Chapter Text
After today, things will be different. Max hopes. She's gonna finally see him. Max hopes. The plan is outrageous, PJ never tires of telling him that, but this is the only way Roxanne is gonna notice him. Being someone else who isn't his uncool self will make her like him. Max really, really, really hopes.
Dressing as Powerline, the coolest man in the entire planet, will guarantee his ticket to the cool club. They won't laugh at him anymore, they won't steal his lunch anymore, they won't snap jock straps at him anymore, they won't punch him in the arm anymore, they will actually, factually begin to respect him. Max keeps on hoping.
"I wish that this was the day after today," he whispers to himself, then moves to get down the bleachers, but he suddenly trips and falls down, his head hitting the wooden railing, his body tumbling hard down the steep steps. He lands on the ground, feeling the edges of his vision darken, the sound around him becoming distant and muffled. The last thing he hears before he blacks out is everybody laughing at him. Again.
….
….
Darkness momentarily clears. His head hurts a lot. Like his dad drilling wood on the broken wall where their living room opens to their front yard very early in the morning. He welcomes the sweet, numbing darkness with open arms.
…..
….
Darkness clears again and someone calls out his name. Frantically. Too loud for his poor head. Like PJ playing the drums at full volume everywhere inside his skull. Damn it, Peej, Max thinks groggily, we've talked about this. There is no way he's ever going to be a drummer, just like there's no way Max is ever going to be a lead guitarist. They possess no talent.
"Max! Max! Do you hear me, buddy?"
He forces his eyelids to peel apart. The fog of sweet oblivion recedes gradually to reveal someone who vaguely looks like his only friend in the world. PJ looks off somehow. Like maybe this is a dream? Once, he dreamt about his dad without ears and Max having red hair. He is waking up in a dream. It is a dream all right, because PJ is wearing a heavy purple turtleneck sweater with a large coat at the start of summer, and he's wearing a beret on his head.
"Maximus, snap out of it, man!"
There is another guy next to Dream PJ. He is also wearing a humongous jacket. He kind of looks like the tech guy who's going to help make Max un-Max in front of Roxanne today. Bobby. He looks extremely off without that giant mohawk. Max can be quite creative in his dreams. Too bad once you wake up you forget everything in dreamland.
A sharp sting across the cheek.
"Ouch!" Max yelps, clutching his face.
"Bobby!" PJ squawks, chiding the bald boy.
"What? Slap-tude guarantees Wake-atude," Bobby defends. "It works in movies, man."
Max rubs his head, pain throbbing endlessly. "What happened?" he asks, his vision taking in the weird looking bedroom he's in.
PJ and Bobby look at each other awkwardly.
It is then that Max realizes he's naked under the covers. Naked, naked. Like without his briefs naked.
He clutches the covers around him, wide eyes scanning the room again. It's a room with two beds and rapper posters plastering the walls, plus a ton of books piled on a desk next to a laptop. A laptop? How expensively fancy! Could it be PJ's? His dad owned cable, a boat, and an RV. Last Max knew, his friend used to have a desktop in his room since forever. Of course, his dad is going to get him a laptop. Pete likes to lavish his family in over-the-top gadgets.
"Thank God, you're awake," a strange man's voice interrupts Max's resentful inner monologue about the unfairness of not having enough money for the finest gear most teens own minus penniless him.
Okay, so this man did get the memo that they are in summer and not the North Pole. He is wearing nothing but boxers and a white tank top. Appropriate if Max actually knows who he is, because right now this is verging on creepy. He sits next to him on the bed. Creepier? One hand holds Max's while the man's other hand actually and tenderly and creepily cups Max's cheek. "How are you feeling, babe?" Said in the most intimate voice he's ever heard from a man or a woman. Not even his dad talked in this affectionate tone.
Max's response is out-of-sockets wide eyes and motionless petrified face. To say he's flabbergasted is an understatement.
"Does your head hurt?" the man says worriedly, leaning close to examine Max's throbbing head.
