Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Mmh,” yawned a sleepy Max, “Gotta get ready…” he mumbled.

Max was kinda excited for this day, which was really unusual for him. He usually was a bit chipper when waking up as he didn't think a lot in the mornings about his life, but he never really looked forwards to many things, especially when he was currently living with the most annoying ghost in the world, if not entire galaxy.

The bald man got out of bed and tried for a couple seconds to find his slippers with his feet before sighing and just stepping onto the cold floor, heading for his wardrobe. He put on some shorts and a white T-shirt quickly just so that he wouldn't be wandering into the kitchen almost naked to get some breakfast.

“I'll put on something fancier, later.” He thought absentmindedly to himself.

He stumbled a little bit while going into the kitchen, his mind starting to turn on to open the fridge and grab a jar of strawberry jam. He set the jam upon the counter and grabbed the bag of bread to untie it and grab a slice of bread.

Just as he was about to plug in the toaster he heard a cartoon sound effect and soon then did his personal incarnate of hell appeared.

“Heyya, creep!” Goofball sneared as he watched Max try to stifle an annoyed sigh and continue to plug in the toaster. “Ya know, unplugging that toaster isn't going to save you much money when you keep spending it on those nerdy games of yours, right?”

“Yeah, I know, but I'm trying to have more control over my spending habits!” Max spat. “At least I'm trying to do something good with my life, unlike you!”

He really didn't want to deal with this nuisance right before his important meeting. The meeting really could make all of his hard work worth it and he didn't want to be agitated before it.

“Technically afterlife for me.” Goofball corrected.

“Ok, afterlife; but still I'm trying to get better with money and unplugging the toaster helps me save a couple of dollars that could be used for food or something else that I might need.” Max said with less venom in his spit than before.

“Alright, creep, just make me something to eat, too.” Goofball said, “I’ll get out of your ‘hair’ for now.” He exaggerated the word hair for a bit and then after finishing speaking disappeared.

Max disregarded the way he elongated the word ‘hair’ and continued on, untying the bag and grabbing a slice of bread to put in the toaster.

He grabbed another slice and put it in the toaster alongside his piece. Soon the now toasted pieces of bread popped up and he took the two pieces of toast and put them on a plate.

He opened the jar of strawberry jam with a slight grunt and then grabbed a butter knife to spread the jam upon his piece of toast. Once he jammed up the toast he ate it in four bites.

Damn, he must have been real hungry.

He put the plate with the other piece of toast on the table for Goofball to take if he wanted to later and put the butter knife in the sink. Then he went back to his room now fully awake and ready to actually change his clothes.

He went into his wardrobe and put on some white socks along with his lucky pair of shoes that he got from his mom. He loved these pair of shoes, they were a gift he got for his birthday three years ago and he wore them to every event he deemed important to him.

He then had to take off the shoes to take off his shorts and put on his jeans, he soon realized with a huff, so he took off his shoes and shorts to be able to put on his dark blue jeans. He looked himself in the mirror while putting on an older suit that he hadn't worn in a while.

“Hmm…” he thought.

The suit was a very dark shade of blue, so dark that it could be confused with the color black. It matched with the dark blue jeans and black shoes quite well, but it was tight on him.

The suit was visibly suffocating his stomach and even though it didn't hurt him much, he wanted it to be a bit less tighter, so he unbuttoned three of the top buttons, which made his white shirt visible and made the suit much more breathable. The little bit of white that was visible because of the unbuttoning of the suit also complimented the look, giving it some much needed contrast.

“I think this outfit looks great on you!” said the cartoon ghost.

Max visibly jumped from hearing Goofball, not hearing the cartoon sound effect that got made when the ghost popped in because of his enthrallment in how he looks.

“Why are you in here!?” Max yelled.

“Just wanted to see what you were up to, creep.” Goofball replied.

“I don't even know how you could be calling me ‘creep’ right now when you are the one who teleported into my wardrobe while I was changing!” Max said while trying to get Goofball out of his wardrobe.

“Hey, chillax creep. Also next time when you make me toast could you at least add some butter?” Goofball added on with a smug smile on his face.

