Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in a mesmerizing blend of warm oranges and pinks, a large bus with faded red paint halted at the stop, its weary engine humming to a stop. Max, a young man with a skateboard strapped to the backpack slung over his shoulder, looked around anxiously, his eyes reflecting the city's vibrant energy. With a quick nod to the driver, Max boarded the bus, smoothly flashing his pass with a confident smile.

Despite the crowded bus, Max managed to find a hanging ring on a nearby pole for support since all seats were taken. Feeling the bus lurch forward, Max let out a sigh of relief, grateful to have secured a spot among the standing passengers.

He leaned back against the pole, feeling the gentle sway of the bus as it navigated through the city streets. Max closed his eyes for a moment of peace in the chaos of urban life.

The bus was fucking full; after all, it was a busy Friday afternoon, filled with tired workers eager to start their weekends.

What does he expect? Although he had considered skateboarding as a faster option, the considerable distance to his final stop prevented him from taking that route, leaving him resigned to the crowded bus journey ahead.

Max's eyes swept across the sea of passengers packed into the bus, the stifling heat and noise of chatter surrounding him in a suffocating embrace, a silent realization dawning on him that standing shoulder to shoulder was the unspoken rule of survival during this bustling time of day.

Mentally bracing himself for the expected pushing and swaying, Max gripped the handrail tightly as the bus navigated through the congested traffic, the buzz of honking horns and distant sirens filling the air.

Max glanced at his watch, realizing he would be home late if the bus didn't move quickly through the traffic.

So lame, Max thought to himself.

As he mindlessly scrolled through his phone, his attention was suddenly captured by a figure in front of him. Sitting on the seat was a young man with striking brown hair. The stranger's hair was a vibrant contrast to the dullness of the bus interior, and Max found himself intrigued by the way the sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating the man's features. His nose was buried in a phone. Max couldn't help but be intrigued by his unique appearance and the way he seemed completely unfazed by the chaos around them.

Max couldn't help but steal glances at the mysterious stranger.

Should I? Max debated whether or not to strike up a conversation with the stranger, feeling a surge of nervous excitement. Maybe this bus ride wouldn't be so boring after all.

As the bus jolted to a sudden stop, the noisy chatter of passengers filled the air, but Max's attention remained fixed on the man with the phone. He took a deep breath, mustered up his courage, and decided to make his move.

"Excuse me, I hope this isn't too forward, but your hair is truly stunning," he remarked, breaking the silence with a nervous smile. Max mentally face-palmed, feeling a flush of embarrassment as he realized how cringeworthy his opening line sounded.

The stranger remained unfazed, engrossed in his phone without a hint of acknowledgment.

Nervous about the first encounter, Max cleared his throat with determination, aiming to leave a lasting impression. "I'm Max, by the way," he added, hoping to spark a conversation.

Despite Max's friendly approach, the stranger remained engrossed in their own world, not bothering to lift their gaze.

Ahh, is he ignoring me on purpose? Max thought, feeling a bit embarrassed. But he decided to give it one more shot. Maintaining a composed facade, Max inquired, "May I ask for your name?" in an attempt to keep the conversation light and friendly.

Max's head bobbed up and down in nervous anticipation, his eyes darting around as he waited for a response, aiming to break the ice with the mysterious stranger.

The stranger's head slowly lifted, his eyes scanning the room with curiosity before abruptly halting in surprise when he locked eyes with Max, freezing in place.

Max thought to himself, struck by the piercing blue of his eyes, feeling a sudden jolt of recognition. Could it be possible that they had met before?

A wave of relief flooded through Max, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the stranger's gaze met his at last. Maybe there was hope for a conversation after all. He smiled, eager to see where this interaction would lead.

"Nice to meet you," Max said warmly, extending his hand in greeting. The stranger hesitated for a brief moment, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion before tentatively reaching out to shake Max's hand, uncertainty evident in his expression.

Max started to say something, but this stranger ignored him. Max's warm smile faltered slightly as uncertainty crept into his expression, pondering the best approach to keep the conversation with the unresponsive stranger.

Again… He is definitely a tough nut to crack, Max thought to himself.

As they paused in awkwardness, Max couldn't help but wonder what had caused the stranger's guarded behavior.

Feeling frustrated, Max rolled his eyes in exasperation as his attention was suddenly captured by a stranger deeply engrossed in their phone, who then swiftly flashed Max with the screen. Max squinted in discomfort as the intense brightness of the phone screen momentarily blinded him, and he read a message that stated, "I'm deaf, can't speak."

Understanding now, Max never felt so embarrassed and stupid. The whole time he thought this stranger was ignoring him when he was actually unable to hear. In a rush, Max retrieved his phone from his pocket and swiftly tapped out a message to express his sincere apology for the misunderstanding and initiate a conversation through text.

In an attempt to rectify his misjudgment, Max, feeling a mix of embarrassment and regret, introduced himself with a heartfelt apology: "I'm Max. I apologize for assuming you were ignoring me. It's nice to meet you."

The stranger, Bradley, with a smirk of superiority, would make a cutting remark in sign language if Max knew some but he didn't. Bradley's fingers swiftly tapped on his phone screen, the screen lighting up with a message.

His eyes flashed with annoyance as he showed Max the words on the screen: "Bradley. Even if I could hear, I'd still ignore you." Max, taken aback by Bradley's response, felt a wave of humiliation wash over him.

Max let out a soft chuckle, a hint of regret in his voice as he muttered, "Bradley, huh." His eyes met Bradley's, revealing a mix of emotions—regret, understanding, and a glimmer of hope for reconciliation. Max's fingers hovered over the keys for a moment, a mix of emotions playing on his face.

With a deep breath, he began typing, "I'm sorry if I came off too strong. I hope we can start over and maybe get to know each other better."

With a raised eyebrow that portrayed a blend of annoyance, curiosity, and a hint of amusement, Bradley studied Max intently. His expression was a canvas of conflicting emotions, reflecting his inner thoughts and feelings. Letting out a thoughtful 'hmm' that carried a touch of amusement in his voice.

In response to Max, Bradley typed, 'I see. Why the interest in me?' expressing curiosity and a hint of skepticism. Their exchange was filled with intrigue and curiosity.

Max hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing his words before responding, "I find you interesting."

Max's gaze lingered on Bradley's face, studying his expressions closely; Bradley's eyebrow raised even higher in curiosity. Bradley typed before showing Max, "Isn't that so?"

A soft chuckle escaped Max's lips, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he replied, "Yes, very interesting indeed."

Bradley rolled his eyes, ignoring Max. He continued typing on his phone, clearly uninterested in further conversation.

Did I say something wrong? Max raised an eyebrow, unsure of Bradley's sudden change in behavior. He wondered if he had unintentionally offended him.

Max tapped Bradley's shoulder gently, concern evident in his voice as he asked, "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," he typed curtly before standing up from the bus seat. Max's heart sank as he took a step back, the chill in Bradley's tone sending a shiver down his spine.

Max's eyes looked up at Bradley's towering figure, a sense of unease creeping over him. He couldn't help but wonder what had caused Bradley's sudden shift in behavior. Bradley then pulled the string, letting the bus driver know that next is his stop. Bradley, towering over Max with his broad shoulders and standing mere inches away from him, his deafness adding a layer of complexity to their interaction.

As the old, worn bus screeched to a sudden stop, Bradley swiftly made his way out without a glance back. However, Max, a curious and persistent individual, refused to ignore the weird exit.

Without hesitation, Max made a split-second decision to tail Bradley. Moving through the crowd of passengers in the cramped bus, they navigated their way to the exit, brushing past people in their urgency to leave.

Max quickened his pace to catch up with Bradley, determined to get to the bottom of his strange behavior. As they stepped off the bus, Max tapped Bradley on the shoulder and asked, "Is everything okay?"

Bradley suddenly shakes his shoulder and swiftly turns his head, his eyes narrowing as he glares at Max. Max instinctively reads Bradley's body language, interpreting it as a clear message: "Don't fucking touch me."

Max's heart pounding, he instinctively takes a step back, his eyes fixed on Bradley's retreating figure as he walks away without a backward glance. The thick tension hung in the air like a suffocating cloud, leaving Max with a mix of confusion and frustration swirling inside him.

"What the fuck did I do?" Max questioned himself, replaying the interaction in his mind, searching for answers amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

As Max stood there, trying to make sense of the unexpected turn of events that had unfolded before him, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation. Max's mind raced with possible explanations, but none seemed to fit the suddenness of Bradley's reaction.

Max shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his voice laced with a tinge of disbelief as he muttered, "What the hell, man? He's just fucking odd."

A heavy sigh escaped Max's lips as he shook his head, a futile attempt to dispel the persistent unease that gnawed at him, refusing to dissipate. Turning swiftly on his heel, he decisively changed his course and started walking in the opposite direction.

As he reached his new apartment, the realization of being a junior at the university dawned on him, stirring a blend of excitement and nervousness for the upcoming year. With a satisfying click, Max turned the key in the lock, swung open the door, and crossed the threshold, inhaling deeply as he prepared to begin on this fresh chapter in his life.

Chapter Text

Over the course of two weeks, Max navigates through his daily routine, attending classes and engaging in various academic pursuits. Working on his assignments for his mathematics degree in algebra and studying for exams, he feels the pressure building up. The constant cycle of deadlines and responsibilities weighs heavily on his mind. He needs a break, even though it feels impossible to find the time.

The room was barely lighted as the clock showed 6:21 a.m.

He reached for a cold Red Bull from the cluttered desk, popped the tab, and guzzled it down in one swift motion, feeling the rush of energy... for now. With a satisfying crunch, he crushed the can and flicked it like a basketball into the overflowing trash bin, the metal echoing against the plastic as it landed.

