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Chapter Text

Life at college was a whole new haven for Max Goof, the champion of the X-Games and proud overthrower of the Gamma Mu Mus. Everyone knew his name, even the seniors, and the teachers no longer reprimanded him for skating in the hallways. And not to mention, the girls were lined up for a chance to speak with the Max Goof . 

Unfortunately, that was not how it was for Bradley Uppercrust III. Ex -president of the Gamma Mu Mus. 

After his shenanigans at the X-Games, he had a lot of consequences to face, starting with a lifetime ban from competing in any sort of school event. Then the school proceeded to forcibly remove his title as president and had been on the verge of expelling Bradley before his father, Bradley Uppercrust II, stepped in. 

So instead of expulsion and imprisonment, Bradley Uppercrust III was assigned to give out sincere apologies to all the involved parties as well as court-mandated therapy. His father was not happy about this. 

“Not only do I have to pay off the college for the destruction,” Bradley’s father hissed at him over the tinny speaker of his phone, “but I also need to pay the Gammas, the Goofs, the news station, and this stupid therapy!” 

Bradley sighed, wincing as the air left his bruised lungs and scraped out of his tender throat in a whoosh of pain. After Tank had shot Bradley into that news blimp, Bradley had suffered a lot of injuries. 

He had broken his leg, fractured his ribs, sprained his wrist, and had even managed to give himself a concussion, not to mention scraped and bruised almost every square inch of his body. 

That was on top of the nasty black eye and knocked out a tooth that Goofy had given him with that supposedly “Lucky Horseshoe” of his. 

“Who the hell even goes to therapy?” Bradley’s father shouted through the phone in Bradley’s lap. “How can I even call you an Uppercrust? How can I even call you my son? ” 

Bradley swallowed, the lump in his throat having nothing to do with his injuries. 

“Father, I-” 

“ Do not call me your father! ” Bradley flinched, snapping his jaw closed automatically. His jaw still ached from where his tooth was knocked out. “You better straighten up your act, Bradley! Not a single hair of yours should be out of place, or so help me, I will send you straight to hell!” 

And with those lovely parting words, Bradley’s father hung up. The echo of his words seemed to reverberate around the room. Or perhaps that was just his concussion. 

Bradley sighed again, this time not even bothering to wince at the pain searing through his body. 

He was a disappointment to his father, and he knew it. He didn’t know why he had hoped that his father had been calling him to see if he was alright. Now Bradley just felt like an idiot for brightening when his phone buzzed with his father’s name. 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid ,” he muttered to himself. 

He tried lying down, but the hospital bed he was in was still stuck in an upright position. Bradley tried to reach down to fix his bed with his good hand when a sharp pain made him hiss through his teeth. 

The IV the nurse had left in his arm was protesting his movement, and was starting to piss Bradley off. He wanted so badly to rip out the needle, kick the tall stand holding the saline bag, rip the sheets from the bed, but he couldn’t. 

He was in enough trouble already, and his father had just told him not to fuck up. 

So instead, Bradley smashed his braced hand onto the call button. 

Static buzzed through the attached speaker before- 

“Yes? How may we help you?” 

“I-” 

Bradley paused. 

An Uppercrust never asks for help. 

An Uppercrust never loses. 

“Nothing,” Bradley snapped instead. “I don’t need anything.” 

“Alright,” the nurse on the other end said tiredly. 

A click sounded, signalling that the nurse on the other side had ended the call, probably to answer another complaining patient’s call. 

Bradley slouched, ignoring his body’s various complaints of pain as well as the small voice in his head (that sounded suspiciously similar to his father’s voice) that told him, An Uppercrust doesn’t slouch!  

He was tired and so done with all the shit in his life. He just wanted to sleep, perhaps for eternity. 

Bradley slid down the bed, curling onto his less-injured side, his left arm hanging uncomfortably off the edge of the bed to avoid twisting the IV stuck in the crook of his elbow. 

Bradley wanted to cry. 

An Uppercrust doesn’t cry . 

Bradley felt weak. 

An Uppercrust doesn’t show weakness . 

Bradley felt like a fucking failure. 

An Uppercrust doesn’t-  

“SHUT UP!” Bradley shouted, slamming his heavy hand over his head. 

His skull throbbed with pain from the impact, but at least the voice had quieted. 

Oh, the shithole he had dug for himself… 

Fuck you, Maxmilian Goof , was the last though Bradley had before falling into a slightly medicated yet still painful slumber. 

On the winning side of the X-Games, things were passing by better than ever. Of course, PJ had a nice crack in his arm, Bobby’s ears were still clogged with mud, and Max felt like he had been smoking for years after that fire. But they were finally popular . 

“Yo, Maxmilian,” Bobby called from his bed in their dorm room as Max opened the door. “Did ya get the girl’s number?” 

“What girl?” Max asked, tossing his keys onto his desk, not caring that they crashed into his haphazardly piled textbooks and dropped to the floor, just barely missing the overflowing trash bin. 

“Y’know,” Bobby said, letting his head hang upside down from the edge of his bed. “That girl with the pink hair and the choker?” 

“Huh?” Max asked, frowning. 

How did Bobby know Harper?  