“GET OUT!” Max screamed as he tried to push Goofball out, only to fall into the floor as Goofball simply teleported behind him.

“Sheesh, you're acting like I tried to grope you or something. Think that toast of yours might've had something in it, with all that yelling you're doing.” Goofball loudly mumbled sarcastically.

Max got off of the floor and dusted himself off while readjusting his suit, staring daggers into Goofball. He really, really hates that troublesome ghost.

“Well maybe you shouldn't come into my room unannounced and while I'm changing!” Max said, seething at the sight of Goofball.

“Ugh, you're no fun. Well, I'll scadaddle, I guess.” Goofball said, disappointment evident in his voice.

Goofball then disappeared with a cartoon effect, leaving an angry Max alone in his wardrobe.

Chapter Text

Max took one last look at himself and left his room to go to the meeting. He looked for his phone and binder that had pictures he wanted to show along with some main talking points to us during the meeting, but not without three very deep breaths to calm him down and steady himself.

He opened the door and took a step outside, turning on his Google Maps to tell him where he'd be walking to.

The trip to the large office building wasn't very long so he showed up a couple minutes early before his presentation. He opened his binder and flipped through the pages quickly to give himself a small reminder of what he was supposed to say and do during the meeting.

He was very worried about how the executives of Disney would react to his idea for a show. He had been doing this show online so he knew that there was an audience for his content, but he didn't know if it was quite big enough to provide the executives with hope for his show.

He liked, no he loved “Brain Dump” and its community, which made him want it to succeed. He had been creating content for his show for years and he needed this meeting to go well, if not just for him, but also his fans that have been supporting his dream since the beginning.

His anxiety was through the roof right now, he had multiple different ways that the meeting could go horribly wrong playing in his head as he was thinking of all the ways that he might mess up.

Maybe he would accidentally open up something inappropriate, maybe he would talk too fast for the executives to hear, or maybe they were just letting him give his presentation as a way to entertain themselves and weren't planning on hearing him out in the first place.

His heart and head were beating fast, he needed to calm down.

He checked the time and saw that because of his panicking, he had one more minute to pass before the meeting started, so he went to the small cooler and drank some water. He dipped his fingers into the cup of water that he had drank and moistened his hands with the residue left in the cup.

Slowly he moved the wet hand on his face, ahh, that was what he needed. He felt a bit better to go into the meeting.

Speaking of the meeting, he realized that it was now time to go give his presentation, so he dashed down to the room that the meeting was going to be held in as quickly as he could.

He got to the door of his meeting room and hesitated, what if this was just a waste of time? What if they really were just looking for someone to laugh at?

He shook off those thoughts just as quickly as they came though, he was not going to miss his chance when it was right in front of him!

He opened the door to find… nobody? Where were the executives?

“Well, maybe they're running late. I guess.” Max thought.

He decided to start setting up his presentation now instead of in front of the executives to be ready for when they came. A paper with different points on the board here and a drawing of Burnbot there…

After about five minutes he figured he was done with setting up his soon-to-be presentation and… the executives we're still not here. Hmm.

What if they really were just pulling a messed up prank? They knew how esteemed they were, right? Why would they be running this late?

Maybe, just maybe, Goofball was right when he made fun of his dreams. Why did he even think that his dreams would lead to anywhere but a dead end? He was so… useless.

So, so useless. He couldn't do anything right, hell, he couldn't even add the damn butter to Goofball’s toast this morning.

The thought of Goofball getting mad over a piece of toast made him chuckle, stopping the negative thoughts for until he undoubtedly messed up according to his head again.

Then, another random thought stopped him for a moment.

Why was he thinking about Goofball so much?

He suddenly clammed up at the thought, surprised by himself. Why was he thinking about Goofball so much? It's not like Goof would ever congratulate him over anything or support his endeavors.

Goofball always made his life horrible, terrible, even. So why was he even thinking of that clown, no, circus, right now?

Wait, did he just call Goof, um, Goofball, Goof?

Eugh.