Max's eyelids drooped heavily as he fixed his gaze on the computer screen, the caffeine offering little help from his overwhelming fatigue. Turning to his worn notebook, he intended to jot down a few equations but his thoughts blurred together in a haze of exhaustion, making it hard to concentrate.

A deep, bitter groan escaped his lips, echoing through the silent room in a mix of exhaustion and exasperation.

"I'm fucking dying over here." He ran his fingers anxiously through his hair, the tension in his shoulders forming tight knots that seemed to constrict with every passing moment. His tongue ring emerged from his lip as he absentmindedly toyed with it, a nervous tic that seemed to escalate in frequency and intensity whenever the weight of pressure bore down on him.

Numbers are jumbling through his mind, each equation becoming more difficult than the last.

Max's sleepless nights and endless studying sessions begin to take a toll on his mental and physical health. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the next problem, feeling the exhaustion creeping in. Max's hands trembled as he struggled to concentrate, the pressure becoming almost unbearable. The thought of giving up crossed his mind, but he knew he had come too far to quit now.

Taking a deep breath, Max pushed through the fatigue and continued to work through the problems. He reminded himself of his goals and the hard work he had put in so far. His dad, Goofy, who raised him alone as a single father. Max's dad had always been his biggest supporter, and he couldn't let him down now. The memory of his father's sacrifices fueled Max to keep going, determined to make him proud.

Giving up was not an option.

After struggling for a couple of hours, Max finally manages to solve the last challenging problem and completes the lengthy assignment. He felt a sense of accomplishment and relief wash over him, knowing that his perseverance had paid off.

As he stretched, Max felt a satisfying pop in his back, sensing the tension melting away from his body. He cried out in joy, knowing that he finally finished the assignment that had been weighing on him for days. Excitedly, he reached for his phone to share the good news with his friends.

Max opens a conversation with his closest friends, PJ and Bobby, by sending a message in their group chat.

Max: hey! Just wanted to c if u guys r free this weekend to hang out. I finally kicked this assignment's ass. ughhhhh

PJ: Hey Max! I totally feel you on that. I'm swamped with homework.

Bobby: Geez guys I got good shit 4 u 2 try out.

Max: How strong is it?

Bobby: Rest assured, it's of the highest quality; Bobby personally guarantees it with his seal of approval.

Max chuckled at Bobby's text. Ever since they moved up from freshman, Bobby made a bold decision to drop out, saying colleges are not for him; he is meant to be free.

So he has become a traveler.

In the previous year alone, he embarked on an adventurous expedition to ten distinct countries, immersing himself in diverse experiences and encounters. Upon his return from his most recent escapade in South America, Bobby arrived with a prized selection of the finest quality weed he had ever encountered, hinting at the extraordinary moments that lay ahead. Max and PJ couldn't resist the opportunity to relax and unwind with Bobby's top-notch stash.

Unlike Bobby, Max's other friend, PJ is currently pursuing his dentistry degree, specializing in pediatric dentistry. PJ, who was always the responsible one in the group. Almost like the mother of the group, while Bobby is the carefree wanderer and Max is the adventurous thrill-seeker. PJ is the person they can always count on to keep them grounded and focused on their goals.

Max, sitting at his cluttered desk covered in textbooks and notes, absentmindedly tapped his pen against his worn notebook, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation about the challenging exams looming ahead. Despite the temptation of Bobby's weed, Max knew he had to stay focused on his studies to achieve his dream of becoming a math teacher.

Exhaling a heavy sigh that seemed to echo in the silence of his room, Max found his thoughts involuntarily drawn back to the encounter with the deaf man on the bus, grappling with the uncertainty of whether his words unintentionally caused offense or if the man is just plain mean.

"Bradley, huh, I wonder if I should try to apologize or just let it go," Max thought to himself, trying to shake off the distraction of the encounter with Bradley and refocus his attention on his studies, a mix of emotions swirling within him.

"Too bad he was actually cute." Max mumbled his thoughts quietly to his notebook, the words barely audible.

'I still can't believe he actually got off at the stop, just a stop away from my place. I wonder if he lives nearby. Maybe, on the next bus ride, I'll look out for him,' Max thought, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice as he considered the possibility.

The mix of curiosity and anxiety swirled within Max; the thought of encountering Bradley again stirred a blend of emotions in him, making the possibility both exciting and unsettling.

I sound like a creepy stalker, he thought to himself with a chuckle. Feeling a surge of determination, he immersed himself back into the complexities of his math textbooks, eager to conquer the challenging problems ahead.

He let out a deep groan of discomfort as he slowly rose from his chair, gently massaging his aching back and sore ass.

"At this rate, my ass will become a pancake from the hours spent glued to the chair," Max let out a tired mumble under his breath as he collapsed onto the bed, drained from the extensive study session. He closed his eyes, letting the fatigue wash over him as he drifted off into a deep sleep, dreaming of equations and unknown variables.

At least it's Friday.

Woken by the sudden, shrill ring of his phone cutting through the peaceful silence of the room, Max's eyes snapped open, alert and disoriented. Max's hand fumbled, searching for the buzzing phone. With a groan, he finally located it, squinting at the bright screen to see PJ's name displayed as the caller.

"Hey PJ, everything alright? What's going on?" Max's voice held a tinge of concern, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected call from PJ.

With a tremor in his voice, PJ urgently conveyed, "Max, this is urgent. I need you at my place right away. It's crucial." PJ's words hung heavy with unspoken gravity, demanding immediate action.

"Oh, what is going on???" Max yawned, still trying to shake off the remnants of his dream.

PJ's response was quick and to the point, "I'll explain when you get here; just come over now."

"Bro, it's 4 in the afternoon, and I just woke up." Max groaned, his disbelief evident as he rubbed his eyes, trying to adjust to the reality of the late hour after just waking up.

"I cant…" PJ stuttered, his words faltering in a jumble, while Max's mind raced through a maze of possible scenarios, each more concerning than the last.

"What do you mean you can't?" Max questioned, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and concern. Max's mind raced with possible scenarios as he waited for PJ to continue. The suspense was almost unbearable as he awaited PJ's next words.

"There is a huge ass spider in my room, and I need you to come over and get rid of it!" PJ said, his voice filled with panic.

"Jesus fuck, don't scare me like this. Where is Selena?" Max said, trying to contain his laughter.

"She went out with her girlfriends, so it's just me here. Please hurry; I can't handle this on my own," PJ pleaded over the phone.

Max rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be there soon. Just stay calm and try to keep an eye on it until I get there."

He quickly grabbed his keys and headed out the door, ready to face the dreaded spider.

Max hesitated, weighing the options of skateboarding to PJ's place or taking the bus, unsure of the best choice. The thought of Bradley's piercing gaze and taunting remarks from their last encounter on the bus lingered in Max's mind, casting a shadow over his decision-making process.

With a determined nod and a quick, decisive movement, he snatched up his trusty skateboard, swiftly navigated his way to the bus stop, and confidently stepped onto the waiting bus destined for PJ's place.

As the bus lurched into motion, Max deftly secured a coveted seat beside the window, a familiar sense of comfort washing over him as he savored the rhythmic hum of the engine.

At the lively city intersection, among the hustle and bustle of the lively streets, the bus came to a slow halt, allowing a various mix of passengers to embark and disembark, each with their own destination in mind.

As the bus jolted forward with a gentle sway, a young woman in a flowing vintage floral dress, adorned with intricate lace details, gracefully took the vacant seat beside Max. Her delicate hands, adorned with vintage rings, carefully clutched a weathered novel, emanating a subtle fragrance of lavender that mingled with the faint hum of the bus.

Max's gaze shifted, landing on a girl with cascading chestnut locks that danced with the rhythm of the bus, her warm smile reaching her eyes. Max nodded in greeting before turning his attention back to the window, watching the world pass by.

Normally he would flirt and strike up a conversation, but he wasn't in the mood for small talk today. He preferred to lose himself in the passing scenery, finding peace in the quiet moments of reflection that the bus ride offered.

Today, he simply wanted to be alone with his thoughts and let the world outside his window be his only companion.

Feeling disappointed and frustrated, Max couldn't help but let his emotions sink as he searched in vain for Bradley at the bus stop. Continuing its route, the bus passed by several familiar stops, but Bradley was nowhere to be seen.

As they passed each vibrant street in the lively city, Max felt his disappointment grow, but he decided to suppress it, redirecting his attention to the lively sights and sounds surrounding him. Upon reaching his stop, Max stepped off the bus, his eyes scanning the bustling crowd for any sign of familiarity.

Wondering why he would have this guy who was stuck in his head for days, letting himself to have his hope so high. Max's heart sank as he realized Bradley was nowhere in sight. Despite his disappointment, he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the mysterious guy who had captured his attention.

A random person bumped into Max, jolting him out of his thoughts. Exuding rudeness, the stranger cast a disdainful sneer at Max, a silent yet cutting gesture, before seamlessly vanishing into the ebb and flow of the bustling crowd.

Max shook his head. Feeling a mix of frustration and annoyance, Max grumbled under his breath, 'I hate city,' before swiftly moving himself forward on his skateboard towards the tall apartment building where PJ and his fiancée, Selena, lived.

Chapter Text

Max stood in front of the weathered wooden door, its paint chipped and faded from years of use. From within, a muffled voice beckoned, "Come in!" creating an air of mystery and anticipation.

Pushing the creaking door open, Max stepped into the dimly lit kitchen, where PJ, wielding a broom like a knight's sword, stood transfixed by a minuscule spider dangling in the corner, his eyes wide with alarm.

