Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Max hasn’t talked in four hours. Maybe it’s been longer than that, but it’s been four hours since they left Arcadia. Chloe doesn’t blame her or anything. She’s not sure what they should be saying, or if they should be saying anything. She’s fine with the silence. 

There’s not much going on through her head anyway. Chloe can’t bring herself to think about it yet. Only, Chloe doesn't know where she is. She knows they’re going to Seattle, but her phone is dead and so is Max’s, and neither of them know what direction Seattle is in. They’d just set off.

After a while, Chloe pulled them off to a rest stop to buy a map, some phone chargers, and portable charger box thingies so they’d be able to gain a sense of direction. 

Max had been looking out the window with wide eyes, like she’s waiting for something to catch up with them. Or like she’s keeping guard. For what, Chloe doesn’t know. All she knows is that she’s tired, and Max has never been more awake. 

They’d started off course to Seattle, but Chloe figures that’s fine. She doesn’t mind taking their time to get to Seattle. Max’s parents don’t even know they’re coming. Since Max has charged her phone, her parents have called her five times. Every time her ringer goes off, she flinches and stares at it, waiting for it to stop. Chloe doesn’t ask.

The first time they talk to one another is midday, and it’s because of the song on the radio.

Max had looked over to the dash, where the music was playing, and said; “Hey, it’s your favorite.”

Chloe was confused for a second. “What?”

“The… song.” She said. “From the diner.”

Still, Chloe was a little confused. She knew this song, it was rock, but not heavy metal. It didn’t stand out to her in any way. 

From the blank look Chloe gave, Max could probably tell that she had no idea what she was talking about. “This was the one you chose from the jukebox.”

Then it clicked. “Oh!” She exclaimed. “On fucking Tuesday? How do you even remember that?”

Max almost smiled, this little attempted smile that wouldn’t have even looked like one to anyone else. “When I was a kid, I used to remember your favorite songs on the jukebox.”

“I remember, I used to change what my ‘favorite’ was every, like, week.” Chloe reminisced. “I didn’t know you remembered that back then.”

“I remember when it was ‘I Got You Babe’.”

Chloe smiled to herself. “I remember that song.”

She nodded.

Max spoke so absently, it was chilling. Chloe didn’t want to be thinking it, but she was worried if her best friend was even still in there. Though, maybe she should be more worried about herself. 

Chloe should probably be freaking out, but, she wasn’t. She’d gotten close to it when they were on the overpass by the lighthouse. She still remembered the way her whole mind blanked in total shock when Max had torn that photo. She was so sure Max would know and understand what they had to do, but Max had refused it.

Chloe had offered her the photo, and she watched Max stand there and think about it. Max was a thinker, and she’d always been that way. She was honest in that way. She never made decisions half heartedly. She overthink most of the things she did anyway, so you know when Max comes to a conclusion, she’s thought it out really well. She’d stood there and made a mental pros and cons list and got to an educated conclusion she was confident about.

Chloe was still reeling from the fact that Max honestly believed that Chloe’s life was worth more than the majority of Arcadia Bay’s population. Chloe didn’t think she was worth half as much to anyone. 

It was kind of scary, to think of what Max was capable of doing, and what she was willing to do. But it also felt nice to know she was genuinely cared about, in a really fucked up way. Chloe didn’t think she was allowed to be happy that other people had died because of her. Should she be happy to be alive? Max had done so much to keep it that way, even if she didn’t deserve it. But other people had suffered in her stead. It was confusing.

There was a fog in Chloe’s mind. The reality of what had happened hadn’t totally sunk in yet. It was… a lot to process. The fact that Chloe couldn’t get her thoughts off the ground while Max was alert and aware enough to pick out what song was on the radio said a lot about where their heads were at.

Chloe was exhausted. And taking the long way to Seattle, she’d brought up the idea of stopping at a hotel or something. Max had shrugged, and being unresponsive which she was, Chloe took that as a yes. 

Hotel rooms were expensive, and they’d booked one on the bottom floor of some chain in a town Chloe’s never heard of. Well, Chloe booked it. Max stood behind her quietly while she walked to the lady at the front desk. 

