Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The crowd was screaming Max’s name, and he absolutely loved it. He held his mic in the air triumphantly, allowing his fans to worship him until the final applause finally died down.

PJ sat behind him on the drums, twirling a drumstick around his fingers impressively.

Bobby stood to his left on bass. He was on his knees with his arms down to his sides, catching his breath.

Sweat dripped down the side of Max’s face, and his chest rose and fell with jagged breaths. His guitar was hanging from the strap around his neck, begging to be strummed again.

A gaggle of girls pressed against the barricade, reaching out towards him.

He flashed a toothy grin, no doubt causing a few deaths with his devilish good looks.

Bradley was sitting in the living room of the Gamma house, watching Max’s performance on TV with Tank and a few other Gamma members. He leaned forward in his seat to get a closer look at the screen. He had never heard their music before, but Tank and the others were constantly raving about him, and curiosity got the better of him.

The lights glinted off of Max’s piercings and jewelry, dazzling the crowd spectacularly. Rows of fans jumped and hollered, chanting for them to play just ‘one more song.’

….It was absolutely disgusting.

“This is the guy who just enrolled in State?” Bradley asked, feeling jealousy crawl menacingly up this throat.

Tank replied, “Yeah. Why?”

“I mean,” Bradley scoffed, “Look at him. Why on earth would all of those people pay tickets to see his show? Isn't this the guy who was on stage with Powerline all those years ago?”

“I think so,” Tank said, “His music is killer, baby. Why you hatin’, Bradley? I’m stoked to have him as a classmate.”

Bradley snapped to face Tank, shoving a finger in his face. “His music is horrible. Are you being serious?”

“Yeah, I’m being serious. You think we could get him to join the Gammas?”

“Tank, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Bradley said, sucking in a deep breath to keep his cool, “We’re not inviting someone like that to join the Gammas.”

In reality, Bradley only didn't want Max to join the Gamma’s due to how popular he was. Bradley was supposed to be the king of this campus. Why was Max able to stroll down the street and gain immediate fame all for playing some stupid instrument? It wasn't fair.

Bradley stared at the TV again, watching as Max spoke into the mic.

“Thank you, everyone!” Max rasped, running a hand through his messy hair. He was wearing a black mesh top, revealing his chiseled figure underneath his clothes. His fingernails were painted black, chipping slightly in places. Max continued to speak, “Daydream Flip is gonna be playing again next week at State to kick off the school year!”

“What did they just say their name was?” Bradley fumed, glaring at Tank.

“What? Daydream Flip?” Tank asked, clearly confused by Bradley’s anger.

“Yes - that! That’s a skating stunt… Do they skate, too?” He gripped the front of Tank’s shirt, desperately searching for a way to release his anger.

“I don't know, Bradley. Why are you so obsessed with them?” He carefully pried Bradley’s hand from the front of his top and pushed him away.

“I am NOT obsessed with them. I hate them,” Bradley corrected him.

“Why?”

“Stop asking me that!” Bradley shouted, grabbing the remote and clicking off the TV. He threw it down harshly onto the couch cushion, causing it to bounce off and hit the floor. He started up the stairs, unable to listen to them gush over the new student any longer. He entered his room and sat down on his bed, folding his arms and staring down at the hardwood floor, fuming with frustration.

Did his name truly mean nothing anymore? Was Max going to swoop in and steal his fame? He drummed his fingers along his chin, deep in thought. It seemed like Max could do everything that Bradley could do, only better; and that was unacceptable.

Tank’s loud voice boomed from downstairs, “Bradley,” He shouted, “We’re heading to the cafe. You comin’?”

Bradley sighed, making his way over to the door and opening it to reply, “No, go without me.”

“Fine, suit yourself,” Tank replied, leading the way out the front door.

Bradley made his way back downstairs once the Gamma’s had exited; glad to have the house to himself for a bit.

What did they see in Max that Bradley didn't have? Surely, it couldn't be anything that great, could it?

Bradley peeked out the front window, making sure the Gamma’s were out of sight before he returned to the couch, and picked up the TV remote from the floor. He hit the power button, watching as the screen lit up, revealing Max and his band members on stage once more. It looked like they were playing an encore for the crowd.

A rainbow of lights illuminated the stage, defining Max’s breathtaking silhouette. He rocked his hips back and forth as he strummed, leaning so close to the mic that his lips were brushing against it.

His voice was attractive - raspy and rough, with the perfect amount of edge. They were playing really well, but Bradley would never admit that. He squeezed the remote in his grip so tightly that it felt as if it was going to shatter.

Whatever ‘it’ was, Max definitely had it. He had the looks, the style, the voice, the personality - everything to make him stand out above the rest. Max truly was a star: a star that shined multitudes brighter than Bradley did.

Why couldn't he look away from the screen?

Max strummed the last note of their final song, and he made a heart with his hands, then pointed at the camera with a wink.

It caused Bradley’s heart to beat hard against his chest. His breath caught in his throat, and he scrambled to hit the power button on his remote.

Why did Max have this effect on him? Why was he enjoying watching him perform?

Bradley set the remote down on the table and began pacing around the living room, deep in thought. There had to be a way to get the attention away from Max and back onto him, because Bradley was the one who was supposed to run this campus.