A mischievous grin played on Max's lips as he casually slipped his hands into his pockets, stifling a chuckle before teasingly remarking, "Well, well, is that the notorious intruder who raided the joint?".

"Max, you know I hate spiders; I can't stand them," PJ replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and disgust, his gaze unwavering from the tiny arachnid that had invaded their peaceful kitchen.

Max, with a mischievous glint in his eye, couldn't resist cracking a joke.

"Don't worry, I'll stand guard and shield you from the eight-legged intruder that dared to invade your space," with a playful grin, he remarked before swiftly reaching for a tissue to remove the intruding spider, handling the situation with a mix of humor and efficiency.

PJ rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips in response to Max's playful banter.

"Thanks, I owe you one," PJ said, relieved that the spider was gone.

Max winked playfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "No problem at all, just fulfilling my duty as the fearless spider slayer extraordinaire," he quipped.

PJ chuckled, feeling relieved as he watched Max bravely handle the spider issue in the dimly lit room.

"You're my hero," he said jokingly, causing Max to laugh.

The silence was interrupted by a sudden, low rumble from Max's stomach, a clear indication of his day-long neglect of food, prompting him to acknowledge his hunger.

"When is the last time you ate?" PJ asked, noticing Max's hunger.

Max shrugged nonchalantly, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "I lost track of time," he admitted.

"Alright, my treat," PJ offered with a grin, eager to repay Max for his spider-slaying heroics and show his appreciation for their friendship. Max's grin widened as he accepted the invitation, his mind already racing with thoughts of what delectable meal he would choose.

"How about a cheesesteak?" Max suggested with a shrug, already picturing the savory dish in his mind. Together, they strolled out of the familiar building, eager to explore the bustling city streets awaiting them.

"Yeah, that sounds good," PJ nodded as Max's mouth watered at the thought of a delicious cheese steak.

Their leisurely stroll down the bustling city streets immersed them in a tapestry of vibrant sights and sounds, each corner revealing the pulse of urban life. The convenience of having all amenities within walking distance highlighted the charm of city living, creating a rich backdrop for their spontaneous adventure. The effortless flow of impromptu adventures added a touch of spontaneity and charm to their outing.

Max and PJ settled into a cozy spot, the gooey cheese from the sub clinging to their fingers, eliciting a contented sigh from Max. The tantalizing scent of grilled onions and melted cheese wafted through the air, igniting Max's appetite and causing his stomach to emit an audible growl. The taste of cooked steak and cheese with onions. The combination of flavors exploded in his mouth.

A joyful grin spread across Max's face, his eyes lighting up with delight as he unconsciously swayed in his seat, completely immersed in the culinary delight before him.

"So where do you think Bobby is at now?"

"I dunno, probably two or three states away from here," PJ chuckled.

Max wiped his mouth with a napkin, savoring the last bite of his sandwich. " Ah, I understand. And how is Selena doing, by the way? How is Selena doing, by the way?"

PJ's eyes lit up as he began to gush about his fiancée, Selena, recounting their shared dreams and the excitement of planning their future together. "She's doing great. We're actually planning our wedding for next spring," PJ beamed. Max smiled.

"Oh my god," Max gasped, "next spring for sure?"

PJ exclaimed, his eyes shining with happiness, "For sure. Bro, I'm fucking excited. It is about time. Always wanted her to be my wife." Pj exclaimed, his eyes shining with happiness. PJ expressed his anticipation, "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with her, building memories and dreams together."

Raising his water bottle in a toast, Max declared, "Here's to a lifetime of happiness together, filled with love, laughter, and adventures."

Pj chuckles as he lends over the table, his arms crossed. PJ chuckled as he leaned over the table, crossing his arms, and asked, "So... how about you?"

Max shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the words tumbling out in a rush, "You know.. Ol' shit, ol' shit. I just can't shake this guy from my mind," Max sighed, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation.

Pj arched a curious eyebrow, "Who are you talking about?"

"You remember that guy from the bus, right? The deaf man with the most captivating blue eyes? I just can't seem to get him out of my mind. It's like he's stuck there, haunting my thoughts," Max confessed with a sheepish grin.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Max rested his chin on his hand, his gaze lost in the distance as he pondered deeply.

Pj chuckled heartily, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Looks like you've got a crush, man," he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

Scoffing at the teasing tone, Max rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, his tone a mix of defensiveness and uncertainty. "Shut up. It's not like that," he retorted, his mind racing with doubts about the situation. "I barely know him. I barely know how to talk with him. Besides, he probably wouldn't be interested in me anyway," Max added with a sigh. "But those eyes, man, they're just so blue."

Pj raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he observed Max's conflicted emotions. "Well, you'll never know unless you try. Who knows, he might be interested in getting to know you too."

Max's jaw dropped in disbelief, his eyes widening in shock at PJ's unexpected advice. "There is no way he is interested. I'm just not his type," Max said, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears as he battled his own doubts and fears.

Pj smirked, "Sure, keep telling yourself that."

Max knew that PJ is not that dumb and could see right through him.

He couldn't deny the truth, he was definitely crushing on the guy from the bus.

Chapter Text

Max paced PJ’s living room, the floorboards creaking beneath each frustrated step. He couldn’t stop thinking about the guy from the bus—the way his blue eyes had lingered in Max’s mind like a song on repeat.

PJ, lounging on the couch with his phone, looked up from the screen. “You’re wearing out my floor, man.”

Max stopped but didn’t say anything. He folded his arms tightly, staring out the window at nothing in particular.

“Okay, what’s really going on?” PJ set his phone down. “Is it about that guy again?”

Max’s jaw clenched. “No.”

PJ raised an eyebrow. “Liar.”

Max threw his hands up. “Fine! Yeah, it is. Happy now?”

“Why are you getting so worked up about this?” PJ leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What’s the big deal?”

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing!” Max burst out. “I barely talked to him. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. And even if I did, what would I say? I don’t know sign language. He’d take one look at me fumbling around like an idiot and—”

“Stop.” PJ cut him off, his tone firm but not unkind. “You’re spiraling, man. Take a breath.”

Max inhaled sharply, holding the air in his chest before releasing it slowly.

“You’re afraid,” PJ said softly. “I get it. But sitting here tearing yourself apart isn’t going to help. You can’t control whether you see him again. What you can control is how ready you are if it happens.”

Max stared at him, the words sinking in. “And how do I do that?”

PJ grinned. “You start by learning. Take a sign language class.”

Max blinked. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious. If this guy’s on your mind that much, why not try? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Max didn’t answer right away. The idea felt both terrifying and oddly hopeful. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“You’re really not going to let me wallow, are you?”

PJ smirked. “Nope.”

After a long pause, Max sighed. “Fine. I’ll look up some classes.”

“There’s the Max I know.” PJ leaned back with a satisfied grin.

And just like that, the tightness in Max’s chest loosened, replaced by a flicker of something new: determination.

Max had never felt more out of place. As he stood in the entrance of the sign language class, he couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing here. His palms were sweaty, his heart raced, and his mind swirled with doubts. What if he looked stupid? What if he messed up? What if Bradley wasn’t even interested in him?

But then, as he looked around the room, Max was met with an unexpected sense of comfort. The classroom was cozy, a quiet hum of people already deep in conversation as they practiced signs. The walls were covered in posters of hands forming different signs, and the air felt different—calm, welcoming.

A woman in her early thirties stood at the front, smiling as she greeted new arrivals. “Hi! You must be Max. We’re just about to start. Grab a seat wherever you like.”

Max nodded, offering her a sheepish smile before he slowly made his way to an empty spot in the middle of the room. He tried to settle into his seat but found himself fidgeting, his nerves still getting the best of him. He’d signed up for this class on a whim, driven by nothing more than a feeling—a desire to connect with someone he barely knew but couldn’t seem to forget.

The instructor clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone, let’s begin with the basics. First things first—welcome to American Sign Language. We’re going to start with the alphabet today.”

Max’s eyes widened. The alphabet? He had expected to dive right into phrases or conversations. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized this made sense. He needed to start from the very beginning.

The instructor smiled warmly and began demonstrating the hand shapes for each letter. Max watched intently, trying to mimic the movements with his own hands. At first, it felt awkward, the shapes unfamiliar and clumsy, but he stuck with it, repeating the motions silently under his breath.

“Remember, sign language is all about communication, not perfection,” the instructor continued. “So don’t worry if it’s a little slow at first. We’re here to learn, and it’s okay to make mistakes.”

Max couldn’t help but feel a little relieved. He didn’t need to be perfect—he just needed to try. His mind wandered briefly to Bradley—how was he supposed to even start a conversation with him? Would he be able to make Bradley understand that he wasn’t just some random guy who happened to be in the same bus stop? That he was… interested?

By the end of the class, Max had learned to sign his name, a few basic phrases like “hello” and “thank you,” and the alphabet. It wasn’t much, but it felt like the first step toward something meaningful. Max felt a sense of accomplishment as he packed up his things, though his thoughts still lingered on Bradley.

As he walked out of the classroom, he checked his phone and saw a text from PJ.

PJ: How’d it go?

Max smiled, his fingers hovering over the keys for a moment before he typed a response.

Max: It went well. It’s going to take time, but I’m excited to learn.

He pressed send and felt a rush of anticipation. Maybe this would be the start of something—something more than just figuring out how to say hello.

Max had been attending the sign language class for a few weeks now, and while he still had a long way to go, he was starting to feel a small sense of progress. The anxiety from his first day had been replaced by a quiet determination to learn. Every class felt like a small victory, but there was still one thing weighing on his mind.