Flinching away, Max whimpers to his off-looking only friend in the world, "Peej…"
"Relax, man," PJ reassures, like nothing weird is going on, like there's no strange man in his underwear touching Max's face and holding his hand. "That's Alex."
Who?
"Alex?" Max echoes, turning his gaze to the man who is now kissing his temple. No! No! Uh-uh! He jumps to his feet on the bed. As PJ and Bobby look away, he realizes he's stark naked. Max rushes to bring the covers up to cover himself.
"Someone tell me what's going on here, now!!!" Max demands, clutching the covers like a highly panicked toga. He fixes the bewildered faces with what he hopes is a stern glare and not a panicked deer-caught-in-bed-naked-with-touchy-feely-strange-older-man look.
Alex glances at PJ and Bobby awkwardly. "I think you'd prefer if I answer this without your friends around."
"Friends? I have friends? Plural?"
"You have two friends, bud," Bobby answers. "Me and the Peejster."
"You're my friend? Since when?" Max asks, looking at Bobby. The Cheddar Whizzie guy? Really?
Bobby's mouth drops. His hand slaps his chest. "Insulted is not even close to the tragic bummer-age in my cheese loving heart."
"PJ, what's going on here? Please don't tell me the school day is over," Max pleads with his friend, the one person he's sure is his friend. Did he not perform Stand Out in front of Roxanne? Did he blow his last chance of making her notice he exists in this bleak universe?
A haunted silence follows.
PJ narrows his eyes at him. "Max… what year is this?"
"What do you mean, what year is this?" Max exclaims. "This is the year I finally get to show her I'm more than a Goof!"
"Her?" Alex asks, confused and hurt at the same time.
"What year is it?" PJ demands again. He never knew PJ is too obsessed with the calendar.
"'95," he answers, "June 9th." He memorized this date before it arrived in case it becomes the anniversary of Roxanne finally discovering he's alive.
"Holy Marty McFly," Bobby gasps.
PJ shares a concerned look with Alex, before he looks at Max, saying carefully as if talking to a skittish animal. "Max, it's 2000."
Max stares at him. Silence hangs in the air, so thick he can spread it on toast. Is this a prank? Is he on Totally Hidden Video? Where are the cameras? Show him the wires! Is this why PJ looks off? He's actually older? And Bobby shaved off the mohawk and now he's his friend? And Alex… well, he's never met Alex before this time-hopping disaster.
"You mean… we're in the Millennium?" Max asks, sliding down until he's sitting on the bed, still clutching the covers.
"That was a fun party, dude. You got so wasted you wore your shirt like a hat," Bobby says, grinning.
"Me? But… but I don't drink," Max sputters, pulling the covers up to hide his terrified face.
"You sure did at that party," Bobby says, and Max feels like his brain is melting.
"Bobby, don't freak him out," PJ says. He looks at Max with a gentle expression. "Max, we're in college now. We drink now. I mean, not legally, but we have nice guys like Alex here who can get us booze."
Bobby pats Alex on the back. "Pays to have one of us dating a senior on campus."
Max prefers to ignore the part about dating a senior and focus on the other mind-boggling info. "College?"
"Yes, man," PJ says gently, "you're an eighteen-year-old, college-attending adult."
"No, no, this can't be right." Max shakes his head hard. "I'm fourteen and nine months. I'll be turning fifteen this upcoming September. There is no way I'm eighteen."
"Oh, I really hope you're eighteen," Alex finally speaks, adjusting his tank top with a nervous tug. "I do not sleep with minors."
"Sleep with?" Max mumbles into the fusty fabric of the covers. "SLEEEP WITH?!!!" He shoots up, nearly sending the covers flying. No, no, no, no, this can't be true! He didn't even kiss a girl in his life, and now he's sleeping with senior men in college?!!!
PJ jumps onto the bed, holding the covers to cover him up again. "Max, calm down, you're venturing into panic attack mode, dude."