He wasn't going to let Max steal his fame, even if it killed him.

Chapter Text

Max stepped out of Bobby’s van, using the shade from his arm to shield himself from the bright afternoon sun. State’s campus was crowded - there were students milling about in every direction. The light posts and buildings were posted with images of Max, dealing out information on his latest gig.

Max chuckled, reaching into the backseat and pulling out his guitar case. “Guys,” He said to PJ and Bobby, “Check it out - There’s posters everywhere to promote our band.”

PJ replied, “It’s unreal, man. Let's be real though - they’re all comin’ to see you.” He nudged Max’s shoulder in a friendly manner.

Max responded, “That’s not true! I don't ride solo, and you know that. Daydream Flip wouldn't be what it is without you guys.” He motioned towards PJ and Bobby, then slung his guitar over his shoulder.

Bobby said, “Yeah, well that doesn't change the fact that you're number one, bro. Let’s face it - you're the main course and PJ and I are just the soggy side of fries.”

Max couldn't help but laugh at Bobby’s stupid analogy. “Shut up,” he chaffed, pulling a medium sized amp from the van. “Come on, we gotta get to the park. We’re running behind.”

The three of them unloaded their luggage, and dragged it over to the park in the center of campus, where a large stage had been constructed for their performance. A woman approached them; she was gorgeous. Even while being beneath the scorching sun, she was wearing all black; it was pretty impressive. Black sweater, long pants, and a black beret.

“...You must be Daydream Flip?” She asked cooly, folding her arms and leaning against the side of the stage.

“That’s us,” Max said, holding out his hand to greet her. “Are you a stagehand?”

She nodded, giving Max’s hand a swift shake before replying. “My name is Mocha. Looks like I’ve been assigned to your little posse to manage you for the school year.”

“Mocha,” PJ stammered, stepping forward. “It’s uh… really great to have you on board.” He shook her hand as well. By the looks of him, he was in complete awe of her.

“Likewise,” She replied, retracting her arm. “Now listen up, boys. You’re running late, so you’re putting us on a tight schedule. There’s nothing I hate more than irresponsibility, so make sure to clean up your act.”

Max nodded quickly, hoisting one of his amps onto the stage. “Sorry about that,” he grunted with effort as he shoved an even bigger amp beside it. “We had a lot to pack up.”

Bobby jammed his thumb towards the stage. “Need any help with electrical?”

Mocha shrugged, but seemed amused at his request. “More or less,” She replied, “Get back there and see what you can do.”

“Heard,” Bobby said with a dramatic salute, then retreated backstage.

Mocha, PJ and Max all continued to unpack, setting up the stage with haste. There were only a few more hours until showtime - and Max’s nerves were shot. He knew how popular he was, and he knew the effect he had on people, but even so, he wasn't able to shake the anxiety out of his body.

“Hey, Max,” PJ cheerily said, pulling him from his thoughts, “Remember back in high school when we played in our junior year?”

Max nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

“It kinda gave me an idea. Remember when we picked someone from the audience to bring onstage?”

Max replied, “Yeah. We picked Stacey, right?” Now, the concept of pulling someone on stage seemed a bit childish.

“Right,” PJ continued, “I feel like we should make that a tradition. Tonight you should totally bring someone up here to jam with us.”

Max tilted his head off to the side in thought. “Eh, I don't know, Peej.”

“Come on! Why not?”

“It’s our first gig at State - we cant go pulling things like that without playing a few shows first.” Max responded, twisting the tuning pegs on his guitar.

“Whatever you say, man. I just feel like it’d get us even more publicity,” PJ pointed out.

Maybe he was right, but there was still that small chance of them completely blowing it on stage and tarnishing their reputation for the rest of the schoolyear.

Max said, “I’ll think about it. For now, let’s set up the show.”

***
Bradley had his skateboard tucked under his arm as he strolled along campus with Tank. They had just gotten a late lunch from a nearby diner, and just to happened to be passing by the park where Daydream Flip was preparing for their set.

Tank shouldered Bradley, harsher than he meant to due to the sheer size of his arm. “Get a load of this, sweetheart,” He said excitedly, “You’re comin’ with us to watch, arent you?”

Bradley looked towards the stage, and saw Max standing near the right corner of the apron. It took Bradley’s breath away rather selfishly. Max had his guitar around his neck, and he was loosely strumming some chords. The sight of him caused a feeling of uneasiness in Bradley’s chest. “No, Tank. I’m not going to watch them tonight,” He responded, dragging his eyes away from Max, and allowing them to land on Tank once more.

Tank gave Bradley a look - a look that frightened Bradley. “Really?” Tank said, “Is someone feelin’ a little jealous, huh?”

Bradley’s arms snapped taut to his sides, and he took a step away from Tank. “Don’t you dare patronize me, Tank. I could do that,” He jammed a thumb towards the stage, “better than they ever could.”

“Really? I thought all you knew how to play was the violin?” Tank couldn't help but chuckle at the word ‘violin’, as if if were something lousy.

Bradley replied, “That’s not so different from a guitar, is it?”

“You? Playing the guitar? HA! Don’t make me laugh, Bradley,” Tank boisterously hooted.

“Watch your mouth,” Bradley snapped in reply, “I own a guitar; an acoustic, actually. I just… haven’t gotten the time to learn it.”

