InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "LORD HAVE MERCY"

Max Jordan | Mr. Hyde (tooth_breaker) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-06-30 01:17:00

Entry tags:

dracula, mr. hyde

Who: Vlad and Max
What: "We need to talk"
Where: P3
When: June 20th, between 9:30 and 10 PM
Warnings: Existential crisis, sadness, and ~~probably~~ swears.

By the time Max left 302, his palms were decidedly sweaty and he kept licking his dry lips every several seconds. He was nervous, and not just because he had yet to come up with a solution to the "Brian is trying to figure out his fable" problem. Never before in his twenty years of existence had he told another person about what he was, and even now he wasn't sure if it was the right idea. Turning the key in the lock, he pocketed it and began to trot up the stairs. The alternative would be to not tell Vlad and try to keep this going on his own, but even he knew when to admit that something was too much.

He needed a bigger boat.

But he was out of options at this point. Jekyll and Hyde were gone, which meant that Max was alone once again without a liaison to grease the wheels. Jekyll had done a great job at keeping Brian complacent, but without that soothing voice, he'd start to obsess. Max knew that. Brian would become fixated on "Harry" and wouldn't stop until he had figured it out. Before, he had nothing to go on. He had a few awkward wake-ups and weird laundry habits. But now, there was somebody that he could use as a reference. He had a leg up on that ladder, and he would climb it. Brian wasn't an idiot, after all.

Max's footsteps thudded on the stairs as he practically raced to the top, cradling a bottle of whiskey in his left arm. This was going to suck, and he'd need a drink - or six - to get through it. Though he'd do Vlad the courtesy of not getting drunk before the big reveal.

Finally, he reached the penthouse floor, huffing and puffing as he stumbled over to P3. After taking a few moments to compose himself, he knocked sharply on the door. There was no turning back now.

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tooth_breaker
2010-06-30 07:34 pm UTC (link)

The question seemed to cause him physical pain. He cringed, dragging both hands down his face and balling up in his chair. Somewhere in his mind - or Brian's mind, he observed bitterly - he knew that he was being childish. But he had never admitted this to another person before. Nobody in the universe knew that Max Jordan, life of the party; Max Jordan, sorority slut banger; Max Jordan, murderer extraordinaire; didn't even exist. Not even Brian knew. It was the ultimate secret, something that only existed because one person knew. To the rest of the world, he was a dynamic psycho that happily flitted from party to party. Nobody else would wise up. Nobody else would know.

But Brian was already questioning. "Harry's" identity was the question du jour, and his internet history was filled with websites about "English Harry" or "English Henry." He was even thinking about going to that psychic woman upstairs. Though Max put no stock in such nonsense, he knew that Bellum bred a strange type of people. In the real world, psychics were bullshit. In Bellum, they might be able to tell Brian everything he wanted to know.

"Yes," he finally said, dropping his feet to the floor. His fingers were still dug into his hair, constantly touching and caressing his scalp and face. He listed to the side, leaning against the arm of the chair before sitting up again. Everything in him was moving; his entire body was in a constant state of flux. "I-I'm sorry, I've...never told anyone this before." He laughed, the sound forced and hollow. "There's a part of me, Vlad...that..." He bit on his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.

The bruise on his face had faded significantly, but it was still a ghost on his cheek, brushing butterfly kisses against his nose. He dropped his hands, heaving a dry wheeze, before looking at the other man. "So I guess...I'll say it this way." He looked almost close to tears as he took a huge breath. "While I was in France, I heard my fable. Story. Tale. Whatever. And." Pausing, he pressed his hands against his knees, pushing on the joints as he stared intently at Vlad, resolved to not break eye contact. "I'm Mr. Hyde."