“Dude,” Bobby asked, sitting up and pulling a bag of chips out from under his pillow. He shoved a handful into his mouth before speaking. “I just saw you talking to her. Don’t play dumb, dude.” 

“O-oh,” Max said as realization hit him. It was his fault for talking to anyone outside of his dorm, especially within eyeshot of the window. “That’s just Harper. And no , Bobby, I’m not gonna date her.” 

Bobby blew a raspberry, crumbs of his chips flying all over his bed. “Boo, buzzkill .” 

“She has a girlfriend , dude,” Max said, pulling his shirt off to change into his usual sleep shirt: a simple white tank. 

“And?” Bobby asked. 

Max rolled his eyes. “She’s taken , not to mention a lesbian .” 

“Alright, alright,” Bobby said, raising the chip bag up with his hands as if to say surrender. “Chill. I’m just messing.” 

Max rolled his eyes again before his gaze settled out the window. 

The sun was setting, casting an orange-pink glow over the boys and their room. Soon, the leaves on the glowing trees would match the color of the sunset. But with every passing day that brought autumn closer, midterms drew nearer, too. 

Max sighed, checking the clock on his desk. “If we still wanna see Peej before the day ends, we need to leave now.” 

“Sure, Max,” Bobby said, hopping lazily from his bed, depositing the half-empty chip bag on his sheets. “Let’s visit our poor wittle Peej.” 

With a drunken-sounding laugh, Bobby grabbed his jacket and moved for the door. 

After a beat, Max moved to follow, grabbing his jacket from the back of his desk chair before bending to pick up his room keys. 

The X-Games had been an event of mixed emotions, but out of all of Team 99, PJ had it worst. After Bradley’s stunt of shooting PJ into the next century, the poor guy was stuck in the hospital for two weeks. 

It was nearly seven in the evening by the time Max and Bobby arrived at the college hospital. Luckily, they still had an hour before visiting hours would officially end. 

“Hey, Peej, my man!” Bobby called as he sauntered into PJ’s hospital room, his rollerblades hanging from his fist. “They still got you bedridden, I see? Don’t worry; we brought pizza!” 

“Nice to see you too, Bobby,” PJ called from his bed. “Hey, Max.” 

“Hey, dude,” Max replied, closing the door behind him for privacy as he set his skateboard by the two plastic chairs pressed against the wall. “Where’s Mocha?” 

“She just left, actually,” PJ told them as Bobby dropped his skates by Max’s board. “She has a night shift at the Bean Scene today.” 

“Bummer,” Bobby said as he fell into one of the plastic chairs and opened the pizza box. “She’s missing out on all this cheesy goodness!” 

He pulled a piece from the circle, the cheese pulling along with his slice. With a snap of his teeth, Bobby cut the gooey string and continued to slurp up the cheese before chomping on the actual slice. 

“Any news about your arm?” Max asked as he pulled a slice for himself and held the box out for PJ. 

“Yeah, actually,” PJ said as he grabbed a piece. “Today’s my last day here. They’re letting me leave in the morning, sometime around 10, I think.” 

“Right in time for the math test on Monday,” Max teased around a mouthful of cheese and pizza. 

PJ groaned. “Of course…” 

Eventually, when visiting hours came to an end, Max and Bobby were shooed out by a nurse. PJ waved with his good arm at them through the open door as the nurse gently (yet sternly) guided the boys out. 

“See you tomorrow, Peej!” Max called as he and Bobby waved goodbye back. 

They turned, heading for the elevator, when a gasp made Max pause. He turned, curious at who had gasped and at what , but all he saw was the door at the end of the hallway slamming shut. 

His eyes narrowed before he decided he didn’t care. So, with a shrug, he turned back around and started to follow Bobby back to the elevator. 

It was late by the time they skated up to the front door of their dorm building. They rolled to a stop before entering and taking the stairs up to the third floor. 

Bobby had left his keys in the room (quite typical of him), so Max unlocked the door for them both. Once inside, Max pulled his jeans and shoes off, dropping them by his desk and hanging his jacket back up on his chair. 

He was tired after a long day of classes and skating practice, so it wasn’t long before he fell asleep in his bed, tucked under the warm covers. 

The next morning was Saturday, so both boys took the opportunity to sleep in. At half past nine, Max finally lifted his head from the feathery wonder of his pillow. 

“Bobby,” he called as he pushed off his blankets and checked the time. Bobby didn’t stir. “Dude.” 

When Bobby still didn’t stir, Max picked up one of Bobby’s possibly clean shirts from the floor and threw it at the sleeping guy. 

“Mmph!” 

“Dude,” Max called calmly. “Come on, time to get ready.” 

“Duuude,” Bobby called, throwing the shirt off of his face and pulling the covers over his face. 

“Bobby,” Max replied as he pulled a fresh pair of jeans up over his hips. “Don’t you wanna be there when PJ is finally released from the hospital?” 

“Ugh…” Bobby groaned before finally sitting up. He pulled the shirt that Max had thrown at him over his head, rubbing his eyes. 

“Let’s go,” Max said as he pulled off his sleep shirt and replaced it with a hoodie that had the sleeves torn off. 

