A part of Max wanted to run. He had never felt this vulnerable in his twenty years of existence. His gaze was glued to Vlad, as if expecting something terrible. He had, essentially, revealed his entire existence to the man. It was a raw, naked feeling, like he had been sliced down the middle so that the world could view his tender organs. Subconsciously, he crossed his arms over his stomach, hunching forward slightly as he shifted and fidgeted in his seat.
At Vlad's questions, he nodded. "Yeah. When he goes to sleep, I come out. So right now, he's...sleeping, really." Max didn't understand how it worked. "And then when I sleep, he wakes up. But I think there's sometimes a few hours where we're both out...I'm not sure." Thinking about the specifics of this arrangement was a nice little vacation from the reality of the situation, though he knew it was a pathetic grasp at distance.
"I don't expect you to get it," he said weakly, looking down at his shoes with a crestfallen look on his face. "That...that wouldn't be fair of me." Even in his selfish fits, Max was capable of understanding that this wasn't Vlad's problem. Vlad had his own problems, obviously. But it felt almost good in a sick way to confide in somebody about this. If just one person knew about him, knew what had happened and knew that he existed, then maybe when he eventually disappeared, he'd live on in memory.
At his final questions, Max scrunched up his face. "I'm like...I'm like crutches, after you break your leg. Right now, he needs me to function. He can lean on me, even if he doesn't know it. Any urges he has, any anger, I take that and help him control it. The memories, them too. But someday..." He faltered, pressing both fingers to his lips for a moment as if he could stop the words from coming out. "If he finds out...and he can handle all of this...then he won't need me anymore." The room seemed to be closing in as he scrunched down, arms crossed on his lap. "And when you don't need crutches anymore...you get rid of them."