He hadn’t seen Bradley since that day on the bus. Max had no idea when he would run into him again or if he ever would. It was easy to feel disheartened when the person he was learning this language for seemed so distant, almost like a fleeting dream. But as the days passed, he found himself coming back to the classes week after week, not out of obligation but because there was something about it—something about learning to communicate—that kept him going.

In today’s class, they were practicing simple phrases—introductions, basic questions, and responses. Max felt his hands moving with more confidence than when he first started. Still, a small part of him couldn’t shake the question: What’s the point if I never see him again?

As if on cue, the instructor asked the class to pair up and practice asking each other, “What’s your name?” Max looked around, searching for a partner. His gaze landed on someone across the room—a new student who was still fumbling with the signs.

Max hesitated for a moment but then made his way over to the new student. He offered a friendly smile as he signed, “What’s your name?”

The new student, a young woman with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, smiled back nervously and signed her name slowly, “Hailey.” Max repeated it to himself silently, trying to remember.

“Max.”

They exchanged a few more basic phrases, working through the motions of introductions. Despite the initial awkwardness, Max found that the language, the process of learning and connecting with someone—even if it was just for a few minutes—felt oddly fulfilling.

When the practice session ended, the instructor moved on to the next activity, and Max couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment.

As he was packing up his things, he caught himself glancing toward the door, half-expecting to see Bradley walk in, even though he knew it was unlikely. It was like a reflex, something he couldn’t control. His mind wandered back to their brief interaction on the bus, to the way Bradley had smiled, even if it was brief. Maybe it wasn't just a smile; it was more like a smirk, but he was still cute.

He wondered if Bradley ever thought about him or if it had just been another random encounter in a sea of faces.

Max stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, the soft clink of his water bottle reminding him that his thoughts had drifted again. He realized he didn’t know what to expect anymore. Maybe Bradley was still out there somewhere; maybe he wasn’t.

But as Max walked out of the classroom, he reminded himself that the classes weren’t just about Bradley—they were about connecting, about understanding. About learning a language that spoke to more than just words.

He didn’t need to know when or if he would see Bradley again. The act of learning, the connection he was building with each sign, each phrase—it was enough for now.

Max walked out into the cool evening air, his thoughts swirling as he made his way home. The quiet hum of the campus seemed to fade as he turned over everything he’d learned that day—the signs, the phrases, the simple connection with a stranger in class. Still, Bradley lingered in his mind, a presence he couldn’t quite shake.

By the time Max reached his room, the weight of the day had settled on him. He threw his bag onto the bed and sat down, staring at his phone as the silence in the room pressed in around him. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, the unanswered questions from the bus, from the class, swirling again in his mind.

Without thinking, Max let his hands fall to his sides, his fingers unconsciously mimicking the signs from class—slowly tracing the shapes of the alphabet. He mumbled under his breath, repeating the letters to himself, “A, B, C, D..." The rhythm of his hands felt familiar now, comforting in a way. It was as if his body had already started to speak the language, even when his mind wasn’t fully present.

The screen was dark, and the silence in the room pressed in on him like the weight of all the unanswered questions swirling in his mind. It had been months since he met Bradley on the bus, and despite his attempts to focus on his assignments and his growing interest in ASL, Bradley was still a lingering presence in the back of his mind.

Should he keep going with the ASL class? He thought about dropping it. The uncertainty of ever seeing Bradley again gnawed at him, making him feel silly for investing time in something that might not lead anywhere. But as he thought more about it, he realized something.

Learning ASL wasn’t just about Bradley. It was about something deeper—a way to connect with a world he didn’t fully understand, a challenge he’d always enjoyed. It wasn’t just about the possibility of seeing Bradley again; it was about broadening his perspective, expanding his ability to communicate with people.

Max ran a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping him as he looked at his books, the ASL textbook resting beside his worn-out notebook. He didn’t know when or even if he’d ever run into Bradley again, but for the first time in a while, he felt a little more grounded in something outside of the constant grind of schoolwork.

He opened the textbook again, the pages filled with signs and symbols that were beginning to make more sense. Maybe the class wouldn’t lead to anything immediate. Maybe he would never see Bradley again. But that didn’t have to be the point.

With a determined nod, Max picked up his pencil and began to practice the next set of signs. He couldn’t help but wonder where Bradley was now. Did he still take the bus at the same time? Was he still living in the area? Max wasn’t sure, but he figured he had to keep learning—if for nothing else, then for himself.

After all, the world was bigger than one bus ride.

Chapter Text

Max walked through the coffee shop, the hum of chatter and clinking cups filling the air. He’d been feeling restless lately, unsure of where his sign language journey was headed. The classes were helping, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was just going through the motions without any real connection. And Bradley, the reason he’d started learning, seemed like an impossible dream—distant and unreachable.

But today, something was different.

As he ordered his coffee, Max’s eyes landed on a woman sitting at a table, signing with a friend. The signs were fluid, familiar yet still intimidating, but there was something about seeing the language in motion that made it feel…real. He paused, his heart skipping a beat. He’d been learning for weeks now, but seeing someone actually using it in front of him stirred a deep curiosity inside.

Without thinking, he grabbed his drink and slowly walked over to her table. He hesitated for a moment, the fear of making a mistake gnawing at him. He had only just started—what if he embarrassed himself? What if she didn’t want to interact with a beginner? But before he could second-guess himself, she noticed him approaching and smiled warmly. Max took a breath.

“Hi, what is… Your name?” he began, his voice a little unsure but determined. “I’m learning ASL."

"My name is Anna," Anna signed, as Max looked at her friend, "Penelope."

The girls used their sign names; Anna's sign name was the sign for candy, and Penelope's sign name was a sign for mascara.

Max finds this very interesting.

"The name is Max. Can I ask you girls something?”

They nodded, their eyes bright with encouragement. Max’s hands fidgeted slightly before he signed a simple greeting—something he’d learned in class.

Anna’s expression shifted into one of warmth. She replied, signing back, and Max could tell from the way she moved her hands that she was experienced.

But instead of just answering, she tilted her head slightly and signed, “How long have you been learning?”

Max smiled, excited to be part of a real conversation. He signed back, “A few weeks. But I’m still learning. I’m not good yet.”

The girls nodded with understanding, their smile remaining kind.

Penelope signs, “That’s okay. Everyone starts somewhere. What made you want to learn?”

Max hesitated, then shrugged. He’d never really thought about it in such a straightforward way before. But now that she was asking, he felt the need to explain.

“I met someone,” Max said slowly, choosing his words carefully in ASL. “On the bus. He was… deaf. I wanted to talk to him, but I couldn’t. So, I started learning.”

Penelope's brown eyes softened, and she nodded again. She signed, “That’s beautiful. But what do you want to learn next? How do you want to use the language?”

Max blinked, caught off guard by the question. He hadn’t really thought beyond just learning it. The idea of connecting with someone, of understanding a whole community, had been enough to drive him until now. But now, as she signed the question, he felt the weight of it.

“I don’t know,” Max admitted, his hands awkwardly moving as he tried to express his thoughts. “I guess I want to connect with people. I want to be able to communicate with anyone—whether it’s with him or others… I just want to understand.”

Anna smiled, her hands making a gentle, encouraging motion. “That’s a good reason. Keep asking questions. That’s how you learn more. Don’t just learn signs—learn the people. Their world. Their stories.” Penelope nodded her head in agreement with Anna.

Max felt a sense of clarity wash over him. For the first time, he realized that learning ASL wasn’t just about mastering words or signs—it was about understanding people, their lives, and their experiences.

He signed slowly, “What’s your story? Why did you start learning?”

Anna's face softened as she signed back, telling him about how she had grown up in a deaf family. Her parents, her siblings, and even her grandparents were all deaf, so sign language had always been a part of her life. She signed with passion, explaining how she became a teacher to help others bridge the gap.

Penelope shared her story next, revealing that she had lost her hearing as a child due to an illness. Learning ASL was a way for her to reconnect with the world and find a sense of belonging within the deaf community.

Max listened intently, fascinated by their stories, the fluidity of their signs, and the deep emotion behind every gesture. He realized how much he still had to learn—not just about the language, but about the culture, the people, and the world she was a part of.

As their conversation continued, Max couldn’t help but ask more questions. “What’s it like being in the deaf community?” he asked.

The girls look at each other, Anna smiling warmly before answering,

“Being in the deaf community is like belonging to a family that shares its own rich culture and language. It’s incredibly fulfilling—you have a deep sense of connection, mutual support, and pride in who we are. Our language, ASL, isn’t just a way to communicate; it’s an art form full of expression and emotion. Of course, it comes with challenges. We often have to navigate a society that isn’t designed for us, and that can feel isolating at times. But overall, the strength, creativity, and resilience within the community make it a place of genuine warmth and understanding.”

“What’s the hardest part about communicating with people who don’t know ASL?”

“The toughest part is the constant struggle to bridge a gap that most hearing people don’t even realize exists. Many assume that a few gestures or lip-reading is enough, not understanding that ASL is a fully developed language with its own grammar and nuance. This misunderstanding can make everyday communication frustrating—imagine having to explain simple ideas repeatedly or feeling that your words aren’t fully heard because they’re filtered through someone else’s limited knowledge. It can create a sense of isolation because you’re not just sharing words; you’re sharing a part of your identity. It takes extra effort to be understood, and that can be emotionally draining.”

Max's eyes widened open at her, realizing for the first time the challenges and frustrations that come with relying on lip-reading alone.

Max’s brow furrowed as he processed Anna's words, the weight of them sinking in. “So… they just assume they are less capable or something?"

He couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice, the shock at realizing just how little many people understood about what it meant to be deaf. His gaze softened, a mix of sympathy and frustration pulling at him.