He was probably thinking about Goofball right now because he was in a negative headspace right now. Yeah, that makes sense. He was being negative right now so of course his thoughts would be invaded by that ghost. After all, Goof, he means Goofball, is also associated with negative thoughts, so he would fit right in with his feelings of self doubt.

Of course, he ignored how his muscles would relax a bit when the name ‘Goofball’ popped into his head, though. He didn't want to dwell on that for any amount of time, at least not for now. That would cause some truly troubling thoughts to his mind.

He was popped out of his bubble of thoughts and jumped an inch from being startled when he heard the door creak open. Well, he guessed they weren't pranking him.

Score.

Ew, why had he thought that, too. That was cringe.

He went towards the board in front of the room while the executives stepped into the room, crowding the table as they decided amongst themselves where they were going to sit.

“Sorry for our tardiness, we usually aren't late, ever.” The executive sitting in the front of the table said while smirking and looking at the rest of the people who were sitting at the table.

Max gulped, he really had to try his best. He scanned the room of its inhabitants and mentally sighed, steading himself for his now starting presentation.

“So, why don't you show us your idea?” Chirped an executive that sat at the back of the table.

Chapter Text

He froze for just a second, a second not even noticeable to the executives, or so he thinks, but that second felt like an hour… or two.

Just after that second he started moving his hands to present the paper with the different points on the board while talking.

“So,” he said with as much he could muster, anxiety ridden as he was, “these are the main points that I thought were most important to bring up to you *ahem* lovely (important) people.” He paused for a couple seconds before moving on and bringing up the first point on the paper.

“S-so this is point number one,” he inwardly cursed at himself for stuttering, “and it brings up the fact that I have been animating for a plethora of years on end.”

An executive near the left side of the table disrupts him and asks, “Why did you start animating? We would love someone who has passion and creativity to be working with us, rather than someone who doesn't care about what they output for their viewers.”

“Oh, um, I started animating because of the other people I saw animating on the internet when I was younger. I really wanted to make my characters and stories after seeing others do so.” He stopped for a second before saying, “I do have a ton of passion for animation, it's one of my favorite hobbies after all. It's also how I make a living, so I'd also hope I'd at least like it a little bit, heh.”

He hoped that the executives would like or at the very least somewhat appreciate his joke, but it seemed like nobody was interested in his attempt at humor, so he just moved on back to what he was saying before he got questioned.

“So, uh, anyways, back to point number one!” He said as the executive that gave him the question gave a small scoff as the word ‘anyways’ was uttered.

“Uh oh, maybe the executive thought that I was being rude.” thought Max.

“Uhm, I have b-been animating for most of my career online and have an extensive portfolio of all of my works.” He tried to emphasize ‘extensive,’ but messed up, “Many people, who could be potential customers to this show, have also seen these works, which moves us onto point number two.”

He moved on to point number two, which was about all of his viewers.

“I have many people who watch my show on the internet and seem to like it. I have a YouTube channel with these videos about my show that has many subscribers and views.” he said, “I also have people paying me online to have more episodes of my show come out and to get tips and tricks about drawing and animation from me.”

An executive at the right side of the table raised his hand and started speaking when Max gave him the ‘ok’ to talk.

“So, you say you have many viewers, correct?” He asked Max, Max answering with a nod of his head.

“Well, how spread out are you on the internet? Do you only operate on YouTube or do you also have other areas where you output your works?” the executive asked.

“Oh, um, yeah, I'm spread out on the internet!” He did not mean to put that much enthusiasm into his response, so he tried again, “Well, I have many different places that I post my works and share myself on besides YouTube, such as Tumblr and Newgrounds.”

“Splendid! This is some truly wonderful news. If your show is accepted we won't have to worry as much about possible viewership.” the executive boomed, grabbing his phone from his pocket and typing up Max’s show, ‘Brain Dump,' under the table.

“Alright, does anybody else have any more questions?” Max asked, a bead of sweat appearing on his forehead.

Nobody else said anything, so Max proceeded onto his next and final point.