Their clothes weren’t soaked anymore, but they still had nothing to change into. Nothing to wash up with. Chloe was hungry, but didn’t know how to order room service. She was just tired.

She’d laid down on one of the beds, on her back, and closed her eyes. Today had felt so surreal. She was almost afraid that if she went to bed, she’d wake up back in her room like nothing happened. 

Chloe’s entire life had been within the borders of Arcadia Bay. She’d left less times than she can count on her hand. Visits to the hospital, concerts with Rachel out of town, visits to her grandparents in Idaho. The world to Chloe was local and tiny and surrounded by water. Arcadia was this cage trapping her in, only watching the world from the inside. Even if she would break free one day, it still felt like she’d always be tied to it.

But there was no Arcadia Bay anymore. And that was so far beyond Chloe, she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to conceptualize it. Arcadia Bay was a prison that she’d been wanting to escape her entire life, but in many ways, it was home. The only home she’d ever known. Chloe’s connection to Arcadia was weird and twisted but familiar, and no matter how it changed and evolved, Chloe assumed it would always be there, something she could never escape, something she’d always come back to. But it was gone. Forever.

The bed indented, Max had sat down next to her. There were two twin sized beds. Chloe didn’t ask her to move to the other one.

“Are you sleeping tonight?” She asked. Her voice was quiet, almost brittle. 

“Are you not?”

Max didn't reply, so Chloe opened her eyes to see her. Max was looking away. “How are you not exhausted right now?” Chloe asked.

Max shrugged. “I don’t think I can sleep after all that.”

She still wasn’t looking at Chloe, and if Chloe could bring herself to feel anything at all, she’d be worried about Max. Max had seen and done much more fucked up shit than Chloe this week, Chloe didn’t know the half of it. She was a little scared to ask. They hadn’t talked about Jefferson yet.

Max’s phone rang, and she flinched violently. Chloe watched as she took out her phone and stared at the caller id. From where Chloe was laying, she could see that it was her mom. She sat up, but didn’t say anything just yet. She didn’t want to startle Max any farther than she was already.

The phone rang and rang until eventually dying out. 

“You’ll have to call her eventually.” Chloe said. 

“I know.” Max replied. She put her phone down and looked over at Chloe, a question in her eye. She opened her mouth to ask it, but hesitated. After a second, she tried again. “We… there hasn’t been- are you upset with me?”

“What?”

Max’s hands were active, playing with the ends of her hoodie. Anxious. “For what happened. What I did. People are dead because of me. Arcadia, everyone we knew growing up. Your… Joyce could be-“

“I know.” Truthfully, Chloe didn’t know how to think about that. She had no way of knowing for certain. She didn’t know what Joyce’s fate meant for her. She’d thought about it, but only blankly. Only in the abstract. She was just too tired. 

“You can hate me for it.” Max offered. “I know what I did.”

“You-“ Chloe sighed, sitting up straighter. “You didn’t do anything. A crazy fucking tornado that came out of nowhere did this. I know you said you made the tornado, but even if that was true, you didn’t do it on purpose.”

“But I still chose-“

“You chose me.” Said Chloe. “You chose me over everyone else. No one has ever thought of me as that important before.”

“You’re the most important thing to me.”  Max said, lacing her hands together where they lay in her lap. “In the whole world. It’s always kind of been that way, I guess. I know what the world looks like when you’re not there. I lived in that world for five years. I was lonely, I was a coward. I hate who I am when you’re not here. I hate the world when you’re not in it. I don’t want to have to live in that world. I know the choice I made was the selfish one, I know I’ve done something horrible and irreversible and that people are dead because of me. People's lives have been ruined because of me. I feel terribly guilty about it, and I probably always will. But I don’t regret it. And if I had to make that choice again, I’d still make the same one. Even though I know how terrible it is, I’d do it all over again. Does that make me a bad person?”

Chloe’s words lodged in her throat. That was… kind of a lot. She almost didn’t know how to react. Chloe was not worth that much. 

Max waited until she was done speaking to look up at Chloe. When their eyes met, Chloe was looking at the face of her best friend. The girl she’d known since kindergarten. The girl Chloe would recognize blind. “I know you better than I’ve ever known anyone.” Said Chloe. “I know you better than I know myself. You’re a lot of things, Max, but you are not a bad person. I could never hate you for this.”

