Chapter Text
Bradley’s mother may have coddled him when he was younger. He was abit of a brat, and a sadistic one at that. As a child, originally known as Bailey, he was prone to melt downs. The nice lady who combed through his long blonde hair, would often get bitten and kicked at. She had the keep the scissors away from the small child, who kept insisting on a hair cut. The woman, Marie, struggled to hold “Bailey” in her arms, willing her away from the sharp blades.
In the end she failed. Marie ended up with a thick gash across her face, the red smearing out from her fingers and staining the white on her dress. Marie’s scream echoed down the chorridor, where the mother of the bratty child was admiring a family portrait on the wall. She made her way down the hall slowly, the scream seemed to cause her no real interest or concern. Her face remained void of emotion when she stepped in the bathroom to find her daughter chopping off layer after layer of hair and the wait staff curled in the corner. Sighing she leaned down to Marie, examining the cut and telling her to go to the infirmary and get it stitched up. If anyone was to ask, she fell and sliced is on the table corner.
“Baby.” Bailey paused, turning to look at her mother with a huff. “What happened?”
The girl infront of her resembled her so much. Sharp cheek bones and dark blue eyes, she was a replicated copy of her mother with more attitude.
“I don’t want long hair, mama. The kids at school pull it. I hate them.”
Baileys mother, Louise, hum before sitting on the floor. She pulls her daughter into a hug, looking at them both in the mirror and ignoring the way the bloodied scissors glint in her daughters hand.
“Bailey.”
“Bradley.” She correct, venom in her little
Voice.
“What’s wrong with Bailey? I worked really hard to find that name for you, my sweet girl.”
Bradley rolled her eyes but melted in her mother embrace. She was only nine years old, her mother was still her safe space.
“I want to be named after dad. I don’t feel like Bailey, momma. I don’t like it.”
Louise nods, letting out a soft sigh. She grabs the blades from her child’s hands and start fixing the cut, evening out hairs and shaping her face more.
“Very well. If that’s what you want.”
That’s how most things went for Bradley. He wanted something, he got it. He wanted to be Bradley, he was Bradley. His youth was spent terrorizing the wait staff, tripping them down the stairs or putting dead mice in their lunch boxes. Bradley would laugh everytime he heard their screams. The screams were his favourite part.
“The kid is out of control, Louise! You keep giving into her!” Bradley’s father yelled in the empty corridor, unaware of his son who was hiding under one of the many antique desks that lined the way too long hall.
“I’m not discussing this with you. He’s our son. Our job as his parents are to love and accept all of him, unconditionally.”
“She’s our daughter! You have to stop feeding into her delusions. She’s scaring the kids at school, the staff here, and even me! I can’t tuck her in at night, I can’t look her in the eyes. There’s something wrong about that kid, and we both know it.”
Ouch. Hearing his own father say those words, it stung alittle. He wasn’t that bad. Yeah he was a little different, but he was just being a boy. And that’s what his mother told the teachers when they called.
“Louise, he doesn’t have any friends. Doesn’t that concern you? He’s always alone. It’s not healthy!”
He didn’t need friends. Nobody understood him anyway. They didn’t get why he liked horror movies, or why he laughed whenever somebody fell and got hurt. They didn’t understand his fascination with blood or why he’d sit in the corner with a thumb tack and make himself bleed. Still, his father was obviously stressing his mother out over this. He could make a friend if it got the old man off her back.
When he went to school the next day he kept his backpack clutched to his chest. He wasn’t sure what other kids liked. He wasn’t sure how to talk to them yet, still awkward and closed off. He had practiced smiling in the mirror at home, it always looked off. When Bradley tried to approach a group they would all leave. He tried not to let it affect him, but by the third time it happened he couldn’t help the fat tears that slid down his face. He was failing his mother.
He sat on the edge of the woods, watching the other kids jump and run around on the recess field. Nobody talked to him. He focused on the red seeping through his fingers.
“What are you doin?”
He jumped at the voice, big blue eyes meeting chocolate brown.
“I uh…I just…” Bradley stumbled over his words, he wasn’t sure how to explain what he was doing to the gap toothed boy. “You ever get a bruise you can’t stop poking? It’s like that.” He’s not sure if his explanation is something a normal kid would have given.
“Ohh, yeah I get that!” He smiled brightly, lowering himself into the grass infront of Bradley. He grabbed the tack and pricked his own fingers, flinching when the red pooled at the tip. “Yeah, I guess that is the same feeling!”
Bradley was stunned. He watched as the other boy sucked the blood off his finger, stupid smile never faltering.
“Do you want to be friends with me?” Bradley’s face burned, he hadn’t realized he’d voiced it out loud.
“Yeah! Let’s have a sleep over! Do you want to come over to my house or me come to yours?”
Bradley thought it over. He really wanted to show off his new friend to his parents. A way of
Saying “fuck you old man, I can make friends see? I’m not fucking weird.” But also “see momma? Now daddy will leave you alone.”