Glad PJ is covering him up, Max blinks at the new bombshell fact that he's looking down at PJ, literally looking down. He glances down. Nope, PJ isn't standing on his knees. He's actually standing up straight, just like Max. "Peej…" he breathes out, "I'm taller than you."
"Yep, buddy, your growth spurt kicked in at sixteen."
Max, strangely enough, finds himself grinning. "Finally. The only good thing my dad can pass down to me finally kicked in."
PJ winces. "Dude, that's your dad."
Glancing at the room, Max's gaze falls on the red t-shirt and baggy jeans folded on a chair, with a brown jacket on top. "Are these my clothes?" he asks.
Alex smiles warmly. "Yeah, I went ahead and folded those for you. When you passed out, I had time to call your friends and do a quick cleanup before they showed up."
Max eyes him suspiciously, his frightened gaze moving to the other bed. "Are we roommates?"
"No, Max, this is the senior dorms," PJ says, still holding the covers to shield his nakedness from view. "We three live in the freshman dorms."
"Three?" Max says, glancing at Bobby.
Bobby's hands flying to his chest in a renewed gesture of offense. "That's it, man, I'm demanding respect with a Gouda-filled apology."
"Wait…" Max says, squeezing his eyes shut. "If I don't live here, then why…" He trails off, the crucial words previously spoken crashing back into his mind: "sleep with," "date a senior," "How are you feeling, babe?" And now he is literally going into a full-blown panic attack.
"You were here having hot monkey sex with this stallion who rocked your world with more than a dozen head smack-age against the headboard until it sent you to Zzz-land," Bobby sums it up for him with a revenge smirk.
Max's breath hitches and comes out in rusty tea kettle sounds, while his saucer-wide eyes desperately dart around the faces around him, willing someone to tell him that he's still in Zzz-land. He's still the fourteen-year-old loser about to hijack his school assembly to impress the love of his existence.
He feels PJ wrap him with the covers and pull him close. "Relax, Max, relax. Some Stargate puddle-jumping action has happened, and we need to figure out how to fix it."
"Puddle-jumping?" Max repeats, confused, his body still shaking with chilly feelings not related to being cold at all.
"That's a Stargate reference," Alex says, going onto the bed, wanting to give him a hug as well, but Max inches further from him and buries himself in PJ's embrace.
Alex's gray eyes dim with hurt. Max can't find it in himself to feel guilty. He does not know this man, he does not know this place, and he sure as hell does not know what Stargate is!
"Maybe you'd feel better if you put your clothes on," PJ says, doing his best to keep his dangling bits modestly tucked away.
Max gave a shaky nod and let Shorter-PJ help him down the bed and to a nearby door which turns out to be a bathroom. He stands awkwardly inside until Alex comes in and hands him his clothes. He looks like a kicked puppy, with sad puppy dog eyes, dashing blonde hair, and muscular upper arms…
Dashing? Muscular?
Max pushes Hottie McStud out and slams the bathroom door shut on his face.
He groans. It's not his fault. They got into his head with the whole he's sleeping with college dudes piece of whack!
He drops the covers and hastily begins putting on his clothes, catching his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He inches closer, staring intently at his face. He definitely looks older. He glances down. Whoa! The floor is way too far away. He looks up again. He's older, taller, and dare he say, better looking than he used to be moments ago before he woke up naked in bed with a blonde hottie male guy.
He hangs his head back, letting out a second groan. He's gay, then. That's why he kept striking out with girls. Not that he actually crushed on any girl before Roxanne, but he'd liked her all ninth grade year, and she never spared him a glance. Being gay is probably why she never gave him the time. She knows he's a lost cause with the ladies.
Whispers drift from outside, and Max glares at the closed door. They're talking about him behind his adult-sized back. He steps over the rumpled covers on the bathroom floor and presses his ear to the door. There are more whispers, but they sound like a broken radio transmission and make no coherent sense. With a frustrated sigh, he slams the door open and glowers at the three men outside. He folds his arms over his chest. "Time for answers," he says, narrowing his eyes at each face.