Max held her eye. “Never?” She asked again.

“Never.” Said Chloe. “I’d do the same thing, if I’m being honest. I hate the world when you’re not in it, too.”

When Max smiled at her, still barely there, Chloe thinks she can see her best friend still in there, still whole.

…

“Hey, mom.” 

Max hates how her voice is so brittle, cracking the second she picks up the phone. Maybe it’s because she hadn’t slept last night. Or the night before. She just can’t bring herself to fall asleep. After she and Chloe got into bed at that hotel, Max had tried to pass out like Chloe had, she just wasn’t able to. Her mind had been going ninety miles an hour since… they left Arcadia. It hadn’t quieted enough for her to be able to fall asleep. She’s been wide awake and alert for over fourty eight hours and it hadn’t begun to wane. It was bizarre.

“Maxine! Oh, thank god. I was so worried.” Her mom said on the other end of the line. “What’s going on, are you safe? Is everything okay? We can see your location but-“

“I’m okay.” Max said. She should be happier to hear her mom’s voice. She feels ungrateful. Chloe is sitting in the car seat next to her. She doesn’t have a mom anymore, and here Max is avoiding hers. It feels selfish. Max is selfish.

“I know- we heard about the hurricane and everything.” She began. “Did you get out? Where are you?”

“I’m fine.” Max repeated. “I made it out fine. I’m with Chloe, we’re headed to you right now.”

“… Chloe?”

“Price?”

“No, I mean- I know.” Her mom clarified. “I just didn’t expect… well, I’m glad she’s okay too. Both of you head over as soon as you can.”

“We will.”

There is so much space between them and Arcadia now. It really feels like that whole town, their whole past, is completely over. Totally behind them. Max feels an odd sense of right-ness in that. She was supposed to be leaving Arcadia. She was meant to leave the past behind and go into the future.

And yet she still can’t stop thinking about what she did. What she could have done differently. But every solution she came up with involved convoluted time travel to the point that it became unrealistic. And she always returned to the truth that the storm would have come unless Chloe died, and Max simply wasn’t capable of letting that happen.

She would have to learn to be okay with that. Chloe said she wasn’t a bad person last night, and Max had to believe that. It didn’t stop her from feeling soul crushingly guilty about it though. 

It was easier that Max couldn’t see the damage she’d inflicted, the people she killed, the lives she’s ruined. With all the distance they’ve put between themselves and Arcadia or what remained, the more time Max had had to think about what happened. As it was happening, she hadn’t had time to think about it. She had been so focused on making it to Chloe and the lighthouse, she’d been able to push through everything.

Now though, Max had no idea how she’d done that. So much had happened. Now that it was calm, Max could feel whatever ribbon that had kept her together unraveling. She kept thinking about it all. She saw the bright white of the Dark Room whenever she closed her eyes. She felt like her heart was going to explode because nothing in her body would settle. It was like the discomfort and anxiety in her stomach was the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

And Max didn’t want to collapse. She didn’t even want to fall asleep. It felt stupid to admit, but she didn’t want to dream. She was afraid of getting stuck again. She wanted to talk about it, but she also didn’t. She was grateful Chloe didn’t ask. 

She was jittery, like she was on caffeine. Her eyes stayed glued out her window, terrified something might catch up to them. Max wanted to run forever. And worst of all, she kept thinking. Her brain wouldn’t shut up. She thought about every horrible thing that may have happened to the people of Arcadia. Every terrible thing Jefferson could’ve done to her when she was unaware. Every horrible thing Chloe must think of her now.

Max’s clothes were dry now, but she felt like she was covered in dry, crusted mud. She felt gross. She felt like a horrible, terrible person- she felt like a monster. She felt weirdly disillusioned, she was so sure that the disaster wasn’t over yet. Something would come and ruin this. Max would have to rewind again and fix it. It was too peaceful, this couldn’t be it. 

They’d gotten breakfast from the hotel, stopped at a gas station for snacks to last them the rest of the day. Max was grateful Chloe was also mostly ignoring the gps in favor of getting them lost and elongating the six hour drive from Arcadia to Seattle into a several day trip.