Anna's expression remained steady, her eyes calm but tired.

“It’s not that they intentionally think we are inferior,” she explained, her hands moving slowly as she spoke. “It’s more about ignorance—people just don’t realize how much more there is to communication than just a few gestures or lip-reading. It can be exhausting to have to constantly prove that you’re just as capable, just as worthy of being heard. Like, the most common is… people will not tell you what happened; they'll think it's a burden to repeat themselves, so they will say, Oh, that's nothing, or Never mind; I will tell you later." She paused, a hint of frustration crossing her face before she continued, "It's not just about hearing the words; it's about feeling included and valued in the conversation."

Penelope rolled her eyes. "I hate that shit."

Max took in the words, feeling the sting of the reality Anna was describing. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, unsure how to respond to the heaviness of the conversation. Finally, he just nodded, his voice quieter now, almost reflective. “I had no idea… I really didn’t.”

She gave a small, understanding smile. “Most people don’t. But now you do. And that’s something.”

Max took a moment to absorb Anna's words, his mind racing with the weight of the information. He could feel his own frustration rising—he could relate to the feeling of being misunderstood. But then he thought about the struggle Bradley had described. “That sounds really tough,” he said softly, his voice tinged with empathy.

After a brief pause, Max shifted slightly in his seat, a question forming in his mind. “So… if I want to make sure I’m being more respectful, and I really want to understand—how can I do better? What can I do to help bridge that gap, especially with the people who don’t know ASL?” He felt a bit hesitant asking, but he wanted to do right by the people in the deaf community.

He met Anna's eyes with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. “I mean… any advice would mean a lot.”

“Well,” she started slowly, “it’s important to be patient, not just with us, but with yourself, too. It’s easy to get frustrated when you’re trying to learn something new, especially when the language barrier is so big. But the more you try, the more it shows you care. So, keep learning—whether it’s through ASL or just talking with us. It’s not about doing everything perfectly; it’s about the effort. Just being open, being willing to make mistakes, and showing that you’re trying to understand means a lot. And… if you don’t know something, just ask. We don’t mind answering.”

Anna paused for a moment, her friend Penelope's hands shifting as she found the right words.

“Another thing—don’t assume that just because someone’s deaf, they want to be treated like they’re different or inferior. Treat us like people. Like you would anyone else. If you approach it from a place of respect, that makes all the difference.”

Max nodded, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders.

Each question opened up new insights, and he found himself more and more fascinated by the richness of the world he was starting to understand.

After a while, the girls smiled and waved goodbye, leaving Max feeling like he’d gained more than just a handful of new signs. He’d gotten a glimpse into a new world—a world he was only beginning to explore.

Max stepped out of the coffee shop, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. He hadn’t met Bradley, and maybe he wouldn’t for a while. But that didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that he was learning. He was connecting. And as he walked down the street, he couldn’t help but feel a quiet excitement about where this journey might take him.

Maybe the next time he saw someone signing, he wouldn’t hesitate. Maybe, just maybe, he’d ask even more questions.

Or better yet, he'd make them feel like they truly belong.

Chapter Text

Max practiced his signs more often now, carving out moments in his day to rehearse the fluid motions his hands had started to remember. It had become a habit, almost second nature—fingers shaping words in the air whenever he was alone or had a free moment. He didn’t even need to think about it anymore; it was like breathing. ASL was no longer something foreign or forced. It was a part of him now. While Max still struggled with certain signs, he no longer felt awkward or out of place in class. His hands, once clumsy and unsure, were now more confident. Confidence was a fragile thing, but it was growing. Slowly. Carefully. Max practiced constantly, even when no one was watching.

Leaving his ASL class for the day, he stepped out of the college building, stretching until his back gave a satisfying pop.

The coolness of the late afternoon air hit him like a breath of fresh air, clearing his head. His body felt looser, lighter, like he was finally releasing the tension he’d carried for months.

The anxiety of starting something new—something difficult—had started to fade. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but he was getting better. And that was enough for now.

The sun hung low in the sky, bathing the campus in a soft orange glow that made everything feel calmer. The golden hour light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows on the pavement. Max stopped for a moment to take it all in, letting the peace of the moment sink into his bones.

He’d been so caught up in the stress of school, trying to juggle everything—his classes, his personal growth, the pressure of trying to be better at something so important to him—that it was easy to forget there were moments like this. Moments where everything seemed to fall into place, even if just for a little while.

He set down his skateboard, pushed off the pavement, and let the rhythm of the wheels center him. The steady click-click-click of the wheels hitting cracks in the sidewalk was grounding—a reminder that he was moving forward, not just physically, but in life.

A burst of laughter from the campus lawn broke his train of thought. Turning his head, Max spotted Bobby, PJ, and Selena lounging under a large oak tree.

Bobby was sprawled out on the grass like he didn’t have a care in the world, a lazy grin plastered across his face. His orange hair was disheveled in a way that made him look like he’d just rolled out of bed. PJ sat cross-legged beside him, a notebook open in his lap, scribbling down notes with careful attention. Selena, true to form, leaned over PJ’s shoulder, likely offering some dramatic commentary on whatever he was writing.

Max couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Hey, guys!” he called out, skating over to them.

Bobby’s head snapped up. “Max!” He shot to his feet and jogged over, throwing a casual arm around Max’s shoulders. The familiar scent of weed lingered in the air, a permanent part of Bobby’s wardrobe.

“You’re just in time,” Bobby said, steering Max toward the others. “We’re hitting up that new cafe near the park. Supposed to have the best pastries in town.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Best pastries according to who?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bobby said with a shrug. “Pastries are pastries.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Selena chimed in, arms crossed. “He hasn’t even tried them yet.”

“Details,” Bobby said dismissively.

PJ looked up from his notes and gave Max a soft, welcoming smile. “It’s a nice spot. Great place to chill.”

Max nodded. “I’m in.”

They started walking together, the conversation flowing as easily as it always did with this group.

Selena, ever the queen of sass, launched into a rant about Bobby’s procrastination habits. “Seriously, Bobby, how do you forget an assignment that’s due today? It’s like you’re allergic to responsibility.”

“I didn’t forget,” Bobby said, puffing out his chest with exaggerated pride. “I just didn’t care enough to start.”

Selena rolled her eyes. “That’s your excuse for everything.”

“It’s a solid philosophy,” Bobby shot back with a wink.

PJ gave Bobby a sideways glance. “Maybe try doing the assignment before it’s due once in a while. You might surprise yourself.”

Bobby threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Next time, I’ll start ten whole minutes earlier. Happy now?”

Selena groaned, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Barely.”

“Speaking of procrastination,” Selena said, shifting her attention to PJ, “you’re not off the hook either.”

PJ raised an eyebrow. “What did I do?”

“You promised me feedback on my latest poem like two weeks ago,” Selena said, poking his arm. “I need it for my poetry collection.”

PJ held up his notebook. “I didn’t forget. I’m working on it.”

Bobby, eager to stir the pot, leaned over to inspect the notes. “Wait. This is the masterpiece she’s been waiting for?” He let out a low whistle. “Good luck with that.”

PJ shot him a look. “It’s thoughtful feedback. Not everything has to be about you.”

Selena leaned over to read the notes. “Hmm. Not bad. Maybe you’re not the world’s slowest reviewer after all.”

Bobby clasped his hands dramatically. “Is that…a compliment? I don’t know who you are anymore.”

Selena smirked. “Careful, Bobby. I’m still the queen of sass. Don’t make me dethrone you.”

Max wiped a tear from his eye, his stomach aching from laughing too hard. It felt good—simple, easy.

And then he saw him.

A figure sat by the pond, partially turned away. Golden-brown hair glinted in the sunset, and a book rested on his lap. His hands moved with a steady rhythm, turning pages slowly as if he were lost in whatever he was reading.

As if sensing his gaze, the figure shifted just enough for Max to see his face. And that’s when Max’s heart stumbled in his chest.

Those blue eyes.

Those blue eyes that had been haunting him for months.

Bradley.

It had been months since the last time Max had seen him. Their strange, awkward encounter on the bus flashed through Max’s mind—the way he’d felt ignored, brushed off, and embarrassed all at once. He’d replayed that day too many times, trying to make sense of it. Maybe Bradley had been in a bad mood. Or maybe he hadn’t cared enough to give Max a second thought.

But now, none of that mattered. Seeing Bradley again stirred something deep inside Max.

An ache.

A pull.

Max wanted to talk to him. Wanted to reconnect. But doubt crept in just as quickly. What if Bradley didn’t remember him? What if he still didn’t want to talk? Or worse—what if he dismissed Max again with the same cold indifference?

But then, slowly, Max remembered. He wasn’t the same person he had been on that bus. He’d changed—learned. Grown. He was more confident now. A little more sure of himself. He couldn’t let this moment slip away again.

Max bit his lip, hesitation gripping him for a second longer.

But then, he made his decision.

“Guys, I’ll catch up later.”

PJ blinked. “Wait, what—”

But Max was already pushing off on his skateboard, gliding toward the pond.

He stopped a few feet away and let his board roll to a slow halt. Bradley was still absorbed in his book. His face was partially hidden by the sunlight, but the furrow of his brow and the slight tension in his jawline were unmistakable.

For a moment, Max hesitated. Bradley looked so focused, so closed off. But the pull was too strong to ignore.

Max raised his hand in a small wave.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then Bradley’s gaze lifted—and their eyes met.

Time seemed to freeze.

Max’s heart thumped in his chest, a nervous flutter in his stomach, but he forced a smile and waved again, more confidently this time.