“Yeah well, these boys are playin’ electric baby. Hard rock. I’d like to see you try that,” Tank pointed out.

Bradley glanced at Max once more, and this time, they made eye contact.

Max could have sworn that he felt a spark jolt up the length of his spine. He had never seen this person before in his life - if he did, he would have remembered. Max bit down on the end of his pick, and lifted his hand in a limp wave towards Bradley.

Bradley folded his arms across his chest, refusing to return the gesture towards Max. He didn't need a pity hello. Did Max really think he was that much better than everyone else? Did he really think so highly of himself? Bradley surely didn’t think that Max was deserving of anything from someone as elite as himself - not even a simple hello.

“Tank,” Bradley quickly said, “We’re leaving.” He began making his way back towards the Gamma house, refusing to remain in Max’s line of sight any longer.

Tank blindly obeyed, following close behind Bradley. “I’m takin’ you with me to the show tonight. No way am I lettin’ you hate on Daydream Flip without actually seein’ them live.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, listening to Tank prattle on and on about Daydream Flip the entire walk back to the house.

Max’s eyes were glued to Bradley, magnetized to him by some unknown force. It was powerful; electrifying. He followed him with his gawking gaze, leaning forward to watch him until the last possible second that he was out of sight.

“Max?” PJ asked, “What’re you looking at?”

Max straightened up, turning back to face PJ. “Did you see that guy?”

“Who?” PJ asked, craning his neck to see if he could spot Bradley.

“No, no he just left,” Max told PJ so that he would stop trying to find him. “I just… I don’t know,” Max stumbled over his words, feeling a bit tongue tied. It felt like he was back in high school, panting over some person he would no doubt be hopelessly infatuated with until it eventually fizzled out.

…He had never seen a person so divine in his nineteen years of living.

“What?” PJ asked again, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Max, don’t tell me you’ve already found your campus crush?” He nudged Max’s arm slightly.

Max chuckled. “Knock it off, Peej. You know I’m not looking for a relationship right now.” He redirected his attention back down at his guitar, attempting to distract himself from the image of Bradley that kept popping into his mind.

PJ asked, “...You’re still hung up on Roxanne?”

“What?” Max jumped, finding PJ’s question rather surprising. “No, not at all. It’s got nothing to do with Roxanne. I mean… I haven't even talked to her since graduation. Even then, it was just a ‘hope you’re doing well’ and then we went on with our lives.”

PJ sighed, then sat himself down with his legs hanging off the end of the stage. “Do you miss her?”

Max glanced down at PJ, then lowered himself to sit beside him. “Well, to an extent, yeah; but our relationship didn’t even last that long. We started dating the summer before sophomore year, then… we were together for a year and a half, and we ended things before senior year. I seriously haven’t had a genuine conversation with her since. We were both like, ‘oh yeah lets still be friends and totally keep in touch!’ But I just couldn't do it…” Max would have been lying if he said that part of him wasn’t still sore after Roxanne broke up with him, but he was over it. He had finally moved on, but the thought of being in another relationship scared him. He wasn't ready for that yet.

PJ replied, “After you guys broke up, you really just stopped talking about her altogether. I’ve always wanted to ask you about it but I didn't wanna push you into talking about anything you didn't wanna talk about.”

Max smiled a little. “Nah, it's cool, Peej. I wasn’t expecting us to become anything serious, anyways.”

“Yeah well, uh,” PJ stuttered, glancing over his shoulder for a moment before saying, “While we’re on the topic of campus crushes, I think I already found mine.” He leaned close to Max’s ear as he spoke.

“Who is it?” Max couldn't help but grin as he awaited PJ’s answer.

“Our new manager, man!” PJ exclaimed, “She’s like… some sort of goddess, dude.”

Max laughed, then patted PJ on the back a few times. “You know what PJ? I say go for it.”

“Oh, no, no I can’t. I can’t do that. Look at me, Max, I’m a total loser.”

Max raised his eyebrows. “Huh? Why do you think that?”

“Uh… I guess it’s cause my dad always tells me that.”

Max’s expression fell flat. “And you just listen to everything your dad says?”

PJ replied, “You know just as well as I do that my dad would kill me if i disobeyed him.”

Max smirked. “But we’re not at home anymore, are we? We’ve got total freedom here. I’d better not catch you holding back!”

PJ smiled, then said, “Fine, but I’d better not catch YOU holding back then, either! Next time you see that dude you were drooling over, point him out to me.”

Max laughed, giving PJ a friendly shove. “I was not drooling!”

“You totally were, dude. Big time.”

Max rolled his eyes and pushed himself back to his feet. “C’mon, PJ,” He extended him arm down towards him to help him up. “We’ve got a few more preparations to make. Let’s go help Bobby backstage, okay?”

PJ took Max by the hand and used his weight to pull himself upwards. “Got it,” He replied, making his way backstage with Max.
------
“How about this?” Tank asked, pulling a black sweater out of Bradley’s closet.

Bradley was seated on the edge of his bed with one leg crossed over the other, watching Tank begrudgingly. Tank was set on picking Bradley an outfit for the concert tonight; he wasnt going to take no for an answer.

“No,” Bradley hummed for the seventh time, wincing every time Tank would toss one of his sweaters into the ‘no’ pile.