She was grateful for the silence, but also didn’t feel like she couldn’t break it. She wanted to, she wanted to say something. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t because nothing felt real- all of this felt absurdly real. The only thing that didn’t feel real was herself. Her hands were jittery, and yet she didn't think she had enough energy to run. She was slowly becoming exhausted, yet her eyes were wide open, alert, taking everything in. She knew she was free from the danger, but she couldn’t help it. Max had no idea when or if they’d ever be in the clear. The storm could catch up to them. She wouldn’t know. She knew nothing of her powers.

She should sleep, like Chloe was in the back of the truck, but she was afraid to even lay down. She should talk, but her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She was scared and she was paranoid. She didn’t know how to make it stop, she wasn’t even sure she wanted it to.

In that way, she felt sort of frozen. As Chloe was sleeping in the back of the truck while they were pulled into a rest stop, Max forced herself to move and look around the truck. So far, it looked like other Max and Chloe had packed a few things before leaving the house and heading to the lighthouse. She found a box of Polaroids and the metal box of Rachel’s stuff that had been under Chloe’s bed. There was a sketchbook in her bag that Other Max must’ve put there. She’s looked over every page over the last day or so to keep her mind occupied and eventually became bored again. 

She didn’t want to grow bored, she was afraid of not having something to occupy herself with and then thinking too much. 

After enough snooping around, she found a leather bound journal in the glove compartment. Was this Chloe’s? Max didn’t take her for the journaling type. Curiously, Max opened to a random page, and spotted her own name in cut out magazine letters pasted at the top. She slapped it shut. What was this? It had to be Chloe’s. But why was it addressed to Max?

She could go ask Chloe, but she was asleep. But Max didn’t want to wait until the morning, she needed something to do. After a lengthy debate in her head, Max made up her mind and walked outside the truck. She went over to the back of the truck where Chloe was resting. 

She looked tired, and Max felt bad about it, but she attempted to shake Chloe awake. She didn’t budge. It was kinda weird how peaceful she looked. After everything that had happened, everything Max did, Chloe was alive, here, with Max, in the back of her truck, relaxed and resting. This is exactly what Max had worked so hard and sacrificed for. This right here.

Before she even knew what was happening, Max had her camera in her hands, raised to snap a photo. At the sound of the shutter, Chloe sturred.

“Hmm?” She murmured, raising her head.

Max pulled the camera from her face. “Sorry. I didn’t think that would wake you.”

Chloe hummed, rubbing at her eye, and sat up. “‘S okay. Why are you taking pictures of me in my sleep though? Not that I mind, but…”

The photo printed. Max took it out and shook it dry. “I dunno.” It’s hard to explain. She’s too tired to try. 

“Have you slept?”

Max shook her head.

“Dude, it’s been, like, three days.” She murmured, half asleep. “How have you not collapsed yet?”

“I dunno.” Max repeated. “I know it’s stupid paranoid, but I’m afraid to, I guess. I don’t want to… not be watching. I guess. I dunno. I don’t want to let my guard down. If I’m awake, I can see it coming. Dunno what I’m looking out for. I just don’t want to stop yet. I don’t feel safe. And I don’t want to dream. I got stuck in my own head the last time that happened. What if I don’t wake up?”

Chloe sat forward, resting her elbows on her thighs. “I’ll wake you back up.” Said Chloe. “I did it last time. We can sleep in shifts, like we’re in a zombie apocalypse movie.”

Max snorted, though it wasn’t very funny. Much more depressing than funny, really. “Maybe.”

“If you’re not gonna sleep, come sit with me.”

Chloe, sitting up, used her hands to move herself over to the right, giving half her space up. She gave the empty space on her left a quick pat, indicating Max join her. Max took the offer, too tired to refuse. She sat down so that they were close together. Chloe, once she realized that closeness was purposeful, played into it, leaning against her side. It was all very purposeful. Max had no idea what time of night it was. She felt bad for keeping Chloe awake, she had to drive in the morning. She should tell her to go back to sleep.

“I am tired.” Max revealed. “I’m just not sleepy. Like I’m exhausted, sure, but I’m also super jittery and wide awake. If that makes sense.”

“Mhm,” Chloe murmured. 