“Ok, so, onto point number three;” he said, “I have a very flexible schedule and am, in my personal opinion, creative.” He paused for a moment and then continued. “I usually am free almost every single day, so that means that I can storyboard, voice, and animate the show alongside others working on this show.” He finished.

“If the show gets accepted, that is.” He added on.

“Ah, you have a flexible, no, very flexible schedule you say? Does that mean that you could work, let's say, eight hours a day throughout the whole week?” The executive at the front asked with a slight smirk.

“If it's a normal week then yes, I could work eight hours for every day of that week.” He responded.

“Ah, that's very good, no, great even. I do hope that if you expect this show to even have a chance at success you plan on giving your full one hundred percent effort towards this. Wouldn't want to fail, would we?” The executive hissed at Max.

“Uhm, uh, yeah, I do plan on giving my all for my show, if it happens at least. I do not want my show to fail and would never slack off on it!” He said with as much vigor as he could muster up.

“Hmm… ok. So, you plan to do anything, correct?” the executive asked.

“Wh-why yes! Of course! I’d do anything and everything for my show!”

“You don't care about the payment given out for the show, right? After all, you don't wanna be a failure, right?”

Just as Max was about to respond, the executive at the right side of the table yelled “Hey, don't do that! You do this with everyone that has ever presented here and then when they agree to the terms after you do some more haggling and ‘bargaining,’ they get burnt out within at most five months!”

“Oh shut up, you, you…” the executive’s words trailed off, mumbling some sort of insult at the end.

“I'd say the man who's been working here for longer and has a higher salary than you should be allowed to give his opinion more than you, newin.” The executive near the left side of the table shot at the executive at the right side of the table.

“Uhm…” Mumbled Max.

Chapter Text

After that shot was taken soon the entire table became a battle ground of hurled insults and comparisons of salaries, that of which left a confused and frightened Max in front of the table.

“So you shouldn't be talking about ‘dilemmas’ or ‘problems’ if you want to actually get paid the same amount like the rest of us! There's a reason for why he's making more than you and me, cunt.”

“Yes, you newins never listen to your elders and it shows! This is why all of your contracts are always behind, because you care about being ‘safe’ and ‘human’ when what you should be caring about is payment and time. You trying to make your employees comfortable is what's making you lose money!”

“Um, first of all, it's ‘humane’ not ‘human,' secondly, sure my contracts are behind sometimes, b-”

“More like all the time, when was the last time any of your contracts have been right on time, huh?”

“How about you learn to speak when it's your turn instead of blabbering all the time, huh?”

“Oh that's rich coming from the guy that just interrupted the guy that's making more than you just to try to make him earn less money!”

“I wasn't interrupting him to make him less money! Although with how far he has a stick up his ass he could use less money I’d say. I was interrupting him because every time he gets a contract he burns out the creativity and the show turns into a shit slob of garbage that only a mother could try to love! Unlike you all, I care for my shows more than just the basic level of care that y'all have for money and control over other people!”

Honestly, Max couldn't tell who was talking, he was just really scared, but he didn't want to ruin his chance, so he stayed in the room. Not that he could've left the room, though, he was shaking too much to do so.

Whoever was talking continued talking, "There's a reason why my contracts have the highest rated shows and most active communities compared to your trash heaps that you dare call ‘shows’! Honestly I think you should feel ashamed of yourself, I mean I would be if I helped create shows that bad!”

The person paused for a moment to see if anyone would say anything before continuing, “Also, before I was rudely interrupted by that freak over there, my contracts are usually behind because I put actual care into my work and don't half-ass everything until I've finally faked it to make it!”

“Who gives a rats ass about the ratings!? What are you, one of those internet critiques? What you should be caring about is the money, money is what helps us continue making deals and contracts, which are needed to even make a show at this level possible!

Max got a bit hurt at the insinuation that ‘internet critiques’ weren't smart enough to know about money, seeing as he has done critiques on other media before, but he stayed quiet because of yet again, fear of the executives that were arguing. He didn't want to be put in the middle of this argument and for a fleeting moment he pretended that the comment didn't affect him at all as he had gotten comments like that on a daily basis.