“C’mon Bradley, you’re killin me here. You’ve got nothin to-” He stopped once his eyes landed on a tight black tank top that was hanging in the back of Bradley’s closet. He pried it from off the hanger, and held it out towards Bradley. “...Put this on.”

Bradley frowned, “...Where did you find that?”

“It was in the back of your closet, sweetheart. Now put it on.”

Bradley sighed, snatching it out of Tank’s hands. “I never wear this. It’s just a stupid old workout shirt.”

Tank moved over to his dresser, digging around in his pants drawer now. “Well you’re wering it tonight.”

Bradley reluctantly pulled his sweater over his head, and neatly folded it up on top of his pillow. “Tank,” He groaned, “I don’t want to go to this stupid concert.”

“Don’t care.” Tank said quickly.

Bradley swiftly put on the top, then stood in front of the mirror. It was cropped tightly just a few inches above his navel. He stared at himself for a moment, basking in the glory of his figure. He looked good and he knew it, but even so, he didn't want to wear it to the show.

Tank turned around, holding a pair of black pants in his grip, along with a matching belt. “Ha!” He chanted, “Look at you, baby! That’s hot stuff right there. Does Tank know how to pick an outfit or what?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes at Tank, partially disgusted by the way he was talking in third person. “...Just give me those.” He swiped the pants and belt from Tank’s grip, and hastily slid them over his body. He fastened the belt, then turned to look at Tank. “There. Are you happy now?”

Tank seemed a little too excited to see Bradley in this outfit. “Lookin’ good, Bradley,” he bellowed, making his way over to the desk. “It’s just missin’ one thing.” He shuffled around in the pen holder on the surface of Bradley’s desk, and pulled out two markers; one black and one red.

Bradley sighed loudly, slipping some expensive rings onto his fingers. “And what is that?”

“Come here,” Tank beckoned.

Curious, Bradley pushed the last ring onto his finger, then looked over at Tank. He saw the markers in his hand, and immediately began backing away. “No, no. Tank, this is where I draw the line,” He warned.

“Oh come on! It’s just a little extra flair - have a little fun, sweetheart.”

Bradley pointed a finger at Tank. “You are not drawing on my face.”

“Yeah, I am,” Tank smiled, making his way over to Bradley. “Hold still.” He cupped Bradley’s face in his large hands, and uncapped one of the markers with his teeth.

“Don’t!” Bradley exclaimed, feeling embarrassment heat his cheeks.

“Quit movin’,” Tank snapped, then carefully drew a red ‘D’ below the corner of Bradley’s right eye, then a black ‘F’ under the opposite eye.

“There,” He backed away and pushed the caps onto the markers, smiling at Bradley proudly. He examined him like art in a museum.

Bradley looked in the mirror, realizing that Tank had wrote the initials for ‘Daydrem Flip’ on his face. “Nope,” Bradley said quickly, “Not happening.” He reached up to smudge the lettering away, but Tank grabbed his wrist before he could.

“Nice try!” Tank laughed, “But if we don't go now, we’re gonna be late. Come on.”

Bradley grumbled with annoyance, following Tank down the stairs and out the front door.
The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was a beautiful mixture of orange and pink.
Bradley had never seen campus this crowded before - it was almost unbelievable that Daydream Flip - or rather Max - had this many fans.

They arrived at the stage, where there was a huge banner with the band’s logo on it, a tilted skateboard with the bands name written above it in jagged letters.

The crowd was huge - and Bradley was glad to have found a spot way in the back. Tank stood on his tiptoes to get a look at the group in front of them, then grabbed onto Bradley’s wrist.
“C’mon,” he whispered, “I’m real good at pushin’ my way up to the pit.”

“No, Tank. I don't want to-” But before Bradley had a chance to object, Tank was yanking him into the crowd, pulling him through countless rows of people until they were just about pressed up against the barricade.

“What did I tell ya?” Tank laughed happily. Was was Tank so excited to see this band preform? They were nothing but a bunch of wannabe duds - they would never amount to anything.

Bradley placed his hands on his hips, tapping his foot anxiously as he awaited the start of the concert. He dreaded to see Max step out onto the stage - especially being so close.

This was going to be a long show.

Chapter Text

The lights onstage dimmed to cue the band, and from behind the curtain, Max could hear the crowd immediately roar with avid excitement. He hopped up and down a few times, attempting to dispel the anxiety from his body.

Bradley dropped his arms to his sides once the lights darkened, and lifted his chin to look up at the stage. Tank was hooting loudly from beside him, pumping his fist in the air repeatedly. While waiting for them to come on stage, Tank had lectured Bradley on all of their names and all of his favorite songs - Bradley was in too deep now to back out.

PJ was the first to come out on stage.
The crowd shouted loudly at his appearance. He waved his drum sticks in the air, then sat down behind his instrument.

Bobby was next. He made his way towards the mic, leaning forward to say, “Hey hey hey everyone!” He had to wait for the crowd to die down before speaking again. “Thanks for comin’ out tonight! We’re so stoked to be playing here at State.” He strummed a little solo on his bass, which was triangular shaped and decorated to look like a slice of pepperoni pizza. Once again, the crowd cheered.
“Alright, alright,” Bobby said through a chuckle. “Thats enough from me. I know who you’re all waitin’ for!” He gripped the mic as he announced, “Maxamillion! Get out here, man!”

