How Long Will This Last? (Maxley)

Hated By All But You

As much as Max tried not to, he ended up vomiting on Bradley's carpet in the morning. This was followed by Bradley ranting about how obnoxious Max was, and how he never should have let him spend the night, while Max scrubbed the stain out of the floor.
"I actually can't stand you. You know that?" Bradley said.

"If you just gave me two seconds of silence, that would be great," Max said.

"The level of audacity you have in that tiny little body of yours, is mind blowing."

"The amount of knowledge you have in that small brain is just as shocking."

"Shut up."

"Clever."

"Don't you have a class to get to?" Bradley questioned, pulling his shirt on.

Max tossed the dirty rag he used into the trash bin. "My head is still pounding. I don't think I'm up for it," he said.

"You're killing me."

Max stood. "Well, if my presence bothers you that badly, I'll get out of your hair," he said, sighing all too dramatically. He let his feet drag and he hung his head low, obviously trying to make a scene. He was going to milk his headache for all it was worth, even if he had to guilt trip Bradley, if it meant he could avoid his friends for just a little longer.

Bradley plopped down on the side of his bed and put his head in his hands. He sighed. "No, you can stay," he said, "I'm not gonna kick you out."
Bradley didn't know why he was allowing Max to stay as long as he pleased. Maybe he felt bad for once in his life. Or maybe he was finally giving in to what he wanted.
He lifted his head out of his hands. "But you have to make up with your friends. I can't have you living here."

"Right," Max agreed. He crossed the room to sit next to Bradley. "Your eye looks worse," he said.

"Your cheek looks worse."

"It's in its healing phase."

"So is my eye," Bradley said.

Max fell back onto the bed. His shirt folded up to reveal part of his stomach. He stretched his arms over his head on the blanket, causing his shirt to lift just slightly more, and he settled his back into the comfort of the mattress. Whether this almost seductive move was intentional or something Max did subconsciously, he didn't know. Bradley couldn't help but stare. He swallowed, his throat only becoming more dry. He grew hot as his eyes scaled Max's bare stomach.
"Do you think we're friends?" Max asked, tilting his head to the side. There was an idiotic grin on his face. He couldn't take anything seriously.

Bradley met his eyes, then looked away. "Of course not. I hate you. I thought we had a mutual understanding," he answered. He too couldn't take anything seriously. Max smiled, knowing Bradley's response meant yes.

Bradley had left to his classes for the day and Max was left alone in his room. Unfortunately, because Bradley was so boring, it wasn't worth Max's time to snoop. There were no pictures or letters anywhere that Max could "accidentally" take a peak at. He did however open the closet to find all of Bradley's sweaters neatly hung up, and his shoes arranged accordingly on the rug below. Max admired Bradley's tidiness. Probably because he himself was the exact opposite.

He expected Bobby and P.J would be at their classes at this time, so he found the courage to try to sneak back into his dorm for a change of clothes. He was admittedly beginning to smell like an armpit. Max made it just one foot out the door when Bobby rounded the corner, also heading for their dorm.
They both stopped in their tracks and looked at each other. Max was in his boxers, which was how he had slept, and he forgot to put his pants back on.