Of course the comment did affect him and he realized this very quickly after that moment. He also soon realized that the negative comments left on his works daily had also, albeit they left him with less sadness than the (unknown) insult from the executive, had hurt him, too.

He was starting to spiral. He was going to spiral.

Spiral, spiral, spiral, spiral. All he could do was spiral…

Why had he even tried with his dreams in the first place? He ‘knew’ this was going to end badly, but yet… here he was, in front of executives that probably didn't even care about him. Most of the people who watched him didn't even care about him. They just sat or stood around, waiting for someone new, pure, and pristine to watch. The audience was uncaring, so why should he care?

He didn't even have any friends that cared about him. He usually spent all of his days alone or with Goof- Goofball. His dreams are basically in the toilet now, with them all arguing. They would probably see through his stupid cartoons. He talked to his computer sometimes, not because he was on a call, but because he couldn't talk to anyone else.

All he had was himself.

“Well,” a hopeful voice said at the back of his head, “you also got Burnbot.”

Yeah, he guessed, he did also have Burnbot.

“You also have your mom. She loves you.” the voice said with confidence.

Yeah, he definitely had his mom to support him.

“And, maybe you also have Goof?” The voice asked with some quivering hope.

He shivered even more so than when he was mentally present during the executives’ argument, even though he was still shaking even as he was dissociated.

“Ok, no, first off, his name's Goofball. Secondly, he's a pain in the ass, and not the good kind!” He retorted mentally at the voice.

“Also, I just said pain in the ass as a figurative figure of speech. I don't know what a good pain in the ass feels like.” He added on a bit too slowly and too quickly all at the same time.

He physically bit his bottom lip, “I'm not gay,” he said internally.

“Seriously, I'm not gay, I don't like guys like that.” He said for whatever reason trying to convince the voice in his head.

What was up with him? The voice said literally nothing about his sexuality and he just (internally, thankfully) jumped to defend it from nothing.

A rather loud slam sound broke him out of his dissociation.

“and we can't fuckin’ make any contracts if we don't move forward! Look at the guy's face, he's terrified, he can't even stop shaking!” The voice boomed.

Chapter Text

Max visibly jumped from how loud the voice was. He then realized that he was still shaking, so he tried to steady himself. The shaking died down, although still very much alive, but he could finally move himself again.

“Sorry, Max. We didn't mean to get into such a heated discussion with each other at the table. We promise to behave better. We just were in the mood to talk and it went a bit awry, that's all.” Said a voice.

Max couldn't tell who was talking so he tried to discreetly scan the room to figure out who was talking. He wasn't very discreet in his scanning though, so an executive helpfully pointed a finger at who was talking. The executive seemed to not want to be seen, though.

Huh?

“Ah, sorry for confusing you there friend, the one that was talking there was me.” A person who wasn't there at the beginning of the meeting said.

“I just came in here to make sure that these executives were behaving properly towards our guest. After all, our company only runs because of the brilliant minds behind our shows.”

“Oh, um thank you so much sir!” Max said.

“Me and some of the executives here will be having a discussion on how to properly behave like adults after this, so you can be guaranteed that this will not happen again!” The person said cheerfully.

Max just nodded his head with that, not wanting to say the same thing again, partly because of him just not wanting to be repetitive, but another part being that he didn't want them to get into another argument.

“Alright! So where were you in your presentation?”

“Uhh, I was just finishing it up, actually!”

The executive from the right side of the table seemed to want to say something just as Max spoke, but he held it in to allow Max to speak and not get in trouble with his boss again.

“S-so, um, does anyone have any more questions about the amount of time that I could spend on the show everyday,” he trailed off at the end of ‘day,’ “or any other questions of course!” He muttered frantically.

Two of the executives seemed disappointed at his attempt at an ending of a sentence, but they half-tried to not show it on their faces.

“Well,” the executive clapped his hands together and got up, “while you were giving your excellent presentation,” he paused for emphasis and peered towards his boss for a moment, “I searched up your show on the interwebs and got a couple of questions.” He looked directly into Max’s eyes.