Bradley’s heart beat tremendously against his chest - the anticipation of seeing Max was eating him alive.

The loud strum of an electric guitar shook the speakers, and finally, Max walked out into the center of the stage.

The crowd went absolutely wild; Bradley had never heard such loud ovation.

Max was wearing a pair of baggy blue jeans, with an equally baggy black shirt. A sleeveless maroon jacket sat over the top, and he had ripped elbow length black gloves going up his arms. He was layered in jewelry - necklaces and countless piercings.

The sight of him caused Bradley’s heart to flutter in his chest.

The crowd began bouncing up and down, causing Bradley to jostle around in a way that made him unreasonably irked.

Max flashed a smile at the army of fans, leaning forward into the mic as he exclaimed, “How’s everyone doing tonight?”

PJ slapped the cymbals a few times as the crowd cheered.

Max chuckled, a sound that send tingles of pleasure down Bradley’s spine.
“We’ve got a few songs here for you tonight. I wanna see everyone on their fucking feet - let’s go!”

They kicked off the show with a bang. Their first song was incredibly faced paced. The music was so loud that Bradley could feel the beats within his chest. He gripped tightly to the barricade, a little overwhelmed by how intense things were so close to the front of the stage. He locked his eyes onto Max, watching closely as he preformed. The way his fingers danced along the strings, the way his lips grazed against the mic, the way his hips swayed with the music - it was captivating.

A drum solo began, and Max used this time to peel the jacket off of his body.

A group of girls pressed up against Bradley, pushing him into the barricade. They squealed, reaching up towards the stage.

Bradley shoved them back with his elbows, fighting desperately for a better view of Max. Sweat glistened along Max’s body and for some reason, Bradley couldn't get himself to pull his eyes away.

Max played the final chord, his shoulders rising and falling with exertion. He smiled again, gesturing with open arms towards the crowd to thank them. He scanned the crowd, and that was when he saw Bradley standing up against the barricade - the exact same man that had caught his eye back when they were making preparations. Max didn't even know his name, but he did know that he was violently attracted to him.
The fact that Bradley was a fan of Daydream Flip caused a bright blush to break out across Max’s cheeks. He swallowed nervously, finding it difficult to look away from Bradley and focus on the show. He didn't want to look bad in front of him - definitely not while he was standing front row.
Max swallowed his nerves, and glanced back at PJ, suddenly remembering the suggestion he had made earlier about bringing a fan up on stage.
He spoke into the mic, “Alright, this next one is one of my personal favorites. We’re gonna bring one of you up on stage during the second verse, so stay on your toes!”

Once again, the crowd bugged out, chanting and screaming with exhilaration.

The song began, and Bradley could hardly listen to the words that Max was saying due to his antsy anticipation. He had noticed the way that Max was eyeing him… surely he would pick one of the troublesome fangirls behind him to go up on stage, right?

Bobby began his bass solo, signaling that it was time to choose a fan from the crowd.

Max wiped his face with his forearm, then began walking towards the edge of the stage to make a selection.

Tank began waving his hands around and pointing at Bradley, shouting at Max to select him, while everyone else in his vicinity was screaming ‘pick me!’ ‘me me!’ and “I love you Max!’

Max was paying no attention to anyone around him - his eyes were perpetually locked onto Bradley. He had made his choice.
Max slid to his knees, and extended his gloved hand down towards Bradley, smiling brightly. He was leaning over the edge of the stage, waiting for Bradley to take his hand and climb up on stage.
A scintillating spotlight glittered down from above them, illuminating their figures against the darkness. Bradley felt his mouth fall open slightly as he stared at Max in disbelief. They were face to face - just inches apart. His heart was beating so loud; louder than the music blaring from the speakers.

Bradley felt countless hands begin to push him closer towards Max.

Tank urged, “Get up there, baby!” He gave Bradley one final shove.

Bradley clasped onto Max’s hand, feeling a vibration of intense allure reverberate through his body. Max pulled him up on stage, and guided him over to the mic. The world became blurred - the only thing that was clear within Bradley’s vision was Max. Max held onto his hand until the last possible second, only releasing it when he began to play once more. He circled Bradley enticingly as he strummed, locking eyes with him for the entirety of the song.

Bradley felt a wave of emotions crash over him - attraction, hate, lust, anger, desire. …It was too much to bear. He watched as Max trailed around him, leaning close as he lured Bradley in with his lyrics.

“You don't wanna stay, its driving me insane
The way that you behave, it's so far from humane
I write my name on your neck with the ashes from my cigarette
You’re all bark and no bite, you’ll never be a threat.”

Bradley went rigid as Max pressed his shoulder up against him, his fingers working madly as they plucked the strings of his guitar. Bradley could feel the sweat that moistened Max’s arms, he could smell hints of citrus and vanilla radiating from his skin. It was driving him crazy.

Max leaned in close to Bradley’s face as he sang the next verse, but unlike last time, Bradley was unable to focus on the words he was saying. His eyes flitted from Max’s gaze to his lips, his arms, his piercings, his neck - anything that Bradley could soak in with his last remaining moments onstage.

The song finished, leaving Max nose to nose with Bradley .