He grabbed both his and PJ’s skateboards and started for the door. He paused for a moment to grab his keys and shove them into the back pocket of his jeans. 

Max didn’t wait for Bobby to finish pulling his jeans on before he opened the door and started down the hallway. 

“Come on,” Max called once more, right before Bobby came rolling out of the room, just barely grabbing onto the door handle and shutting it behind him. 

In seconds, Bobby had passed Max in a blur. 

“Come on, Maximilian!” Bobby called as he grabbed the edge of the corner and turned to rollerblade down the stairs. 

Of course, being the competitive boy he was, Max wasn’t about to pass up on this challenge. 

“You’re on!” Max muttered under his breath with a smug smirk. 

He tucked PJ’s board under his arm before rolling his own onto the hallway in front of him. Jumping on, Max quickly followed after his roommate. 

Max copied Bobby’s move, grabbing onto the corner as he turned to make his chaotic way down the stairs. The rush of adrenaline was pulsing through his veins, pressing him onward like another trophy could be gained from winning. 

He leapt past the groups of stairs, using the railings to turn corners and keeping an eye out for students that might just happen to get in his way. Most were already weary, pressed against the wall with looks of shock plastered on their faces, most likely courtesy of Bobby. Which, of course, meant that he wasn’t that far behind. 

Turning the second to last corner, Max caught a glimpse of Bobby’s black and gray blades. A smile lifted the corners of Max’s pierced lips. 

With a risky leap, Max grabbed the rail and launched himself high, high, high above anything he had done since the X-Games. It was risky, but it worked; Max soared past Bobby, landing by the front door and coming to a skidding stop. 

He leaned proudly by the door, smirking back at Bobby as the ginger came to a frustrated stop beside him. 

“Damn!” he said good naturedly. “Thought I had you for sure , Max!” 

Max only laughed. “Can’t beat the X-Games champion!” 

Bobby punched Max lightly in the shoulder. 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Bobby warned teasingly. “Come on, dude.” 

And with that, the two pushed open the doors and made their way to the hospital. Students smiled, waved, held out their hands for a high-five as Max passed by them in a whoosh of wind. Even Bobby slapped a few hands as they made their way through the college. 

Eventually, they made it to the hospital, just in time to see PJ and Mocha step out the glass front doors. 

“Peej!” Bobby called, coming to a stop as he draped his arm around his newly released friend. “How’s it feel to be a free man?” 

“I was never an imprisoned man, dude,” PJ replied, tossing Bobby’s arm off of him. 

Bobby shrugged. “Still, man, how’s it feel? ” 

PJ shrugged, but a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “It’s nice to be able to use both arms, I’ll tell you that,” he said, rolling his arm. 

“Feel up for a skate?” Max asked, holding out PJ’s board. 

PJ’s face visibly lit up. “Sweet, dude!” he exclaimed, reaching out for the board in Max’s hand. “Thanks!” 

“No problem, Peej,” Max said. “Hey, Mocha.” 

“Hey, boys,” Mocha said in her sultry voice as she clung onto PJ’s good arm. “The freedom you mention is true. A gift of time and the magic of the body.” 

She turned to her boyfriend and pressed her bright fuchsia lips to PJ’s cheek. Then she proceeded to unhook her arm from PJ’s and gave the three boys a wave. 

Bobby raised his eyebrows at PJ’s blush, and even Max gave the guy a teasing smirk. 

“Shut up,” PJ said to the both of them, blushing darker. 

“Try saying that without lipstick on your cheek,” Max said, gesturing to the lip print on PJ’s face. 

PJ scowled, blushing even darker as he scrubbed at his cheek. 

With a shared chuckle from Bobby and Max, the three turned and automatically headed for the skate park on campus. Little did they know, four floors up, they were being watched. 

Bradley rubbed his face around his half-healed black eye. It still throbbed, but out of everything, it hurt the least. And for some reason, Bradley couldn’t handle that. 

He glowered out the window, hiding behind the white curtains as he watched Max and his friends as they fooled around and had fun. 

A pang went through his chest that had nothing to do with his fractured ribs. He didn’t know what it was and refused to even think about it. He had enough shit on his plate to deal with. 

As the boys rolled away, pushing each other playfully and laughing, Bradley stepped back from the window.

Chapter Text

It was as if the hospital was trying to get rid of all its patients because the very day PJ was let free to go to his dorm (under many instructions and safety precautions, of course), Bradley was told he would be free to leave the next day. 

“Let’s take a good last look at you,” the doctor said, a handsome man with dirty blond hair and glasses perched high on his thin nose. 

He checked the scans and x-rays of Bradley’s various injuries, seeming satisfied at the improvement. 

“Your fractures seem to have healed nicely,” he said with a small smile as he looked up at Bradley. “I’d still suggest staying off your leg and watching your head, but other than that, you seem to be well enough to go back home!” 

Bradley bit back a groan. Not only did he feel nowhere near fit to go back home, but he also didn’t quite know where he would go. 

And being released from the hospital meant that he would finally need to begin his mandatory therapy. He was not thrilled. 

“I’ll prescribe you some pain meds for when things get bad,” the doctor said, scribbling a few things down, “but should anything happen, tell someone and try to get here as fast as possible.” 