Recognition flickered across Bradley’s face. His blue eyes narrowed slightly, and his whole posture shifted—shoulders tensing, jaw clenching. He blinked, the flicker of something behind his eyes almost imperceptible. Bradley hesitated, gripped the edges of his book, and looked away for just a moment—maybe to collect himself or maybe to shield whatever he was feeling. Then, with a heavy sigh, he closed the book and leaned back, visibly bracing himself.

Max held his breath, his stomach tight. He could already tell this was going to be more complicated than he had hoped.

Bradley’s expression hardened, cool and distant, his walls thick as ever.

Max swallowed but held his ground. Slowly, he began to sign. “Hey.”

Bradley’s brows furrowed. After a moment, he signed back, sharp and dismissive: “Leave me alone. What am I saying? It’s not like he knows signs. Why is everyone bothering me today?”

The words stung, but Max’s eyes widened. He understood.

Instead of stepping back, Max leaned in slightly, a cheeky grin playing on his face as he signed, “So, this is the part where I get a gold star for effort, right?”

Bradley froze. The shock on his face was immediate. His eyes widened, lips parting slightly as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.

For just a moment, there was a shift in Bradley’s posture—his body language faltering, betraying him. Max could almost see a crack in his carefully constructed mask.

And Max couldn’t help but grin. He’d cracked it—if only for a moment.

Chapter Text

The pencil moved slowly across the page, its tip catching the light as it sketched the outline of the tree by the pond. Bradley’s focus was absolute. Sketching was one of the only times he felt at peace. In these moments, he wasn’t Bradley—the son of rich, perfection-obsessed parents. He was just Bradley, hands wrapped around a pencil, capturing the world as he saw it. It was easier this way.

The golden hour cast a warm glow over everything, softening the edges of his reality. He leaned in closer, trying to get the shading just right. He didn’t have time for distractions. Soon, his parents would call, demanding updates, reminding him of his obligations, or worse—summoning him home to put on the mask, to play their game.

But for now, in this sun-soaked quiet, he could forget.

At least for a little while.

Even as his pencil moved, his thoughts tangled, a constant war waging beneath the surface. He tried to bury everything, to keep himself locked behind the walls he had spent years building.

And then he felt it.

The shift in the air. The quiet breaking.

Bradley didn’t need footsteps or rustling leaves to know someone was near. His body tensed before his gaze even lifted.

A shadow stretched across the grass.

Bradley’s pulse quickened, but he refused to turn around. It was too late to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

Max. Of all people.

Max had been the one to get under his skin, in a way Bradley still didn’t understand. That stupid grin, the way he looked at Bradley on the bus, how he just… lingered in his mind despite every effort to push him out.

Bradley kept his eyes on the sketchbook, refusing to acknowledge him. If Max was looking for an easy conversation, he wouldn’t find one here.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Max lift a hand in a small, tentative wave.

Bradley hesitated. His walls cracked, just a little.

Then, before he could stop himself, his fingers moved.

Leave me alone. What am I saying? It’s not like he knows signs. Why is everyone bothering me today?

But then Max… Max did something unexpected.

Max signed back.

"So, this is the part where I get a gold star for effort, right?"

Bradley froze.

His fingers stopped mid-motion, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing.

Max was signing. Max was… speaking his language.

And not in that hesitant, choppy way hearing people sometimes did. His hands moved fluidly, confidently.

His heart hammered in his chest as the weight of the moment sank in. This wasn’t just a simple wave or an attempt at getting his attention. Max was reaching out.

Trying.

And Bradley didn’t know how to process it.

The weight of that realization hit harder than it should have. Bradley shouldn’t have cared. He’d spent so long keeping people at a distance, shutting out everything he didn’t want to feel.

But Max, damn him, had a way of breaking through.

For a second, Bradley almost wanted to smile. Almost.

But then the familiar surge of pride, of self-loathing, of no, not yet crashed over him.

Instead of answering, he dropped his gaze back to his sketchbook, forcing himself to focus on the lines of the tree. But the comfort of drawing felt distant now.

Max wasn’t leaving.

Bradley’s eyes flicked up again, against his better judgment.

The pressure in his chest, the desire to turn around and acknowledge Max, was overwhelming. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t allow anyone to see him like that. Couldn’t let anyone get that close.

Bradley’s eyes flicked back to Max’s face. A gapped smile played on Max’s lips.

Not the unsure, awkward one from their first meeting, but one that seemed real. He had been expecting Max to back off, to show some hesitation, but there it was: the kind of grin that made everything in Bradley’s mind go still. For a moment, his guard dropped just enough to let that flutter of confusion escape.

Max was standing there, the sunset draping him in warm, golden light. The soft glow highlighted the vitiligo on his arms and face, turning his skin into a living canvas of light and shadow. The contrast was striking—almost mesmerizing.

He is always noticing things others might miss. His gaze lingered on Max’s gauged ears, the metal hoops shining faintly in the golden light as they caught the last rays of the sun. Bradley wasn’t sure why he found them so captivating. Maybe it was the way they framed Max’s face or how they subtly added to his edgy, effortless style. It was part of the puzzle that made Max… Max.

But it wasn’t just the piercings in his ears that grabbed Bradley’s attention. Whenever Max opened his mouth to speak or laugh, there was the quick flash of something else—a shiny glint from the small tongue piercing. The way it shimmered against his tongue whenever he moved it, the way Max’s lips parted just enough to reveal it, left Bradley’s focus locked there. He hated how drawn to it he was, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes were always searching, always taking in every little detail, every nuance, even if he tried to pretend he wasn’t.

Bradley had learned to notice everything. It was a skill born out of necessity. He couldn’t hear, but he could see—could read people in a way that no one else could, catching every shift in expression, every subtle change in body language. And Max, with his small quirks and understated beauty, was a challenge that Bradley didn’t know how to deal with. It made him uncomfortable, this feeling that stirred inside him, the way his eyes kept darting back to Max’s mouth, to the piercing, to the way Max was so effortlessly captivating.

Bradley swallowed hard, fingers twitching. A fleeting thought crossed his mind—sketching him, capturing the way Max looked right now.

But no. He shoved it down, forcing his gaze away.

Max was gorgeous. He had always been gorgeous.

But Bradley wouldn’t let that affect him.

Wouldn’t let himself fall into that vulnerability.

He clenched his jaw and signed, sharp and dismissive. "Go away."

Max grinned.

“You know,” Max signed, his fingers slow and deliberate, each word teasing. “You’re not very good at telling people to leave.”

Bradley’s eyes flickered with irritation, but he didn’t pull away. “What do you mean?” Bradley signed back, his movements stiff, trying to maintain that mask of indifference.

Max tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Well, for someone who’s so good at ignoring people, you sure are bad at making them go away.”

Bradley stiffened, hands twitching. He wanted to argue, to push back, but Max was watching him with that insufferable, knowing expression.

“Come on, Bradley,” Max signed, his grin widening. “You’re not fooling anyone. I can tell you don’t really want me to leave. You just don’t know how to admit it.”

Bradley’s jaw tightened, and Max could see him struggling. He was trying to keep up that wall, trying to keep Max at a distance, but Max was relentless.

“Is this how you usually deal with people? Just tell them to go away and hope they listen?” Max continued, tapping his fingers against his chest. “You need to work on your charm, man. You’re not exactly a people person, are you?”

Bradley shot him a quick, defensive look. But Max could see the crack in his mask—the way his eyes softened, even if just for a second. It was like a little victory for Max, and he couldn’t resist teasing him a bit more.

Bradley huffed, crossing his arms in front of him. “You’re impossible,” he signed, but Max could see the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. It almost looked like Bradley was fighting a smile.

Max leaned in, his grin wide. “You know, you’re not so tough when you’re this cute.”

Bradley froze, his face flushing ever so slightly. Max’s words hit their mark, and Bradley’s reaction was instant—his entire body stiffened. The cold indifference, the arrogance—it was all slipping.

Max stepped back, his teasing taking on a playful edge. “I knew it. You’re just a big softie hiding behind all that attitude.”

Bradley looked like he wanted to disappear, but Max could see the corners of his lips twitching again. Slowly, Bradley signs, “You’re so annoying.”

Max just laughed, his eyes sparkling with that familiar playfulness. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Bradley turned away, but Max wasn’t done.

“Can I see what you’re working on?”

Bradley stiffened, his heartbeat spiking.

No.

Absolutely not.

The sketchbook wasn’t just a collection of drawings—it was his escape. His safe space. The last thing he wanted was for Max to see it, to poke around, and to ask questions.

His hands snapped up immediately. "No."

Max didn’t back off. If anything, he looked more intrigued.

Bradley gritted his teeth. "Why are you even talking to me like we’re friends? I barely know you."

The words were defensive, sharper than intended. His own frustration burned hot in his chest. Why did Max keep pushing? Why did it feel so damn hard to shut him out when all Bradley wanted was to be left alone?

Max didn’t even flinch. He just leaned in, that damn glint in his eye.

"If you’re so protective of it, it must be something good."

Bradley’s stomach churned. His cheeks flushed, and he shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way Max’s words—his signs—were making him feel exposed. He tried to focus on the sketchbook, the way he clutched it against his body like a shield. He didn’t want to let Max see the things he’d created, the thoughts and feelings he’d poured into those pages. The idea of sharing any of it, even just a glimpse, made his insides twist in knots.

"I don’t need you prying into my stuff", he signed quickly, trying to end the conversation.

But Max just smiled, completely unfazed. Damn him. “Guess I’ll just have to keep guessing, huh? Maybe one day, you’ll trust me enough to show me. Until then, I’ll just have to imagine what kind of genius art you’re hiding.”

And Bradley hated—hated—that it made his heart stutter.

And he hated it. He hated how much he felt this pull, this urge to let Max in, to show him the side of himself that he kept locked away. To show him the art—the part of himself he’d never let anyone see.