“Oh, wh-what questions!?” More sweat started to creep down his back.

“Hmm… so- how do you plan on gearing this cartoon towards a younger audience, like teenagers? When my subordinates were talking to me about this show, ‘Brain Dump,’ they told me that your show was a bit crude and I decided to not give my attention to the rest of whatever they were saying as I knew that this show had potential,… but-” he was quietly interrupted.

“More like didn't bother to listen to the people who actually know what they're doing…” The executive on the right side of the table whispered.

The executive was firmly and quickly hit with his boss’s elbow, the boss trying to do it as desecretly as possible.

Could that have counted as battery? Maybe, but they all knew that the boss could change important minds with his wealth.

Max, unsure if he was allowed to keep talking, felt a bit weary when saying: “I-I was going to- planning to- uh- make BurnBot have more, uhm, ‘child friendly’ remarks and have Goofball edited out whenever he shows up.”

“Also, I've heard that you've got a bit of uh- how do you say… notoriety in your little, ah, corner of the interwebs. You've been known to be, well, edgy… if that's the right word to describe it.” An executive chimed in. “How will we, as a team,” he seemed a bit strained when saying this, “work on your public image to repress any, say, ‘false narratives’ that others may try to spread about you?”

“Uhh… I think, um, th-that I-I mean w-we. Yes! We, uhm, could just show them that I'm different now a-and plus, uh…” Max trailed off.

“So, I think that most of us agree,” the executive gave a poisonous leer towards the other executive near the right side of the table, “we should start deleting your past works from the public eye, correct?”

Some quick murmurs and hums of agreement were shared across the room, although there was also a rather loud interjecting grumble, too.

“Okay then! So Max, how about this,” The bald man at the front of the room instantly perked up at his words, “we'll create a contract and send you an email later in the week that you could later look over and request changes on. There's only a little bit of allotted time left for this meeting though, so how about we start packing up.” The executive said.

“Oh, um, great! I-I hope this meeting was go-good for all of you and you a-all have a wonderful day!” He said, not wasting a moment on catching his breath.

“Yes, yes we will.” The boss said with a smirk.

The clock slowly passed as Max grabbed all of his materials as calmly as he could pretend to be. All of the executives watched him as he sorted his papers and unplugged devices.

Soon, but not soon enough, the higher-ups started to leave the room, giving Max firm handshakes one by one.

“Hey, hope you get the job.” An executive let out with a hollow smile and fierce look in his eyes.

“Yo-you too!” Max said too quickly to rectify his just-done mistake.

Max snapped his eyes shut in embarrassment right after he misspoke, looking constipated to everyone else in the room.

All the rest of the higher-ups in the room gave him quick handshakes and speed past him to do other parts of their jobs.

Max was left in the doorway of the room, sweating and feeling as panicked as he did just a while ago.

Chapter Text

The cartoonist left the large building feeling somewhat empty. Every step felt unnatural, wrong, even. He was wobbling after each movement he made, almost sure he would melt into a puddle and be sucked up by the whole world itself.

He was kind of dissatisfied with generally everything in that moment. He had made a fool of himself in front of all of those important people.

He was somewhat happy that someone stood up for him during the meeting, but imagine how that executive felt watching him, a grown man, have a breakdown. They were all thinking badly about him, he just knew it.

What would he do if he got the job? Would he be able to do it? His palms became even sweatier.

“One foot after another… Watch where you're going…” Max mentally berated himself.

His legs felt like gelatin with how unstable they were. Unable to move in a truly operational manner. His legs shaked from just thinking about them.

“I feel hungry, honestly.” The man thought.

He looked around and saw that there were many food stands around. Each stand was giving off unique aromas, all smelling strongly, even with how far away he was from them.

“That's abnormal… is abnormal even a real word?” He said mentally.

He felt his head start to heat up.

Lots of people were going towards those stands. Lots.

There were some kids at certain stands, too. What type of food were they selling?

“Anyways… I should go back home now. I don't want to stay in this suit any longer. Ugh, I'm so sweaty…” He thought.