With a parting smile, the doctor muttered a few words to the nurse before leaving. 

The nurse then proceeded to retape Bradley’s ribs, check his wrist brace, rebandage his just barely aching leg, and swap out all of the hardly-necessary bandages on his various pretty-much-healed cuts. 

Bradley just sat there, feeling like a little dress up doll, but too weak to protest. He didn’t want to be at the hospital any longer, but at the same time, he didn’t want to leave. 

But he knew he had to. He had to face the consequences for all he’d done. 

When the nurse finally left, thankfully bringing down the bed so that Bradley could sleep, he got out of bed and limped back over to the window. 

Max and his friends had long since left, but Bradley couldn’t help but let himself get drawn back. It was as if he was hoping someone would arrive, excited for him to be released. 

Bradley scoffed at himself, yanking the curtains closed forcefully. What the hell was he thinking? No one wanted to see him, let alone liked him. The only reason anyone would be excited for his release would be the chance to get their rightful revenge. 

And so Bradley forced himself to sleep, trying to let the meds attached to his arm work. 

The next morning, the quiet aches throughout his body woke him. Bradley had eventually gained the habit of barely moving during his sleep, what with the needle stuck in his arm. It left him stiff and sore in the mornings, but it was better than having a needle roughly ripped through his arm. 

He had just rolled over onto his back when a knock came at his door, not a moment before it opened. Bradley had quickly gotten used to this; the nurses knocked to let the patients inside know that they had about two seconds before the nurses entered. At least, this had been Bradley’s experience for the weeks he had been there. 

“Let’s get you checked one last time before we let you go,” the nurse said as she brought in a whole bunch of bandages and ointment. 

Bradley just sat on the edge of his bed, his gaze blank as he let the nurse tend to him like a doll. How many times had he had to deal with these random ‘professionals’ touching his body? 

He shivered once. The nurse’s hands paused on his back.

“Sorry, love,” she said kindly. “It’s a bit cold.” 

“It’s fine,” Bradley bit out, his teeth clenched. 

He didn’t know what was worse, the sting of rubbing alcohol on his exposed wounds or having to respond so… kindly. 

Instead of forcing himself to think about it, Bradley closed his eyes and pretended none of this was happening. It was last year, before he met Max. Before he lost the games. Before he lost his friends. 

Bradley missed Tank. He finally admitted it to himself. He missed their old back and forth, Tank’s advice and help, the late nights just talking. It had been years since they met, back in their freshman year of high school when Bradley had finally complained enough to get his father to move him to a public school. 

They had never had a falling out this bad before. Bradley wasn’t sure if their relationship was going to survive. He wouldn’t blame Tank if their friendship was ruined. 

“Alright, then!” the nurse said, bringing Bradley back to the present. “I believe you’re free to go!” 

“Thanks…” Bradley said, trying to keep his sour tone out of his words as best as he could. 

“Do you have anyone to help you out?” she asked, handing Bradley a single crutch. 

Bradley took it awkwardly, trying to avoid hitting his taped ribs or twisting his still-sore wrist. 

“Uh, no,” he said, pausing slightly, avoiding the nurse’s gaze as he pretended to fiddle with the crutch. 

Bradley didn’t know why he feared this random nurse’s judgement. 

“That’s alright,” she said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “The hospital will call a cab for you, alright?” 

“Th-thanks,” Bradley repeated, unsure of why this lady was showing him kindness. He had done nothing to deserve it. “Are my clothes still here?” 

The nurse nodded, turning to open one of the drawers in the bedside table. She pulled out a fresh maroon sweater and khaki pants, handing them to Bradley before heading for the door. 

“I’ll be right outside,” she said. “Call me if you need assistance.” 

And then she left. 

Thank god, Bradley thought to himself as he one-handedly unfolded his clothes. 

He sat on the bed, pulling the hospital gown off swiftly before replacing it with his sweater. The pants were a bit more of a challenge to get on over the stiff brace on his leg, but he somehow managed. 

Using his crutch like… well, like a crutch, he made his way to the door, his bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Can I leave now?” Bradley asked, raising an eyebrow at the nurse still outside his door. 

“Of course,” she said with a still kind smile. Her kindness was starting to get on Bradley’s nerves. “Right this way.” 

She led him to the elevator, helping him get used to his crutch. Bradley had to resist the urge to rip his arm away from her because he knew he needed the assistance. 

The nurse had indeed called for a cab, Bradley found, which she helped him into. 

“Well, Bradley,” she said, handing Bradley his bag. “I hope not to see you again.” 

She winked with a smile before closing the door for him. 

Bradley didn’t respond, only adjusted his bag on his lap. 

“Gamma Mu Mu fraternity,” he said to the driver curtly. 

The man simply nodded and put the car into drive. Bradley turned to glare out the window as the man drove. 

For Bradley, the car ride was much too short. He wasn’t ready to face the Gammas, but all too soon, the cab pulled up in front of the house. 

It was quiet, sending a chill up Bradley’s spine as he exited the cab. He didn’t extend a word of gratitude; he just paid and turned towards the house. Behind him, he heard the cab drive off. 

With a steeling breath, Bradley used his key to open the front door and stepped inside. 

Once again, he was met with silence. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. 