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Mm?”

Max reached into her messenger bag and took out the journal she found on the glove box, holding it out in front of herself so the two of them could see it. “I found this in the car, what-?”

Chloe stood up straight and snatched the book out of her hands. “Where did you find this?”

Max, startled, flinched and scooted away so she could look Chloe in the eye. She looked defensive. Max hated how panic lept in her throat, like from that one sudden movement, Max thought Chloe was going to attack her or something. It’s just Chloe. “Uh, in the glove box.”

“Did you read it?” She asked. She sounded defensive.

“No.” Said Max. “Well, I opened it to a random page and saw my name at the top, but then I swear I closed it right back up.”

Chloe sighed, relaxing again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she looked at the journal’s cover. It was decorated with magazine clippings and stickers. “Why were you looking in the glove box?”

Max shrugged. “I got bored.” She said. “Then curious. What is it? Uh, don’t answer if I shouldn’t know.”

Chloe looked at the cover for another moment. Max could hear cicadas somewhere off in the night, and the sound of passing cars on the nearby highway. “No, it’s… it’s whatever.” She looked back up at Max. “Promise to not think I’m pathetic, but after you moved and… didn’t call… I tried writing you a letter. A tried a bunch of times, actually. It just felt weird, so I never sent it. But it felt nice writing to you. So instead of actually getting the balls to reach out, I got this journal and wrote in it like I was writing you a letter. That went on for- god- years. Hella pathetic, but you were the only person I wanted to talk to.”

“It’s… not pathetic.” Said Max, a whisper beneath blankets, a confession quiet enough to not alert parents that they were awake past bedtime. “I missed you too.”

Chloe smiled, then aimed it at the ground. “Yeah, I know.” She replied. “There’s a bunch of notes addressed to you in there. I stopped after… after Rachel and I became friends, basically. I totally forgot it was in there. I remember- I was driving to the old mill trying to find- uh, meeting up with someone, I almost got run over, and I decided not to make any more entries in this thing. I shoved it in there and tried not to think about it. Well, I may have made a few sparse entries here and there, but only about stuff I felt I couldn’t tell Rachel.”

“Like what?” Max asked.

Chloe gave her a thin lipped smile and held out the journal. “Find out.”

One of the things Max felt weird about was how Chloe was acting. Her whole life had been uprooted. The people she’d spent her whole life around were probably all dead. Max had ignored her wishes not once but twice now and caused a calamity on everything and everyone she knew and loved. And yet Chloe’s behavior towards Max hadn’t changed. She didn’t seem resentful. She should be. She’d already said she wasn’t. She had every right to be. She assured Max she could never hate her. Max deserved that hate. Chloe said she would’ve done the same thing.

Slowly, Max reached out and took hold of it as Chloe let go. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” She said decidedly. “Oh and, by the way, I just remembered that you- another version of you, I guess, the Max who was hanging out with me when you were, uh, time traveling or whatever- told me to tell you to check your journal. I think she wrote you a note. Don’t ask me what it’s about, you told me not to read it.”

Max weighed the journal in her hands. “That’s smart.”

“I know,” said Chloe, leaning back on her forearms before laying all the way down. “Are you gonna try and fall asleep?”

Max looked over her shoulder, but still couldn’t see Chloe’s face from this angle. “Not yet.”

She heard a long sigh. “Suit yourself.”

Dear Max

It’s me, you. Kinda. I’m not totally sure I’m even a real person, if I’m being honest. I don’t know where I’ll be when you’re reading this. I feel like I have to document my existence while I still exist. Assuming that I’m not going to exist in a few of ours or however long it takes for you to come back. Maybe I’ll diverge into an alternate timeline? I’m losing track of what I wanted to say here.

Anyway. Right now I’m sitting on the floor on a  bean bag chair in Chloe’s room. She’s right next to me, half awake. After we came home from the party, I’ve felt like the whole world has turned upside down. Everything is so crazy, I don’t know what to believe. I keep thinking about how there’s a real possibility that I’ll just stop existing soon, and what I should be doing about that. And you know what’s crazy? The first thing I thought of was that I wanted more time with Chloe. 