Speedily walking, he went block after block, street after street, back home. His feet were getting tired with how long he had been standing up the entire day. His joints were killing him as he went past another house.

After what felt like step after step he had finally made it!

“Whew, finally, I can get into some pajamas, drink something, eat. I could really go for something sweet now…” Max's stomach started growling, “Have I gone shopping this week?”

The bald man felt… happy at those thoughts. Well, most of those thoughts. He didn't want to think about shopping in a public store around other people. He already had enough to worry about as it is.

“Wait, no…” Max thought.

Turns out he hadn't fully been paying attention and had stopped in front of a random house. He hurried away, probably confusing everyone around him.

He looked around… and everything looked… strange? He swore he knew where he was going… right?

Looking at the street signs, the letters all started to jumble, giving him no answers.

“Maybe…” He half-thought.

Max went up to someone to ask them where he was, but his mouth didn't seem to want to move. The random person looked at him strangely before continuing to walk in… some direction.

Max just stood there.

All the warmth he felt was gone.

The houses all started to look monochrome, windows seeming to point at him. Every plant leaned away from him. Some graffiti morphed into incoherent scribbles.

All the oxygen around him seemed to be loaded with negativity, entering his lungs only to burn them. When he exhaled he felt a biting cold through his nose, bitter as it left.

He was seemingly moving. He thought he was, at least.

Buildings were towering over him in ways he didn't realize before, mocking him in silence. Electrical wires laid coiled together, waiting for him to get near them so that they could strike, their plastic wanting to choke him out.

The traffic lights were too bright, strangers were chatting too loud, the ground looked as if it was moving and alive, staring through him.

The dirt and concrete quaked under his weight while staying unmoving under others, almost as if the earth itself was offended by his presence. Things started to grow and shrink disproportionately.

He was able to make out a store in his haziness. A store. Where there'd be other strangers, casting judgment upon him. Hating him.

He felt an acidic taste build up on his tongue, but he swallowed it down. He wouldn't want to force anyone to clean up after him, after all. Others already dislike him enough.

“Imagine,” A voice said in Max's head, “imagine thinking that you're that important. So important, in fact, that someone would ever want to help you. And force? You can't even force yourself to stop thinking about food.” The voice laughed.

He couldn't respond. The voice… it was probably right. He needed to leave, to get out of here. Where was he going? He needed to keep going.

Everything felt fuzzy or like static. He couldn't remember any fine details about what he had just done. He was in a large building, he did… something. It was important, maybe?

Everything was peering into him, knowing what he did. Bugs flew past him in disgust. Birds soared above him with malice.

What did he do?

He was bumped into… no… he… bumped into someone? Where was he? Why was there a distant noise?

Movements and gestures were done towards him. He couldn't say what they were.

He felt like something… maybe the thing he just heard, was giving off a sharp, ringing noise

Had he just heard it? What time is it?

He looked straight up. The sky looked grey.

Random lights seemed to turn on and off at will. Who was doing this to the lights, to the noises… to him?

Things far away from him started to zoom past him, giving off smoke.

Wind started seemingly randomly pelting him with itself, causing him to stumble even harder. Gravity felt… off. A greenish thing hit him because of the wind.

His back felt… bad. Everything was blurry. His… hands? They felt like they had pointed daggers in them, whatever body part they were.

He moved himself for a bit before stopping wherever he was.

He felt something wet flow down his face and absent mindedly remembered that those were tears.

Why was he crying? Or was that rain? More water fell down his face.

He lost vision for a little, or a while? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything, really.

“Why does this always happen to me?”

The noise was getting louder. He snapped his head around and opened his eyes, trying to find… what was he looking for, again?

Liquid kept creeping down from his eyes.

His legs went cold, as if they wanted to detach themselves from his mind.

The noise got louder yet again. He recognized that he was breathing fast.

“Cre…!” the noises seemed to be actual words “Wh… do…?” The voice went up several octaves as it saw… something happen? What was happening?

Whatever was making those noises seemed to be upset. Hopefully they weren't upset at him, though.