~*~*~*~*~
"So, I actually did get together with Roxanne, but we broke up after high school 'cause she got accepted at Harvard and I snagged a sports scholarship here. I'm a big deal skateboarder who's popular with the ladies…"
"And the fellas," Alex cuts in smoothly.
"Right," Max says uncomfortably. "And we managed to hit the semi-finals of the College X-Games, but because I goofed up during the qualifying rounds - which, shocker - we're starting in last place. I got bummed, hit the bar, and hooked up with Alex, and now we're together... uh, how many dates have we been on so far?"
"Two," Alex says dreamily.
Max feels like he's gonna pass out again.
"You feel more chilled out now?" PJ asks, looking concerned.
Max scratches the back of his neck. "Not exactly, but I'm less likely to freak the heck out."
Alex approaches him and lays a hand on his arm, saying warmly, "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get your memory back."
Max eyes the hand on his arm like it's a burning coal.
"Dude, you must've hit his head against the headboard five times, each one knocking a year out of his brain," Bobby comments with a laugh, popping cheese puffs into his mouth from a snack bag he found in Alex's room.
Feeling that man-shaped hand scorching his arm, Max jumps to his feet. "I need some fresh air." He quickly grabs his brown jacket and throws it on while walking to the door.
"Max, are you sure it's smart to go out on your own?" PJ calls after him, sounding worried.
"Yeah, yeah, nothing like the sun to clear the cobwebs out of my head," Max pulls an excuse out of his ass.
"There's no sun outside. Good old Jan has been nothing but clouds," Bobby points out.
"Want me to come with, babe?" Alex says.
Max feels the crawl of a thousand ants on his skin at the word 'babe' and attempts his best freaked-out polite smile as he turns to Alex. "No, thanks. I need some solo time to decompress." He quickly bolts out and slams the door.
~*~*~*~*~
A chilly January morning with chilly winds as Max's creeped-out stares dart between the grown-up students walking around in jackets and the enormous collection of books. They look normal. None of the posse-type cliques of high schoolers, nor ripped-off jeans, nor midriff-showing girls. He doesn't see any bullies in backward caps and leather jackets, and no massive jocks threatening to stuff him in a locker. Everyone looks more calm, mature, really grown up.
Okay, so he's eighteen now. A full-fledged grown up. He's a college man. Who woulda thunk? And he's cool now. He's popular. Well, he's yet to see evidence of that. None of the students walking by seem to recognize him or stare at him in awe. Maybe it's because he messed up those qualifying rounds. Doomed to be a goof, through and through.
Now the other dilemma: he's gay. No, bisexual. He likes girls and boys. That's a load of options! The girl part he's familiar with since seventh grade, with a hot Kelly Kapowski on the cover of Teen Beat, pushed him right into puberty. But the guy thing… that's way too new… to wake up naked in another man's room… that's too much for a dweeb virgin… nope, not a virgin anymore. And apparently he takes it up the ass. Oh, God!
Still, it came out of nowhere. He never really thought of guys since his sexual awakening at the age of twelve. Not really. No. Well, maybe? He did think Chad was hot. With that Joey Lawrence hair and those massive muscles. He also had a TV crush on Jason Priestley. Does that mean he is really gay? Sorry, bisexual?
But really, those guys he crushed on in high school didn't really make him head-over-heels into them. Not like Roxanne. Ah, Roxanne! Why did she leave him for Harvard? If only he was rich and smart, he could have gotten into Harvard, and they could have been together now. But alas, he's a brainless and penniless guy who is lucky enough to be good at skateboarding to land a scholarship and save his poor dad the expense of working dead-end jobs to save for his never-existent college fund.
Off track, Max, get back to the bisexual dilemma. Okay, so he established that guys didn't really do it for him other than noticing they were hot. Like Alex. He's clearly good looking, but every time he touched him, Max wanted to scrub his arm raw with steel wool.