Crazy, right? But I’m thinking about it and it’s like, we only got a few days together. There’s so much more I wanted us to do together. There’s more [redacted] that I wanted to say. 

And then even crazier- the only way that I thought of to do any of that was to ask her to kiss me. Weird, right? It’s like I thought I could squeeze all that time I wanted with her into one embrace. Not at all scientifically possible.

At the time, I didn’t think about the fact that kissing someone is inherently romantic. Which sounds weird out loud. Like, what else would it be? Maybe it’s because I’ve never kissed anyone before, or maybe it’s because Chloe didn’t treat that one kiss we shared all that seriously, but kissing- to me at that moment- didn’t feel like an act of flowery romance. 

My main goal with that was wanting us closer. I just wanted us to be closer together. This is hard to explain. I wanted to pack all of the years I would’ve spent with her, all the love I would’ve shown her in that time, into one single act. And for some reason my mind said “yep, kissing is exactly how you’re gonna do that”.

I wasn’t thinking about it then, but I’m thinking about it now. Chloe is the most important person to me. Ever. It’s always been that way. The more I think about it, the more I realize that probably means more than I think it does. The act of kissing is inherently romantic, and I wanted to kiss Chloe. 

I’ve thought about it a lot. We’re watching a lot of movies tonight. Chloe’s slept through a lot of them. I can tell she’s hurting. I don’t know how to be there for her, but this whole point I’m trying to make is that I’ve come to the conclusion that this is like, our purpose. I won’t be here to do it anymore, so you’ll have to take over. But I realized that Chloe is the most important person in my life, and I need her in a weird kind of way. And I’ve realized that right now, Chloe needs me too. I’m the most important person in her life too, she needs me too. I don’t think I need to figure out much more than that. 

Max, you two need to stick together. Whatever happens after this, stay with her. I feel like that’s what we’ve been made for. Like I was created specifically [redacted] for Chloe and vice versa. This is a super weird thing to try and explain but you know what I’m saying, right? 

Maxoxo

Chapter Text

Oct 15th 2013

Hey. I’m trying to write something down because I always write in my journal to ground myself and make things feel more real. But I don’t know what to write about. I don’t want to write down what happened because I don’t want to relive it. I don’t want to think about it. I hate thinking about stuff. I always end up thinking waaaaay too much. 

Chloe is driving. I am sitting next to her. We’re supposed to get to Seattle in an hour or two. I feel so weird about everything. I feel like we’ll never get there. In this car with Chloe, not really talking, it feels like we’re floating in purgatory and nothing is really happening. I don’t want it to end. I want to drift forever. It feels like if we dock, everything will become real again. And I don’t want to have to face that yet.

I read a journal entry from another version of me, and apparently I figured out I was in love with Chloe twice at the same time and two different timelines. 

It’s even weirder to know how certain I am about that. But at the same time, it makes such perfect sense and I can’t imagine going back to not knowing. It’s bizarre. I don’t know what to do about this. I guess I’m just glad I’m here with her, even if I don’t know what I’m doing.

Yesterday, we were eating at a Denny’s (because road food) and I fell asleep in the middle of eating and slept a whole day. It was so. Weird. I was so scared when I woke up and wasn’t sure where I was. I feel like I’m one panic attack away from separating from my body and never finding it again. I don’t know where I am, sometimes I forget what’s happening or where we’re going. I’m scared I’m disappearing. 

I make sure to keep looking over at Chloe, like that’ll keep me tethered to reality. I don’t know what’s going on or why I feel this way. I’m scared. All I care about is Chloe being next to me. Other Max was right in that letter, it’s where I belong. I’m terrified [redacted].

Chloe pulled off the exit and then things started to get familiar. Roads and side streets became familiar skyscrapers. Chloe had to lean up forward to make sure she knew what she was doing and wasn’t driving the wrong way down any of the roads. Max tried to help but wasn’t much use. 

They drove through the city and eventually narrowed in on the more city style suburban streets Max lived in. Chloe attempting to parallel park nearly gave her a heart attack. 

“Which one is it?” She asked. “They all kinda… look the same.”

She had a point. It was the city, all the houses were very narrow but tall, and pushed together. Max pointed. Not that it mattered, as they were all identical down this street. 