The sea of fans applauded madly.

Bradley looked up at Max with just his eyes, keeping his head locked back and away from Max’s.
Max was breathing heavily, smiling with satisfaction as he looked Bradley up and down.

God, If Max kept looking at him like that, he was going to go berserk.

It felt like an eternity before Max finally looked away, spinning around and picking up a plastic water bottle that sat beside his mic stand. He unscrewed the cap and sloppily glugged a few slurps of water down, then wiped his mouth off with his arm. The acclimation had finally died down, and Max wrapped his arm around Bradley, pulling him close to the mic.

The feeling of Max’s hand resting on Bradley’s waist caused a tightness to squeeze his chest.
He couldn't control his feelings - his soul was overtaken by an angry mob, revolting against the paralyzing smoke of ardor.

Max cheerily spoke into the mic, “What’s your name, man?”The suspense of finding out his name caused prickles of nervousness to web through Max’s fingers.

Bradley cleared the perturbation from his throat before saying, “Bradley Uppercrust III.”

Max raised his eyebrows - it wasn’t quite the answer he was expecting, but he was already enamored. “Well then, everyone let's hear it for Bradley!” Max slid his fingers down Bradley’s arm until they reached his hand. He grasped onto it, and triumphantly lifted his arm into the air.

The fans put their hands together once more, hooting and hollering for Bradley this time, and he couldn't get enough of the applause.

Max chuckled lightly, dropping Bradley’s hand, and pulling a spare red pick from the mic stand. He placed it and Bradley’s palm and said, “This is for you, stud.” He winked before continuing, “Don’t lose it.”

Bradley’s breath caught in his throat, and he closed his fist around the pick.

A couple of stagehands helped Bradley off stage, back to the barricade beside Tank. By the time Bradley had finally gotten situated, Daydream Flip began playing their next song.
Bradley’s blood was rushing loudly in his ears. He stared down at the pick in his hands as the DF fanatics continued to mosh around him.

Fuck. Bradley had to push his feelings of inclination for Max out of the way before they became too strong. He wanted to hate him - he wanted to be better than him. …But he couldn’t.

He was intensely entranced by Max for the remainder of the show, bewitched by his alluring movements and occasional flirty winks in his direction. Bradley closely studied every single action that Max made on stage until the final number ended, and Daydream Flip thanked the crowd for coming before retreating backstage.

Tank turned to face Bradley, shaking him around by the shoulders. “That was better than I could have fucking imagined,” he cheered. “You were on stage, Bradley. Ha! I knew bringing you to this show was a great idea.”

Bradley could hardly find the words to speak - every thought ht had led back to one thing, and one thing only; Max. He looked up at Tank and breathed, “...Maybe they’re not as bad as I thought they were.”

Tank guffawed, slapping Bradley on the back. “Not as bad? Bradley, you were putty in Max’s hands, baby.”

Bradley shot Tank a look of disappointment. “...I never said anything good about Max. Their music is good, but he’s absolutely atrocious.”

Tank sighed loudly, becoming sick of Bradley’s antics. “Whatever you say, man. Hey, let’s go check out the merch table. We gotta get you a DF shirt now.”

Bradley frowned. “No, I’m not getting a shirt.”

“My treat. Come on,” Tank urged, leading the way toward the merch table.

The crowd had somewhat cleared, as a lot of people still needed to unpack their things and move into the dorms. Bradley stood in the merch line with Tank, inspecting the different shirts and hoodies they had for sale.
PJ, Max, and Bobby each had their own shirt - Bobby’s being green, Max’s red, and PJ’s blue. There were multiple variations of hoodies with the Daydream Flip logo on it, and a few posters of the band as well. CD’s and stickers littered the table with small price tags stuck to them.

Bradley’s ears were still slightly muffled from the deafening music, so he was fine with waiting around until things died down. As they waited, there was a sudden round of loud screams to their left. Both Tank and Bradley turned to look towards the source of the noise.

Max, PJ, and Bobby had emerged from backstage. A group of fans trailed after them, holding up slips of paper, posters, and CD’s to be signed. Bradley forced his ogling eyes away from Max, and glanced back at the merch table.

Max took his time to greet as many fans as he could, signing a large ‘MAX’ on everything the fans extended towards him. He noticed Bradley standing in the merch line, and his heart began to throb unexpectedly beneath his chest. He slung his jacket over one shoulder then shoved his hands in his pockets, pushing his way through the overbearing crowd in order to reach Bradley.
He stood beside them in line, but Bradley hadn't noticed them yet.

Tank did though - he was ecstatic to be seeing Max up close and in person. “Hey!” Tank cheered,
“Great show, baby. Your music is killer.”

Max smiled, shaking Tank’s hand in a friendly manner. “Thanks, man. That really means a lot to me.”

Bradley would recognize that boyish, raspy voice anywhere. He spun around, once again coming chest to chest with Max. Bradley’s breath caught in his throat, so much so that he couldn't even get any words out. Why did this keep happening?

Max couldn't help but grin widely at the sight of Bradley. “Hey,” Max said smoothly, jamming his hands back into his pockets. “You were great up there today.”

Bradley frowned, folding his arms across his chest in hopes that Max wouldn't see his hands shaking in pure awe. “...I didn't exactly do anything. I just stood there.”

