in, take what was his.

Bradley shifted in his sleep, turning his head slightly, his hand brushing against Max’s. Max froze, then slowly, carefully, guided Bradley’s hand back toward him. He watched as Bradley’s fingers curled into a loose fist, his sleep-drunken body too unaware to resist. Max’s chest tightened again, but this time with a more twisted satisfaction. At least this he could control. At least in this moment, Bradley was his.

Max’s fingers brushed lightly against Bradley’s hand, holding it, but not too tightly—just enough to remind himself that he could.

He swallowed down the flood of emotions rising in his chest. He wasn’t going to let go. He wasn’t going to let Bradley slip through his fingers.

Not now.

Not ever.

Max’s eyes narrowed as he studied Bradley’s sleeping form. He was his. And he would always make sure of it.

Slowly, as the tension in his chest began to loosen, Max let himself move closer to Bradley. His fingers remained locked with Bradley’s as he stretched out, carefully lying down beside him. The bed creaked under his weight, but Bradley didn’t stir.

As Max settled, he pulled Bradley closer, his arm sliding naturally around him. Bradley, still deep in his intoxicated sleep, unconsciously cuddled into Max’s arms. The warmth of Bradley’s body pressed against his felt like a quiet assurance, a fragile moment of intimacy that Max clung to with everything he had.

Max’s heart softened, a wave of affection flowing through him as Bradley’s head settled on his chest. He closed his eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of Bradley’s skin, the weight of the moment grounding him. For once, the possessiveness didn’t feel suffocating—it felt like a bond.

A connection.

A promise.

Max lay there, his fingers still tangled with Bradley’s, holding him close as the world outside seemed to fade away.

In that moment, everything was right.