“Not totally how I pictured it.” Said Chloe, pulling the car into park. 

“Yeah.” Said Max. “Different from my old house. It’s even more different on the inside.”

Despite the car being parked, Chloe put her hands back on the wheel. She smiled beneath a bitten lip. “It’s weird how many times I pictured where you must be living now. I guess I just pictured your old house somewhere else.”

Max pressed the buckle to release her seatbelt. “I never got to see my old house while I was there.” She admitted. “Who moved there?”

“I dunno.” Said Chloe. “I saw some younger kids playing on the lawn once. They seemed nice, but I never got to know them or anything.”

Max reached down and put the metal box in her messenger bag. She had their old sketchbook as well as her and Chloe’s journal in there. She’d read through most of the journal already. It detailed a lot of what was going through Chloe’s head after Max left, and then her feelings of David moving in. Mostly, she’d just been lonely and confused. Max wished more than anything that she’d reached out, then they could’ve been lonely and confused together. 

They both exited the car, Max was getting kind of sick of being cooped up in there. She raised her hands above her head to stretch, her hips were aching from being seated for so long. Then she hurried onto the sidewalk and out of the road. People in Seattle would really just run you over.

The houses were all brick and looked uniform but old fashioned. When Max first saw this house, she thought of the industrialization period. The red brick, the black roof, the tall thin windows. It was a townhouse, meaning it was pushed up against all the other houses in a row. So the house was narrow, but they had three floors. Her house had a welcome mat in the shape of a sleeping cat. 

Chloe followed behind Max as she hiked up the few steep steps to the door. Like the rest of the house, the door was tall and thin, the numbers “4613” in brass were tacked to the door, descending. Max didn’t know why she was hesitating like this, or why her anxiety skyrocketed when faced with her own parents. She didn’t know for sure what they’d ask, and Max didn’t want to talk. She’s not sure she can. 

“So, uh,” Chloe began, “what’s our- what’s our plan of action?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, what’re we planning on saying?” Chloe clarified, box under her arm. “I mean, we can’t tell them everything. Can we?”

“Definitely not.” Max agreed quickly. She can’t imagine her parents believing her, even if she went out of her way to prove she could rewind time. They’d throw her at another therapist, or worse, treat her different. 

This was so big. Max didn’t know how to face it, or how to accept it, and definitely not how to talk about it. She’d never been good at that. She’s supposed to be feeling much more than she is and it’s scary how little she feels like a person right now. Her parents might assume she’s hiding something just based on how blank faced she is.

“We… we just tell them we were by the lighthouse during the storm.” Max instructed. “Nothing more, nothing less. If we avoid giving answers, they’ll give up asking questions. They always do.”

It was dark out, and Max could see Chloe by the illumination of the street lamps behind them and the light from the window on her other side. She must be tired from all that driving.  

“Alright.” She said. “I’ll follow your lead, super Max.”

“Not feeling very ‘super’ at the moment, but here we go.” Max pressed down on the buzzer by the side of the door. 

She waited a moment, and nothing happened. The lights were on, she knew her parents were awake. She’d called her mom just a little while ago letting her know they’d be here soon. They should be here. 

Right before Max started to spiral, she heard movement on the other side of the door, and it opened.

Her mom stood in the doorway. She was dressed more casually than Max had ever seen her. She definitely looked worried, her eyes bloodshot, perhaps from all of sleep. Her ever present guilt grew for making her mom worry.

“Maxine!” She exclaimed, the second she saw her. She wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in. Max was taller than her mom now, by a good inch or so, and was able to look over her during the embrace. She looked at Chloe out of the corner of her eye, making eye contact. Chloe looked awkward.

Her mom was hugging her, Max should feel some sense of relief or… or something. But nothing within her had changed. She didn’t feel anything at all. It was terrifying. 

Max forgot to hug back until Vanessa was already pulling away. 

“What took so long? Honey, we were worried sick!” She exclaimed, holding her away at arms length. She spoke again before Max had an opportunity to answer. “We’re so glad you’re here. Can- come inside. Get inside, okay, we’ll talk inside.”

Her mom didn’t speak so much so often, so when she stepped aside, Max followed her instruction. She really must’ve worried her. 