Bradley fought it, but deep down, he couldn’t help but wonder… what if Max was the one person who wouldn’t judge? What if…?

He quickly pushed the thought away, his pride roaring back, forcing him to shut down whatever had begun to surface.

The sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in deep shades of purple and orange as the evening settled in. The streetlights flickered on, one by one, filling the campus with a soft, yellow glow. Bradley stood up from the grass, his sketchbook tucked under his arm, eyes scanning the area as if he was preparing to leave. He moved with the grace of someone who was always on the go, someone who never wanted to stay in one place for too long.

Max watched him for a moment, a hint of hesitation tugging at his chest. He had been teasing Bradley, pushing him, and though it had been fun, he couldn’t help but feel like there was something more he needed to say. Something that had been building up inside of him ever since their first encounter.

Bradley glanced at Max, his gaze flat and uninterested, before turning his head away to hide the flicker of something deeper. He didn’t want to show that he cared, didn’t want Max to think he was anything more than the casual stranger he appeared to be.

But Max couldn’t let him go just like that.

“Wait, wait!” Max called, his voice breaking the stillness of the evening. He grabbed Bradley's wrist.

Max cursed himself for forgetting Bradley was deaf.

Bradley stopped, his back still turned, one hand gripping the strap of his bag as if ready to walk away without a second thought. He turned his head just slightly, raising an eyebrow, the faintest hint of irritation on his face.

Max took a step forward, now standing in front of Bradley. “When I say I’m interested in you, I mean it,” he said, his words slow but sincere, his hands moving carefully as he signed. “I’d like to get to know you.”

Bradley didn’t answer right away. His eyes narrowed, the usual layers of indifference and arrogance coating his features.

Bradley didn’t say a word, but the air between them shifted.

Max quickly reached into his bag and pulled out a small piece of paper, scribbling something down before offering it to Bradley, his eyes bright with anticipation.

Bradley hesitated for a second, then took the paper, his fingers brushing lightly against Max’s as he did.

Max grinned. “Let’s text.”

Bradley stood frozen for a moment, staring at the paper in his hand as the words registered. He felt the weight of the sketchbook in his other arm, a strange mix of unease and curiosity swirling inside him. He hadn’t expected this.

Max waved a quick goodbye, his movements light, almost carefree, before turning to leave.

Bradley, still standing there, stared down at the paper, his thoughts a jumbled mess.

The night air was cool, but it did nothing to chill the heat he felt rising in his chest. He had told himself he wouldn’t let anyone in, that he wouldn’t let this strange pull toward Max affect him, but Max’s words, his determination, were enough to make him question everything.

Slowly, Bradley unfolded the small piece of paper, his fingers trembling slightly as he read Max’s name and number.

He was going to give it back, but Max was already gone.

But Bradley couldn’t help it. He looked down at the paper one last time, his heart beating a little faster.

The numbers were written there, taunting him like an unspoken challenge. Max had given him an opening, an invitation into something Bradley wasn’t sure he could handle, but there it was, real and undeniable.

His fingers hovered over the edge of the paper, but his mind screamed at him to put it down. It seemed too easy, too simple. But Bradley knew better than to trust simplicity.

Nothing was ever that easy, not for him.

He traced the paper with his fingers, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Every part of him wanted to throw the paper away, rip it up, and forget this ever happened. His walls had taken years to build, and they were strong—built on pride, on the need to protect himself from people like Max.

People who could slip through the cracks if he wasn’t careful.

But then Max’s words hit him like a punch to the gut: When I say I’m interested in you, I mean it.

The sincerity in Max’s hands was unsettling, the way Max looked at him as though he saw him—really saw him—without any pretense or judgment. It made Bradley’s chest tighten. He couldn’t let anyone get that close, not again.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his breath shallow. He hated this feeling. He hated that it was so hard to just walk away, to ignore the weight of what Max had said. His pride, his defenses—everything told him to back off.

To protect himself.

Bradley let out a frustrated breath, rubbing his temples. He had a choice. He could just ignore it. He could act like nothing happened, let this moment slip away like so many others before. But deep down, he knew he wasn’t done with Max. Not yet. Not by a long shot.

With a resigned sigh, he slipped the paper into his pocket, his fingers still trembling slightly. His mind raced, torn between what he wanted and what he feared. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to take the next step. But for the first time in ages, he was willing to consider it.

And that thought, more than anything else, scared him more than he cared to admit.

Chapter Text

Max glanced down at his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, his fingers hovering over the screen. No new messages. He let out a slow breath, his chest tight with both hope and frustration. He’d given Bradley his number, but now… now it was up to Bradley to decide whether or not he’d actually reach out.

His mind raced.

Was he being too impatient?

Too eager?

He didn’t know, but it didn’t stop him from checking his phone every few minutes, as if the next notification would be from Bradley, as if it would finally shatter the silence that had settled between them since they last saw each other.

Outside, the early spring air carried the scent of damp earth and fresh blossoms, a reminder that the seasons were shifting. The campus buzzed with life—students stretched out on the grass, some reading under the shade of newly budding trees, others laughing as they tossed a frisbee back and forth. The warmth of the sun wasn’t overbearing, just enough to make everything feel alive, renewed.

But Max wasn’t paying attention to any of it.

He tried to focus on the other things around him—the chatter of his friends, the hum of life happening around him—but his thoughts kept circling back to that one unanswered question: would Bradley text him or not?

He couldn’t deny the feeling that gnawed at him every time he thought about it. There was this deep, vulnerable hope that maybe—just maybe—Bradley might be thinking about him too. But then again, Bradley had always been distant and cautious, so it wouldn’t be surprising if he hesitated.

Max wasn’t even sure if he should have given Bradley his number in the first place. Had he pushed too hard? Made things awkward? He knew Bradley had his walls up, but he also knew Bradley wasn’t someone who easily let people in. What if Bradley didn’t want to talk to him? What if it was all too much for him?

The thought of Bradley pulling away again was enough to make Max’s heart skip. He couldn’t shake the fear that maybe he was setting himself up for disappointment. But he couldn’t stop hoping, couldn’t stop wanting it.

So, he waited. And waited. And waited.

With every passing second, it felt like the space between them grew larger, the uncertainty heavier. Yet, deep down, Max knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Even if Bradley hesitated, even if it took days or weeks, Max wouldn’t give up on him. He just hoped that, one day, Bradley would see that Max wasn’t going to disappear.

He looked at his phone again. Still nothing.

Maybe Bradley needed more time. Max could wait.

But God, he hoped it wasn’t for too long.

In fact, he did wait—too long. It had been a little bit longer than a week.

At first, he told himself to be patient. Bradley was hesitant, guarded—Max knew that. It made sense that he’d need time to decide whether or not to reach out. But after the first day of silence, then the second, then the third, Max started to wonder if he had miscalculated everything.

A week was a long time to ignore Max. Too long.

The hope he had clung to was starting to wither, replaced by something heavier.

Doubt.

Maybe Bradley had taken his number just to be polite. Maybe he had no intention of using it at all. The idea settled in Max’s chest like a weight, pressing against his ribs. He tried not to let it get to him, but how could he not? He wanted to believe that Bradley would reach out. He wanted to believe that he wasn’t just waiting for nothing.

It’s eating at him, but Max isn’t the type to wallow. He keeps moving forward—even if a part of him is still stuck waiting.

The smell of freshly cut grass lingered in the air as he made his way to Bean Café. The sidewalk was lined with flower beds, tiny specks of color beginning to push through the soil, reaching for the sun. A light breeze ruffled his hair, warm enough that he didn’t bother pulling his jacket tighter. Spring had fully settled in, wrapping everything in that golden-hour glow, but the warmth barely touched the restlessness inside him.

Max pushed open the glass door of Bean Cafe, the scent of roasted coffee beans and caramel wrapping around him like a second skin. The bell overhead chimed, lost in the symphony of hissing steam and quiet conversations. He hadn’t planned to come here. His feet just carried him—maybe because sitting in his room, staring at his phone, wasn’t doing him any favors.

Behind the counter, Selena moved like an artist at work, her hands swift and sure as she pulled an espresso shot. Stray curls framed her face, her eyes distant, like she was crafting lines of poetry in her head even as she worked.

Then, she spotted him. Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Well, well. A wandering soul darkens my doorway.” She placed a hand on her heart in mock sentiment. “Tell me, traveler, are you here for coffee, or are you seeking something more… existential?”

Max rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Coffee. Extra strong.”

Selena hummed, reaching for a cup. “Ah. A bitter drink for a bitter heart.”

“I’m not bitter.”

She poured the coffee and slid it across the counter. “Then why do you look like you’re waiting for a message from the universe?”

Max hesitated before taking the cup. He didn’t answer right away, just stared into the dark liquid. “It’s nothing.”

Selena raised an eyebrow. “Nothing? PJ says you’ve been staring at your phone like it’s whispering secrets you can’t quite hear.”

Max exhaled sharply. “PJ talks too much.”

Selena leaned in, resting her elbows on the counter. “You, my friend, are the tragic protagonist of your own poem right now. You’ve got that yearning look. The ‘I gave someone my number, and they haven’t texted’ look.”

Max flinched. Damn her.

Selena’s grin widened. “Ohhh. It’s him, isn’t it? The Bus Boy.”

“I swear—”

“Relax, I won’t call him that in front of him.” She tapped a finger against her temple. “I’m just observing the poetry of this moment. You, waiting. Him, silent. The anticipation stretches between you like an unfinished stanza.”

Max groaned. “I hate it when you get like this.”

Selena sipped her own drink, utterly unbothered. “And yet, here you are, seeking calm in my words.”