Maybe it's Alex's personality that he liked? If Alex was there for him during his drunken "woe is me" because of the college X-Games flop, maybe Max was too polite to dump him the next day, so he thought of stringing him along instead of telling him to his face, "Sorry, pal, not into dudes."
He looks around at the men walking past him. None of them is doing a thing for him either. That settles it. He's not into guys. He's as straight as an arrow. He was never in a closet, and he doesn't have to be now.
Something catches Max's eye, and for the first time since he woke up into this nightmare, it puts a genuine smile on his face. A skate park.
He quickens his steps into it and watches a group of guys skateboarding skillfully on a big ramp. Much bigger and stronger than the one he has in his backyard back home. A group of students with hot cups of cocoa stand to watch in awe. Max's stomach rumbles. He hasn't eaten a thing all day, the lunch his dad made him was snatched by a bully, which was ages ago, because now Max is four years into the future. He hasn't eaten a thing in five years.
"Gammas!" a confident voice calls out.
The guys skateboarding quickly clear off the ramp, and Max watches a guy in a sweater vest and a black and red helmet climb up the half-pipe.
He notices some girls squeal in adoration. He looks up at the guy. He's got an air of confidence about him as he stands at the top of the ramp. He places his skateboard down and starts shredding. He drops in with a smooth frontside vert, catching insane air off the lip of the ramp before he starts carving a clean line. He pulls a quick Ollie off a small block, landing perfectly with a satisfying slap, then finishes his run with a wicked kickflip before rolling to a stop smooth as butter.
The students around him cheer and clap, and Max can only stare.
He's so cool.
The guy climbs down the half-pipe and is surrounded by the other skateboarders, showering him with praise. His gaze suddenly lands on Max, and he smirks. "Enjoying the show, freshman?"
Max looks behind him; no one is there. He looks back at the guy, and then points at himself. "Me?"
The guy scoffs and starts walking towards him. Max feels himself getting sweaty and nervous as the guy approaches. Gaze caught in enthralling blue eyes, Max can't help his hitching breath.
"Cat got your tongue, freshman?" the guy asks in the smoothest voice Max never thought a man could possess.
"I, um, uh…" he can't help clutching his arm nervously and giggling until a loud, spine-chilling "ah-yuck" erupts from his mouth.
He smacks his hands over his mouth, his wide eyes staring at the handsome man with the cutest amused smirk. This is the worst thing that can ever happen to him.
"Maxie!!!"
His heart drops to his wriggling legs. Did he just hear his dad? Calling his name? Here in college?
His dad horrifyingly does appear in front of him. Max's eyes are about to go wider out of his head with terror.
The cool skateboarder with the clearest blue eyes raises a disapproving thick eyebrow at his dad. "You're late, brother Goofy."
"What?" Max gasps out, lowering his hands.
"Sorry, Mr. Uppercrust, I was busy talking the professor into giving me a make-up mid-term after I blew the first one," his dad apologizes, before turning sad eyes to Max. "I owe ya an apology, son. I surely didn't mean to mess up your good time at college. I promise I'll keep my nose out of your business and just focus on my own life like you said?"
"Professor? Mid-term?" Max mutters, really, really dreading the answer to the next question. "Dad, are you a student here?"
"Why, yes, son! Gonna get me a college degree so I can get a job," his dad explains.
Mr. Uppercrust grabs his dad's arm and gives Max a dismissive look. "Now, little Goof, why don't you go play somewhere else? The Gammas are working on winning their sixth College X-Games."
"Gammas? Dad, are you in a fraternity?"
"Ah-yuck, yeah, son, you know that already," his dad says with a frown. "Bradley here gave me a spot when he saw my skill set in skateboarding."
"You?" Max exclaims.
Bradley smirks at him. "Someone seems to regret turning down the Gammas when he had a chance."
Max turned down joining a fraternity? With the coolest skateboarder he's ever seen? What was he, NUTS?
He watches Bradley and his dad move with the other skateboarders, all wearing the same-colored helmets and begin to practice while Max stares, wide-eyed and mystified.