“Yeah well,” Max chuckled, “You looked good while doing it. Love your outfit, by the way.” He noticed as Max's eyes outlined his figure greedily.

Bradley’s cheeks heated with embarrassment. He stuttered, “I don't… This isn't what I usually wear,” was what he ended up saying. He was making a complete, blabbering fool of himself in front of the one person he wanted to impress.

Max could definitely sense Bradley’s nervousness. The word ‘anxiety’ was basically stapled to his forehead. Max replied, “Have you been to one of our shows before?”

“No,” Bradley sneered, “I didn't even want to come to this one.”

Max’s posture dropped in blatant disappointment. “Uhh… really? I mean, you were at barricade, you’ve got our band name painted on your face, and you're standing in the line for merch.”

Bradley’s mouth opened to respond, but he couldn't find a good way to rebuttal.

Max chuckled softly, then held his hand out. “Hey, you still got that pick I gave you?”

Bradley opened his palm, where the bright red pick was still resting.

“Nice,” Max breathed, then plucked the pick from the center of his hand, and wrote something on the back of it with a sharpie. He handed it back to Bradley then said quietly, “...You know where to find me,” Before making his exit.

Bradley stared at Max until he was engulfed by his adorning fans.

“Did he sign it?” Tank asked, leaning over Bradley in attempts to see the pick.

Bradley flipped the pick over, to see the the number ‘103’ written down in black marker.

…Max wrote down his room number?

Anticipation burned within Bradley’s brain, prompting him to meet Max in his room that night.

He hated Max. There’s no way he was actually going to do it - right?

Chapter Text

Bradley’s fist hovered over the surface of the wooden door. He was hesitant to knock, but the curiosity of why Max wrote down his room number had been eating him alive.

He didn't like Max. No, not really; but something about him was much too captivating to ignore.

He rapped his knuckles against the door a few times, then took a step back. Regret washed over him immediately - he wasn't sure what to say when Max opened the door, or what to expect. He tapped his foot anxiously, looking anywhere he could to ease his mind.

The door opened to reveal Max standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of gray shorts. His hair was wet, and hanging into his eyes. It seemed as if he had just gotten out of the shower.

A spread of pink flushed through Bradley’s cheeks, and he found his eyes trailing mindlessly down Max’s body.

Max smiled at the sight of Bradley. “Hey,” He said smoothly, “I didn't think you’d actually show up.”

Bradley himself didn't even know why he was here. He cleared his throat, allowing his arms to drop to his sides before saying, “You were the one who gave me your room number. I figured I should find out what you want.”

Max replied with a small chuckle. “What I want? Easy. I want you, Bradley.”

Bradley’s breath hitched in his throat. There was a small pause of silence between them before Bradley stuttered, “What… do you mean?”

Max said, “I hear you’re the talk of this campus. You’re the big guy to look out for. Is that true?”

A boost of confidence rushed through his body at the mention of this. He straightened out his shoulders, placing his hands behind his back as he replied, “...I am. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard of me sooner.”

Max raised his eyebrows, “Do you make music too?”

Bradley wasn't sure why, but his first instinct was to lie. “I do,” He said quickly. It wasn't entirely a lie; he did play the violin.

“Oh sick!” Max exclaimed, leaning against the doorway. “You think you'd wanna play together sometime?”

Max’s reasoning for asking Bradley to hang out was unclear. He wanted nothing more than to say no and never look at his face again. But there was something about Max that undoubtedly drew Bradley in, and he wasn't able to resist.

Perhaps getting close to Max was the only way to remain king of this campus.
So he decided to answer by saying, “Yes. We should.”

Max’s face lit up, and he leaned ever so slightly towards Bradley. “You busy tomorrow night?”

“Not particularly.”

“Why not come back here? Bring your guitar.”

Bradley hesitated. He couldn't play the guitar - not well, at least. “...Okay. I will.”

Max smiled a cute, boyish grin that threatened to sweep Bradley off of his feet. “Great,” He said, “See you then.” Max shot Bradley a wink before shutting the door, leaving him alone in the hallway with his deceit hanging cloudily over his head.

…Was Max flirting with him? Was he after more than just a simple jam session?

Panic snagged his chest as he began making his way out of the building. His mind swirled with questions and anxiety, which would only be answered tomorrow night during his session with Max.
----
Bradley found himself in the same exact spot the next evening; hand hovered over the door, weary to knock. This time, he had his guitar case slung over his shoulder. The guitar that he hadn't touched in months - the guitar that was most certainly out of tune - the guitar that he had no idea how to play.
Regretfully, he tapped on the door and waited for Max to answer.

To Bradley’s surprise, the door swung open instantly, as if Max had been waiting for this.
“Hey,” he said cheerily, stepping aside to let Bradley in. “Glad you could make it.”

Bradley forced a smile, then stepped into the room. He expected it to be filled with all sorts of music awards and other achievements, but there was none of that. Just a few college posters and a Powerline setlist taped above his desk.

“Can I see it?” Max asked.

Bradley raised his eyebrows, turning to face him. “My guitar?”

“Yeah, man. What else?” Max chuckled a little, making eye contact with Bradley.

Bradley’s eyes narrowed into thin slits as he looked back at Max. “Be honest with me. Why did you invite me here?”