Max scowled at her, but she just pulled off her apron, slinging it onto the counter. “Lucky for you, I’m on break. So, come on, tragic hero. Tell me your tale of unspoken words and unanswered texts.”

Max huffed, but he didn’t protest when she linked her arm through his, steering him toward an empty booth. Maybe venting wasn’t the worst idea after all.

Max stared into his coffee, watching the steam rise in delicate, swirling tendrils before disappearing. It had been over a week. He wasn’t counting, not really, but the empty silence stretched longer with each passing day, pressing down on him like an invisible weight.

Across from him, Selena leaned on her elbows, watching him with that knowing look that made him want to both confess his troubles and change the subject immediately. “You’re brooding.”

“I’m not brooding.”

“You’re sulking over a cup of coffee.” She stirred her drink absentmindedly. “Very main-character-in-a-tragic-novel of you.”

Max let out a slow breath, rolling his cup between his hands. “It’s just frustrating.”

Selena tilted her head. “You mean the waiting?”

Max didn’t answer right away, but she already knew. He could see it in her smirk, the way she arched an eyebrow like she had solved the mystery before he even finished the first chapter.

“You gave him your number,” she said plainly, “but he didn’t give you his.”

Max’s jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

“So you’re stuck waiting.”

He exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “Exactly.”

Selena hummed, tapping her spoon against the rim of her cup. “He’s probably overthinking it.”

“Or he’s just ignoring me.” The words came out flatter than he intended.

Selena shook her head. “No. If he was going to ignore you, he wouldn’t have taken your number at all.”

Max wanted to believe that. He really did. But the doubt lingered, creeping in at the edges of his thoughts.

Selena tossed a sugar packet at him. “You’re torturing yourself over something that might not even be about you.”

Max caught the packet, turning it over in his fingers. “Then what’s it about?”

She shrugged. “Could be anything. Fear. Pride. Maybe he’s not used to someone actually wanting to stick around.”

Max frowned, but something about that last part gnawed at him. Bradley did seem like the type to keep his distance. Like he’d rather push someone away than risk them leaving on their own.

“So what do I do?”

Selena smirked, finishing the last sip of her coffee. “You wait. And try not to lose your mind in the process.”

Max huffed, dropping the sugar packet onto the table. “Yeah. Easy.”

Just as Max is about to change the subject, the café door swings open, letting in a rush of cold air—and Bradley walks in.

Max freezes. His fingers tighten around his coffee cup, the warmth suddenly forgotten. His pulse kicks up, thudding hard against his ribs. He struggles to make sense of the fact that Bradley is right there, as though the universe just dumped him into the same space, like some twisted coincidence.

It’s been over a week. A week of wondering, hoping, waiting—waiting for Bradley to reach out. Max checks his phone for the umpteenth time, but there’s nothing. Not a single message. Bradley’s absence is heavy, suffocating.

But now, here he is.

In his nice black light hoodie with jeans.

Bradley doesn’t see him at first. He’s focused on the barista, his hands already moving into the familiar motions of his routine, pulling out his wallet to pay. Max notices the slight tilt of his head—a subtle habit, a way of listening to the ambient noise, even if he can’t hear it. Bradley’s hood is up, his face mostly hidden, and he seems completely unaware of Max sitting only a few feet away.

Max should say something.

He should wave, or anything—anything to break the silence, to make this moment count.

But then—Bradley looks around.

For a heartbeat, their eyes meet.

Max freezes, caught in the pull of Bradley’s gaze. There’s something in his eyes—hesitation, recognition—but then, almost imperceptibly, Bradley blinks and looks away.

His expression shutters. He breaks the eye contact, just like that, as though nothing ever happened.

Max’s stomach tightens. The moment feels like it’s slipping through his fingers, and he can’t hold onto it.

Bradley turns to the counter, giving a nod as the barista hands him his coffee, a swift, polite smile exchanged. The movement is fluid, automatic—like everything is normal.

But to Max, it feels like a wall.

Bradley doesn’t glance back at him, not even once. Not even when he moves to grab his drink, not even when he turns toward the door. He doesn’t even seem to recognize Max’s presence anymore.

Max feels that sharp, crushing pang in his chest. He should call out, but the words die in his throat. Bradley is leaving without a single word, without even a sign of acknowledgment.

The door swings open, and Bradley steps out.

Max’s breath hitches as the world starts moving again, but the space around him feels wrong.

Empty.

He remains still, unable to move. His mind is racing, questioning everything. The conversation they had on the bus, the moments they shared before, all of it flashing before his eyes. What happened?

Selena, who’s been quietly watching, gives him a raised eyebrow. “Well… that was awkward.”

Max rubs a hand over his face. The frustration is mounting, pressing on him from all sides. He stares at his coffee, as though trying to make sense of the mess of emotions swirling inside. “I don’t get it,” he murmurs. “I gave him my number… Why hasn’t he called or texted? Why doesn’t he—” Max cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Maybe I’m just reading it all wrong.”

Selena studies him for a moment, her expression softening. “You really don’t think that, do you?”

Max shrugs half-heartedly. He wants to believe in what they shared, but now it feels like a lie, like maybe he was just too hopeful, too desperate for something that wasn’t even there.

Was Bradley ever interested?

His gaze lingers on the door.

Max didn’t think. His body moved before his brain could stop him.

One second, he was staring at the empty space where Bradley had been, his coffee growing cold in his hands. The next, he was pushing back his chair, nearly knocking it over in his haste.

Selena called his name, but it barely registered—his focus was locked on the door, on the fading glimpse of Bradley’s back disappearing onto the sidewalk.

His feet hit the pavement hard as he shoved his way out of the café, heart pounding against his ribs. He didn’t even know what he was going to say if he caught up. If. Bradley was fast, and Max was already cursing himself for hesitating even a second. But he couldn’t just sit there, drowning in the what-ifs, not when Bradley had been right there, close enough to reach.

The street was busy, the noise of cars and chatter filling the air, but Bradley walked with purpose, completely unaware that Max was chasing after him. Max picked up his pace, weaving through the crowd, breath quickening.

“Bradley!”

No response. Of course not.

Max scolded himself mentally, forgetting—again—that Bradley was deaf.

Stupid. He should know better by now.

His breath came fast as he pushed forward, weaving through the crowd, his hands itching to sign but useless at this distance. He needed to catch up, to get in front of Bradley somehow, but the guy walked like he had somewhere to be, like he was determined to put as much space between them as possible.

Max picked up his pace, nearly bumping into a stranger as he navigated around a slow-moving couple. Bradley was still a few steps ahead, completely unaware of the frantic chase happening behind him.

Almost there.

And then Bradley finally stopped—so did Max. He was out of breath, panting before clearing his throat. Not that he’d need to use his voice anyway. Pointless to clear his throat.

Max started to move but stopped when he saw Bradley’s hands moving.

He was signing to someone—to a guy bigger and taller than him.

Max froze, his breath still uneven as he took in the scene before him. Bradley’s hands moved fluidly, sharp and precise in a way that showed familiarity, comfort—ease. The tension that always seemed to coil in his shoulders wasn’t there.

The guy in front of him was taller and broader, with an easy stance that suggested confidence. His responses came just as fast, his own hands moving in a rhythm that matched Bradley’s, like this was second nature to them both.

Max felt something sink in his chest. He had never seen Bradley sign like that before. Not with him.

He suddenly felt stupid for chasing after him, for thinking—what, exactly? That Bradley had been avoiding him, ignoring his number out of fear or stubbornness? Maybe Max had been fooling himself. Maybe Bradley just didn’t care.

Still, he couldn’t look away.

Bradley was holding a coffee cup with one hand, and he was signing with his other. Max’s eyes narrowed as he tried to catch every movement, his mind translating the gestures.

“But Tank! My family? You know how they are. I can’t go alone.”

Tank’s face didn’t change much as he shook his head slowly, his body language calm, unaffected. He was clearly used to Bradley’s frantic energy, and it only made the contrast between them more striking.

Max watched Bradley’s frustration grow, his hand shaking slightly as he signed again, the gestures quicker, sharper, and more forceful now. The anger was clear on his face, his eyes darkening as he seemed to try to make Tank understand, almost pleading with him.

Tank didn’t seem to relent, though. He shook his head again, his response calm and collected. Max didn’t catch the full conversation, but it was clear enough—Tank was telling Bradley something that he didn’t want to hear.

Bradley’s reaction was immediate. His hand gripped the coffee cup tighter, his knuckles white. He signed something that Max couldn’t quite make out, but the way his jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a thin line made it clear he was beyond frustrated now.

Tank stood firm, offering no solution, only silence.

Max could sense the anxiety radiating off Bradley and could feel the internal conflict in every tense movement, in the way his shoulders hunched, like he was preparing for a fight. But Tank wasn’t biting. He remained calm and steady, refusing to give in to Bradley’s anger.

Bradley finally exhaled a sharp breath, his body seeming to deflate with the release of some of his tension. He glanced down at his coffee cup, his hand still gripping it with tight, angry fingers.

Max could see it—Bradley was vulnerable, torn between his need for control and the crushing weight of the expectations on him. It was a feeling Max understood all too well.

Then, without another word or look in Max’s direction, Bradley turned on his heel, walking away briskly.

Max stood frozen for a moment, still processing what he’d just witnessed, the lingering tension in the air making his skin prickle.

He hadn’t expected any of this. Hadn’t expected to see Bradley so raw, so unsettled. But there it was—Bradley, trying to fight back something he couldn’t control, something that was beyond him.

Max swallowed. He didn’t move, not yet. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next.

The silence in Bradley’s wake was the loudest thing he’d ever heard.