Deciding that it didn’t matter—he’d have to face them eventually, but he couldn’t do that if they weren’t there—Bradley made his way up the stairs to his room. He pulled a second key from his keyring and opened his room, happy to find that no one had tampered with it. 

But that begged the question; where did the delivery of his clothes come from? 

Bradley frowned, dropping his bag on his bed before sitting heavily beside it. He knew he needed to unpack, but he needed a moment. 

His ribs ached, his wrist throbbed, and his leg felt clunky and stiff. Not to mention, all the mostly-healed scrapes over his body stung like hundreds of bee stings. 

Bradley sighed, reaching up to rub his black eye. It was mostly gone, leaving only a sickening yellow tinge around his eye, and the lack of pain was irritating him. 

He sighed before turning to his bag. He unzipped it, pulling his torn up but clean X-Games uniform from it and tossing it into his closet. Next was his helmet, which joined the uniform. 

Last was the big bag of pills. Or, more accurately, a big bag of several containers of various different meds. One was a painkiller (a hella strong one, Bradley was advised), another was a bunch of sleeping pills, and the third was a slightly milder painkiller. 

Bradley sighed again as he pulled the doctor’s instructions from the bag. He read through them half-heartedly before flinging both the bag and the paper onto his desk. 

His phone went off in his pocket, and Bradley scrunched his eyes closed. He carefully pulled it out with his right hand, silently praying that it wasn’t his father. 

When he did finally open his eyes, he was happy to find his wishes had been granted. Though, what was on the screen of his phone wasn’t much better. 

It was a notification from that stupid therapy app. 

‘Hello, Bradley! We here at Mountain Mental Health are excited to be a part of your journey! You are currently signed up for six months of therapy sessions, meeting up twice a week on Wednesdays and Fridays with Savanna. Please confirm here!’ 

The message was so cheery that Bradley had to put his phone down and rub his temples. A groan slipped out as he fisted his hands frustratedly in his hair. 

He tapped the little button that said ‘Yes!’ before tossing his phone behind him on the bed. 

It was Sunday, Bradley reminded himself, which meant that he had classes the next morning. 

Great… 

Monday was the only day of the week that Max and his friends had morning classes. He got out of bed, slapping his alarm clock off as PJ and Bobby groaned in their beds. 

Max quickly grabbed his clothes and his small box of piercings and slipped into the bathroom before the other two. It was a quick matter to change into a fresh red shirt and jeans, rolling his sleep clothes into a ball on the counter. 

Next was to put on his piercings. Max didn’t like to sleep with them in, not after the time when he had lost a backing from his favorite pair of earrings in his sleep. He had never found the backing and had ended up having to buy a replacement. 

And so Max carefully maneuvered his eyebrow piercing, snake bite piercings, and all three earrings back in. All of them were silver. 

After brushing his teeth and combing his hair, he finally excited the bathroom, much to Bobby’s relief. 

PJ was already waiting, fully dressed and packed for the day, texting his girlfriend with a silly smile on his face. Max rolled his eyes as he dumped his sleep clothes on his bed and grabbed his bag from where it was slung over his desk chair. 

“Hurry up, Bobby,” PJ called as he walked over to grab his skateboard, not taking his eyes off his phone. “Class starts in twenty minutes.” 

Max walked over to join PJ by the door, grabbing his own skateboard as he leaned back against the door. He pulled out his phone, his short attention span already giving him jitters. 

Eventually, the trio got to class, just in time to sit before the day’s lecture could begin. It was a long day of note takings, but eventually, classes ended. Afterwards, the trio made their way to the Bean Scene so that they could have coffee and support PJ’s girlfriend. 

Unfortunately, Max only shared his Monday and Wednesday classes with his friends; on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he was left to navigate his courses on his own. Luckily, the earliest of these classes alone was only at one in the afternoon, which meant he could sleep in and get a leisurely lunch before classes. 

He was fifteen minutes early, as usual, and was making his way to his usual seat by the back window when he stopped in his tracks. Because someone was already sitting in his usual seat. And not just any ‘someone’. 

Bradley Uppercrust III. 

Max frowned as he shifted the bag on his shoulder. He had several choices: take the seat behind Bradley so that he could remain in the warm sunlight of the window or find a seat on the opposite side of the lecture hall. But as he hemmed and hawed, more students filed into the classroom; if he didn’t want to lose that window seat, he’d have to take it. Now. 

So it was with a heavy sigh that Max continued on his way towards the back window. He avoided looking at Bradley as he dropped his things in the seat behind him. It wasn’t as great, with only a sliver of sunshine landing on his desk, but it was better than nothing. 

In front of him, Bradley had stiffened as soon as he noticed Max walk into the hall in his peripheral vision. He shifted his head so that he was resting his chin in his palm and staring out the window, silently praying that Max wouldn’t sit anywhere near him. 

Of course, his luck was all for shit. Of course, Max settled in the seat right behind him. Of fucking course. 

But as the minutes passed and the history lecture droned on, Max said nothing, did nothing. And slowly, Bradley’s shoulders relaxed and he began to take notes. 