Max’s smile fell at the sound of this question. “Do I need a reason?”

“I would like one,” Bradley pressed, not taking no for an answer. He wasn’t stupid - a star like Max was never just after one thing.

Max stuffed his hands into his pockets and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I guess… I just thought you were cool, is all. I can't lie - I looked you up last night. I had no idea you were such a talented skater. It’s pretty impressive.”

Bradley set his guitar case down, leaning it up against the bed. “I take it you skate as well?”

“Yeah,” Max replied, “But I haven't had much time since I’ve been touring pretty much constantly.”

Maybe Bradley truly was better than Max at something.

“So that's it?” Bradley asked, “You invited me over because I’m a good skater? Seems a bit strange to me.”

“What?” Max dropped his arms to his sides in frustration, “I’m new to campus - is it weird for me to want some friends?”

Bradley looked down his nose at Max. “I suppose not.”

Max frowned, avoiding Bradley’s gaze for a moment before changing the subject. “You gonna take out your guitar or what?” For some strange reason, there was a thin string of sexual tension buzzing between them. It was undeniable.

Bradley was dreading this question. He slowly unzipped his guitar case and pulled out his simple acoustic guitar. Without any other place to go, he was forced to sit directly beside Max on the edge of the bed- so close that their shoulders were pressed together.

Max’s cheeks were glowing red with nerves, and it was impossible for him to hide. He cleared his throat slightly before saying, “...Go on and play something. I’m dying to hear what you can do.”

Bradley situated the guitar in his grip, then looked down the neck of the instrument at his fingers, which were awkwardly positioned on the strings.

What was he supposed to do? He was clueless.

There was a strange moment of silence between them, until Max said, “Uhh… Bradley?”

Bradley brought his fingers down and strummed, resulting in a shakily played out of tune chord.

Max looked down at the guitar, then back up at Bradley. “You can't play, can you?”

Bradley grit his teeth, looking away from Max. “I can play. Just.. not this.”

Max stifled a laugh. “Then what do you play?”

“...The violin,” Bradley said through a clenched jaw, expecting Max to jeer and poke fun at him for it.

“Oh wow. That's really cool, actually. I’ve never tried to play the violin. Did… you want to learn guitar, then?”

Shocked by his response, Bradley’s eyebrows lifted towards his hairline. “I think it would be nice to know how to play,” He said honestly.

“Then I can teach you,” Max responded.

Bradley smiled a little, hating the fact that he was so ecstatic to have another reason to get to know Max. “Really?”

“Hell yeah,” Max said, smiling brightly. “We can start right now, if you’re okay with that.”

Bradley shyly avoided his gaze. “...That would be nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Max’s hand brushed against Bradley’s own when he reached for the tuning pegs, twisting them slightly. A jolt of attraction shocked Bradley’s body, and he found himself unable to take his eyes off of Max.

Max said, “I can teach you a few chords, if you want.” The thread of tension pulled tighter.

Bradley simply nodded in response, since the sight of Max was too breathtaking to speak.

Max put his hand over Bradley’s own, and positioned his fingers onto the strings.
A rush of nerves flooded Bradley’s joints as Max’s hand made connection with his own. His breathing quickened, and he could hardly focus on anything that Max was saying.

“Your posture is a bit off,” Max said, reaching around Bradley completely, pressing his body up against his as he moved Bradley’s arm into a different spot.

Bradley turned to look at Max, and their faces were just inches apart.

Things seemed to be happening almost too quickly - Bradley wasn't sure how to feel about it. All he knew for certain was that they were both feeling a connection here.

Max swallowed nervously, and his eyes flitted from Bradley’s lips every now and then as they sat like that - neither of them daring to separate.
When Max spoke, his voice came out barely above a whisper. “Um,” he stammered, “is this okay?”

Bradley just nodded breathlessly, finding himself far too enamored by Max to say anything.

Max blinked a few times, his grip on Bradley’s hand tightening a bit.
Then, Max closed in on the space between them, pressing his lips to Bradleys rather suddenly.

Rather than pushing him away, Bradley actually relaxed. He returned the kiss, feeling free in the sense that nobody had to know what was going on between them.

Max slowly pulled away, making eye contact with Bradley once more. He didn't say anything - he just looked at him, as if he was unsure why he did that. Their bodies were still pressed against one another.

Bradley was the first to speak, “So that's why you invited me over?”

A smile cracked across Max’s lips. “What if it was?”

Bradley didn't even have to think about his response. He gave into the temptation. “Then I could get used to this.”

He set his guitar down and leaned into Max once more, kissing him a bit more passionately this time, taking up his face in his palms. He could feel Max smiling against his lips, and he really liked it.

Once Bradley had finally pulled away, Max said, “You still wanna learn a few chords?”

Bradley used his foot to push the guitar away slightly. “It can wait.” He climbed on top of Max, pushing him down onto the bed and pressed his lips to Max’s neck.

Max chuckled, wrapping his arms around Bradley and pulling him closer.

If Bradley was one of the perks of being a rockstar, then Max wasn't going to complain.

Bradley wasn’t expecting his night to end like this - not at all; but he wouldn't have it any other way.

He found himself rather excited for what the future might bring.

His future, which certainly involved Max.