“I want you to come over to mine. My house is probably better than yours. We’ll have more fun at my house.”
The black haired boy nodded, reaching out his hand for Bradley to shake.
“Yeah okay! I’m Max, by the way!”
Bradley tried to hide his excitement as he shook Max’s hand.
“I’m Bradley. Do you like scary movies, Max?”
Max shook his head, shifting uncomfortably.
“I’m not really allowed to watch them. My dad says I’ll have nightmares.”
When Max comes over the next day Bradley has the night perfectly planned. He introduces Max to his parents. His mother smiles and holds Max’s face, telling him he’s a beautiful boy and she’s so happy to meet him. Bradley’s father just stares, awe struck. When Bradley pulls Max away by his hand, leading him to his room, he tries not to listen to his parents whispered bickering.
“I know you said you’re not allowed to watch scary movies, but really I think you can handle it. They’re really fun, and we have a bunch of snacks too.” Bradley proudly shows off the area he has set up for them, blankets and pillows piled in a next on the floor with a variety of sodas and junk food. Max’s eyes are huge as he eyes everything.
“Uh…o..okay yeah. Im sure I can handle it. What are we watching first?”
“A classic. I know what you did last summer, then Friday the 13th, and nightmare on elm street. We’re starting with the more popular stuff tonight.”
Max nods, settling into the makeshift nest. Bradley sits next to him, their knees knocking together as Bradley hits play.
“You’re gonna love this.”
Max did not love it. He cried. Bradley panicked and covered his mouth and nose to try and make him stop.
“Shhh stop! Stop crying!” He yelled in a whisper “you’re gonna get us introuble! You’re being such a baby!” Max’s struggling didn’t stop, he let out choked sobs under Bradley’s hand. He eventually was able to fight the brunette off himself and curled up into himself.
This wasn’t part of the plan. What was he supposed to do with some snot nosed kid crying in his room? If his father saw he’d be proving him right.
“Max, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d get this scared, I thought you’d find them funny.”
“Wh…who wou..ld find thiii…a fun…nyyyy” Max’s voice shook just as much as his body.
“Well okay look.” Bradley shifted from his spot and stood infront of the tv. The current slasher on screen was Freddy, the movie that pushed Max over the edge. “Look at his sweater, it’s so ugly! That’s the real terror, dying in that thing. Imagine how itchy he must be? And he can’t even scratch himself without cutting himself! I’d terrorize dumb teenagers too.”
It wasn’t much, but it earned a quiet giggle from the other.
“Y…yeah! I guess you’re right. He’s the real victim, huh?”
Bradley smiles at Max, quickly finding his spot next to him and pressing play again.
“He put their faces on a pizza? Really?”
Max is now covering his own mouth to stop the fit of laughter coming out. The rest of the night continues like that, the two making fun of either the killer or the victims. And when Max gets too scared he grabs Bradley’s hand, and Bradley lets him.
It has been twelve years since that day in Bradley’s room. Max and Bradley have been best friends, Max even dragging Bradley into
His friend group. Bradley quickly went from an awkward lonely kid, to a popular, play boy. He knew how to mask better now, only really letting his true self shine through for Max. They still have horror movie binges in Bradley’s room, surrounded by junk food and sugary drinks.
“Hey ass face, come on we’re gonna be late.” Max shoves Bradley off his bed, earning a glare from the other.
“You dick! I should slice you up for that!”
“Nah man, horror movie rules. My tits aren’t
Big enough to be your first kill, try again later.”
Bradley rolls his eyes but continues getting dressed anyway. Bradley follows Max everywhere, even to the crappy community college he was way too good for. He’d never let Max know that though.
“Think of it as a loophole, Fags die for free.”
“Whatever dude. You couldn’t kill me if you wanted to, not with those little e-boy noodle arms.”
Bradley scoffs, his arms aren’t that small. He’s actually quiet toned, he just doesn’t carry as much muscle as Max does.
“Shut up. We’re doing movie night at yours tonight. My parents are being fucking weird. I think they’re fighting more than usual.”
This wasn’t something out of the ordinary. When things got to be too much at the Uppercrust residence, the boys camped out in Max’s shitty garage. It wasn’t a bad set up, his dad let him stay for free as long as he continued his education, and Bradley had become like a second son to the older Goof. Wherever Max was, Bradley was never too far behind, so Goofy had become very used to the brunette being around his house.
“Fine but I’m tired of watching this new horror shit. We’re watching when a stranger calls.”
Bradley doesn’t argue. It’s hard to imagine that sobbing little kid all those years ago turned into this, a horror loving fanatic who constantly criticizes the new works being put out. That’s fine though, Bradley has a certain appreciation for the classics anyway.
“Fine by me, Maxie. Just try not to jump into my lap every time the phone rings.”
Max groans, rolling his eyes. Even after all these years he still gets jumpy and for some god forsaken reason, jumps to Bradley for comfort. It’s a trained reaction in his body, and one that Bradley never lets him live down.