It was a tedious, infuriating venture because his writing hand was still out of commission. His entire left side was still sore and bandaged as tightly as possible, all of it hidden underneath Bradley’s usual attire so that no one would know just how hurt Bradley had actually gotten. 

By the end of class, Bradley had given up trying to take physical notes on pen and paper in favor of typing whatever he needed onto a blank document on his laptop. Eventually, class ended, and Bradley let out a soft sigh of exhaustion. 

He began the tedious task of packing up his things as the other students around him bolted from the room like they couldn’t get out fast enough. Bradley stretched as he stood, rolling his tense shoulders before slinging his bag over his right shoulder. He ran a hand over his face and through his hair as he turned to exit through the back door closest to him. 

But he stopped in his tracks when he saw the desk behind him. Or, more accurately, Max dead asleep on the desk. 

Bradley blinked, not believing what his eyes were telling him because surely, surely, Max hadn’t slept through class. That would’ve been irresponsible and immature. 

But then Bradley remembered that this was Max Goof; of course he was irresponsible and immature. 

He scoffed and moved to pass him. If he wants to sleep, let him suffer the consequences, he thought to himself. But at the door, he paused. 

Glancing behind him, Bradley saw that the entire class was empty except for himself and the still slumbering Max. Bradley bit his lip, warring with himself. He shifted from foot to foot, though favoring his still pained braced leg for his right. 

It was with a heavy groan that Bradley came to his decision. 

He stalked back over to Max and took a steadying breath. Quickly—very very quickly—Bradley took Max’s shoulder and gave it a firm (but somehow gentle?) shake. Instantly, Max jolted awake with a gasp, and Bradley took that as a sign to turn and bolt. 

Without looking back, Bradley sprinted to the door and slammed his way outside, breaking into a hasty jog towards his next class. For some reason, his face felt warm. 

Back in the history lecture hall, Max sat there, blearily staring around. His eyes widened as he realized the hall was empty. He leapt to his feet and scrambled to gather his things. He checked his phone, letting out a huff of relief as he saw that he still had half an hour before his next class. 

As he made his way out of the hall, he frowned. He placed his hand on his shoulder, wondering who had woken him up. And why had they run? Because Max distinctly remembered that, in his hazy half-asleep state, he had felt someone shake his shoulder and had heard them run and burst out of the classroom, the door slamming open in their haste. 

But as Max walked, he saw no sign of anyone else. And silently, he wondered to himself with a furrowed brow, who was it?

Chapter Text

Eventually, Wednesday came, much to Bradley’s distaste. He followed the directions on the Mountain Mental Health app towards the office of his new therapist, Savanna. He grumbled as he drove his nondescript black car, half-heartedly clicking through the radio stations until something bearable played through the speakers. 

By the time he parked, he only had ten minutes before his session. With a hefty sigh, he entered the building, rode the elevator to the third floor, and approached the front desk. 

“Bradley Uppercrust III,” he said plainly to the lady at the front desk. She glanced up from her computer and pressed her glasses further up his nose. “Here for a five pm appointment with Savanna.” 

The lady smiled softly and clicked through something on her computer. “Ah, yes. Please sign this,” she told him, pushing a clipboard towards him. 

With another sigh, Bradley took the attached pen and printed his name in the first box, signed in the second, and wrote the time of his arrival in the third. When he finished, he set down the pen and wordlessly pushed the clipboard back towards the lady. She glanced at him and smiled. 

“Head down the hallway and through the second doorway on the right,” the lady at the desk said. “It’s marked with Savanna’s name, too, so you shouldn’t miss it.” 

Her bright smile didn’t dim as Bradley slowly nodded his understanding. Even as he passed the desk without so much as a second glance, her smile remained strong on her face. 

How anyone could be so happy even in the face of a rude jerk like Bradley was beyond him (and yes, he was well aware that he was a rude jerk; it took years of stress and practice to perfect). But he brushed it away as he walked down the hallway and stood in front of Savanna’s door. He took a deep breath, scowling at himself and his nerves before he raised his hand and knocked. 

“Come in!” came a bright, soft voice from inside the room. 

Bradley reached out to turn the knob and pushed open the door. And what he saw was… well, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

Savanna was a really tall woman with tanned skin and bright copper curls piled in a knot on the top of her head. And she was standing, one foot on her rolling office chair and the other on her desk, reaching up to fix the lights. There was a screwdriver in one hand and a light bulb in the other, which she was screwing in, with another light bulb between her teeth. 

Bradley stood in the doorway, wondering if he was in the right room. Because surely this wasn’t Savanna? Surely? 

“Alright,” this woman—who Bradley now doubted was Savanna—muttered around the light bulb in her mouth, jumping down from her desk and chair. She set the screwdriver on her desk before taking the light bulb from between her teeth and setting it beside the screwdriver. Then she turned to Bradley and asked, “Be a doll and flip on the lights, would you?” 

Bradley blinked at her before her words processed in his mind. “Oh. Sure,” he said, thoroughly confused as he looked down to flick on the light switch beside the doorway. 

As the lights blinked up, Savanna clapped her hands. “Wonderful!” 

Then she turned to push her chair behind the desk and put both the screwdriver and the not-in-use light bulb in a drawer. That was when she noticed that Bradley had not moved from his position in the doorway. She smiled warmly as she stepped around her desk to settle in a plush armchair. 

“Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the couch opposite her. “I assume you’re Bradley Uppercrust?” 

“The third, yes,” Bradley corrected automatically as his body stiffly followed her offer to sit. 

As she pulled out a white notebook covered in colorful flower patterns, she glanced up to see Bradley’s stiff position on the couch. She raised an eyebrow as the corners of her lips lifted. 

“You can relax, you know, Bradley,” she said softly. But when he didn’t move, she shrugged with a chuckle. “Or not. Totally your choice.” 

Bradley huffed at her nonchalant attitude. But nonetheless, he tried to make his shoulders relax. 

After a few scribbles in the little white notebook, Savanna looked up. “My name is Savanna, as you probably know, and I’ll be your therapist for the next six months.” 

She smiled kindly. It pissed Bradley off to no end. Why was everyone always so happy? It was fucking annoying… 

“Yup…” Bradley agreed, not knowing what else to say. 

And then he sat there. Silently. Not moving. At all. For a good minute. 

Eventually, Savanna sighed. “Well, how about you start by telling me about yourself?” she offered, crossing her hands over the top edge of her notebook. 

Bradley just looked at her for a long moment. And then sighed. 

“My name is Bradley Uppercrust III. I’m a junior at State University, double-majoring in pre-law and business. I used to be president of the Gamma Mu Mu fraternity. My favorite color is blue.” 

His words were dry, his voice void of any and all emotion. He might as well have been an automated robot with a programmed response to ‘tell me about yourself’ questions. 

But nonetheless, Savanna leaned in. She was the picture of an avid listener, her bright hazel eyes piercing into Bradley’s in a way that gave him the unsettling feeling that she could see straight through him. 

She nodded once he’d finished. “Okay, I guess you answered my question,” she said with a light chuckle at some inside joke Bradley was unaware of. “And it’s definitely a start!” 

Bradley bristled, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He leaned back on the soft beige couch, crossing his arms and his legs in a very closed-off way. 

Savanna totally didn’t note that down. 

“So!” Savanna closed her notebook and set it on her desk before weaving together her fingers and leaning forward. “How are you doing after the games?” 

Bradley eyed her for a moment. “Fine,” he bit out tersely. But her wide hazel eyes seemed to scream at him to elaborate, or so help him, he’d be stuck in her office for eternity. And he sighed. “Well, my leg hurts, I can’t sleep ’cause of my ribs, and my handwriting is shit with my right hand. And everything hurts.” 

Savanna nodded understandingly, not even batting an eye at Bradley’s use of profanity. “That makes sense.” She used her pen to gesture towards Bradley’s face. “It seems your bruises are healing quite nicely, though.” 

Bradley instinctively touched a few fingers to his eye. “Yeah,” he agreed, looking away from that oddly kind set of hazel eyes. 

Another silent pause. Savanna was quickly learning that she would probably need to initiate any sort of conversation. She didn’t mind, though. 

“How’s your school going?” she asked kindly, twirling her pen between her fingers. 

Bradley took a slow, deep breath, before sighing heavily. He winced at the pressure on his ribs, but spoke nonetheless. 

“Most of my professors have given me a pass on the work I missed so far, but they’re all pretty pissed from the games.” Bradley huffed, glaring at the hanging plant in the opposite corner of the room, beside the closed door. “Understandable, I guess.” 

And then silence. Again. 

This time, Savanna took a different approach. 

“Bradley, do you like to draw?” 

Bradley whipped his head around to look at her so fast, it made his head ache. But the shock automatically overrode the pain. 

“Huh?” he asked, not believing his own ears. Maybe he still had a concussion. 

“Or paint, or play music, or sing, or write?” 

She had such an innocent look on her face, Bradley couldn’t bring himself to sneer at her. He could, however, scoff at her ideas. 

“As if,” he scoffed, turning away from her big bright eyes. 

“Why?” 

Bradley’s gaze snapped right back towards her. “Why what?” 

“Why is it so ridiculous? The idea of participating in the arts?” 

Bradley raised an eyebrow at her. Why was it so ridiculous? “It’s a waste of time, energy, and money,” Bradley answered, the words a default response that was identical to what his father always said. 

“And what about your feelings?” Savanna asked, tilting her head to the side. “Are those a waste to invest in as well?” 

Bradley didn’t respond, but his answer was obvious in his silence. And Savanna nodded in understanding. 

“Well, I get it,” she said as she scribbled something else in her notebook. “But unfortunately for you, I’m here to make you feel all better.” 

She smiled at him. It was way too bright and happy and excited. Bradley swallowed. 

The rest of the session consisted of Savanna squeezing every last detail of Bradley’s life out of him. Nothing to do with the X-Games, thankfully, and anything else Bradley felt uncomfortable with, he simply avoided. 

But the worst part? He had homework. Homework! From fucking therapy! 

It really wasn’t that bad, but Bradley was still pissed as all fuck as he stormed from the building and drove back to the Gamma house. All he had to do was take four online tests on that same mental health app; each was only supposed to be ten or so minutes each. But still, that was like forty minutes! 

Bradley huffed a sigh as he made his way up to his room, locking his door behind him. 

His room had always been his safe place. From the door, his bookshelf and desk were pressed against the left side of the room. On the right was his wardrobe and the door leading to his own small bathroom. And against the opposite wall was his bed. 

He had long taken down any of his photos, and after the disaster of the previous X-Games, all of his trophies and plaques had been shoved in a box. He didn’t want any reminders of anything. 

Bradley hung up his keys on a hook above his desk before settling himself in his desk chair. He opened his computer before deciding to pull off his sweater—it was overstimulating. 

And then he sat there, staring at the bright screen of his computer. The little cursor blinked at him, telling him it was ready for him to type out his password and log in. 

Eventually, he did as his cursor was so kindly asking him to, and his literature essay materialized on his screen. He easily minimized the screen, then opened the Mountain Mental Health app. 

He might as well get the tests done with now, he thought. 

None of the four tests were labeled, but honestly Bradley didn’t give a shit. So he clicked on the first one and began to read the instructions. 

The tests themselves were rather repetitive. But after nearly forty minutes, he finished. The results didn’t show what it was for, only that he had completed them. 

With a shrug, Bradley closed his computer and stood to move over to his bed, where he flopped onto his back. 

He hadn’t felt so bad since back in high school, when his mom had died and he had his identity crisis. 

Bradley winced as all his buried memories came flooding back. The late nights sitting frozen at his desk in the cold, numb and unable to do anything. The hazy days that felt useless and seemed to blend into each other. 

Not to mention, his robot of a father demanded Bradley to keep up appearances. Attend parties, date around, smile for photos, all that dumb shit. 

And overnight, all the signs of Bradley’s mother’s existence were gone. Photos taken down, her favorite paintings replaced, the books she liked hidden away. All hints of her were gone, as if they had never been there in the first place. 

It was as if he didn’t even care about his wife. 

Those were the days that Bradley considered his lowest point. At least he had his best friend and his sister to help him. 

But now, he was alone. 

And he didn’t know what the fuck to do. 

Bradley sighed as he closed his eyes, trying his best to shove away the painful memories. Not like it worked, but Bradley had no other choice. It wasn’t as if he could talk to Tank, who still probably hated him. 

As he was wallowing in self pity, spiraling down to a dark place, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Bradley didn’t move, intending to ignore it. But then a second notification buzzed his phone. And then a third. 

And suddenly, his phone was blowing up in his pocket. 

Bradley groaned, pulling out without looking at it and throwing it across his bedroom. It bounced on the carpet twice before landing screen-up on the floor. 

The phone was still buzzing, the screen lighting up for a good few seconds before it went silent. 

But then the phone started vibrating again, his ringtone singing out. 

Bradley let out a groan that quickly grew into an aggravated shout. He pushed himself into a sitting position a bit rougher than necessary before standing and stomping over to the phone dancing on his floor. 

That was when he finally saw the name of the caller. 

“Shit,” he hissed as he immediately crouched and answered the call, bringing his phone to his ear. 

“Uh, hi?” he said as the call connected. 

“Baby Brady, what the fuck?” 

Bradley groaned at that damn nickname. “Hi, Cordelia,” he greeted in a deadpan voice. 

“Don’t ‘hi, Cordelia,’ me! You have a shitton to explain!” Bradley plopped to his floor and fell to his back, holding back another groan. “Why the goddamn fuck did you not tell me?!” 

“Tell you what?” Bradley asked, genuinely unsure of what she was asking. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” came her sarcastic voice. “The fact that you cheated? That you got fucking shot into a fucking blimp?” 

Bradley sighed. “I’m in mandated therapy, now. It’s fine.” 

“Well, how would I know that? You don’t tell me a mother-fucking thing!” 

“Cordelia-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Brady!” 

Bradley’s mouth snapped shut. 

There was the sound of very aggressive shuffling and some muffled curses on the other side of the call. Bradley silently wondered what the hell she was doing. 

His silent question was very quickly answered. 

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” 

Bradley blanched. “Wh-what?” 

“I’m coming to State University because Dad is a fucking bitch and you obviously can’t take care of yourself.” 

“What?!” Bradley shot to his feet. “Cordelia, I live in a fraternity! Y-you can’t-” 

“Fucking watch me,” she snapped. 

“N-no, wait, Delia,” Bradley said as he began to pace. “I-I... Where will you stay? Y-you can’t stay here. I-I... Delia!” 

“What?” she answered defiantly, the sound of an engine starting in the background. 

“Delia!” Bradley hissed urgently again. 

“What, Brady?” Cordelia repeated. “Fucking what?” 

“What the hell!” Bradley exclaimed. “I’m an adult! I’m not a kid anymore! I can take care of myself!” 

“Like hell you can!” Cordelia snapped. “Bradley, I was there when you were in high school. I fucking remember your sophomore year; it was fucking hell. And I hate myself every day that I didn’t notice the signs faster. I’m not doing that again. Try and stop me.” 

Bradley grew quiet as her words stirred his memories back to the surface of his mind. He finally stopped pacing, slowly lowering himself to sit on his bed. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he told her quietly. 

“I don’t care who’s fault it is,” she told him sternly. “I’m your big sister. Deal with it.”