“Ah, Chloe!” She exclaimed, once the former was in view, Max turned around to see, over her mom’s shoulder, Chloe’s awkward smile. “You- you look different, dear.”

“You, um, like the blue?” She stuttered. 

“Um, yes.” She replied, in that tone Max recognized as forced niceness. “It suits you. Get inside, get inside.”

She slipped past Vanessa to stand beside Max in the entryway. It was a thin entryway that gave way to the staircase almost immediately. You’d have to slip past it to get to the dining room. She saw Chloe taking it all in. It’s probably not what she pictured. The ceiling was three floors straight up, where a large ceiling light was hanging. It wasn’t quite a chandelier, not fancy enough. It looked like a big yellow boob. Maybe that’s why Chloe was staring at it. 

There was a mirror over a table stand to their right with those stupid scented candles her mom never used. Her dad’s study was to the right, door closed with a single desk lamp on. Her mom gave Max a quick once over again, like she couldn’t believe she was actually here, and knocked on the office door.

“Honey, Maxine’s here.”

Her dad came barreling out the barred doors- well, it was fast for him, anyway- with a worried expression strewn on his face- well, worried for him. Her dad wasn’t big on emotion or touchy-feeling nonsense, as he often jokingly puts it. Not that Max minds it, or even thinks of it anymore. That’s just her dad. In fact, she may be counting on it now.

He entered the space, taking his time to look from Max to Chloe and back again. She wished she knew what he saw when he looked at them. Her dad was perceptive, but he never called anyone out for anything. Was it possible he could see, just from her face, her posture, how immeasurably plaster she was? Did he look at her and see someone? 

Max had to be physically present, she knew that, but in her mind's eye she was not there. There was no conception of herself. She couldn’t be here, in this house, at her home. She felt so removed from her life when she lived here, the way she acted and how she lived day to day in this house in Seattle. The absentee despondent nature she returned home with didn’t belong in this house. 

“Did you get home safe?” 

“Did she get home safe?!” Her mom repeated. “It took her three and a half days!”

The excuse was easy. “We got lost.”

“You need to do better than that.” Her mom replied sternly. 

“Really?” Max wanted to ask. Her mom- her parents, rather, were hardly ever stern with anything. This was when she put her foot down? Max didn’t have the words for this conversation. She couldn’t match her mom’s energy. Max had no energy within her at all. 

“Um.” She replied blankly. “Our phones were dead, and…”

Her dad put a hand on Vanessa’s shoulder. “She’s tired. Why don’t we talk about it in the morning?”

And just like that, her parents reeled back in, remote and apart from her. Maybe they knew she was adrift. Or maybe just her dad could tell. 

Her mom looked again between Max and Chloe. “Alright.” She agreed. “Alright.” She said again. “It’s late. Very late. Go ahead up to your room honey, and we can set Chloe up in the bonus room.”

Something lurched in her gut and she reached out to grab Chloe’s hand, the one resting at her side and not holding the box. “No.” She said quickly, instinctively. “She’s gonna stay in my room.”

She didn’t look at Chloe to see her reaction. She kept her gaze locked on her mom. Vanessa’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Oh, uh, alright then, hon.” She said passively. That was a familiar tone of voice. At once, Max knew the conflict had ended and her parents had retreated back into complacency. She felt relief, but no sense of calm.

Her mom, tailed quietly by her dad, ushered the both of them up the steep staircase. She noticed Chloe eyeing the walls, seeing the few family photos placed there. Chloe’s family always took such fun family pictures, but not Max’s family. Max’s smile looked forced in practically every single one of these. One she particularly hated was a tourist-y photo of her and her family in the Pike Place Market soon after they’d moved. 

To Max, photos were moments in time, captured for eternity. Whenever you looked at a photo you’d taken, you can remember the exact moment it had been taken. Frozen forever, suspended in that moment. 

To that end, photography was a deeply personal art, at least, to Max. It’s why she hated having her picture taken that day. That was a bad memory. Ergo, a bad photo. There can be a strange beauty in capturing something sad, but Max doesn’t see it here. That day, nearly five years ago, Max and her parents were exploring the Pike Place Market for the first time. It was so loud, so big, so busy, Max was on the cusp of a panic attack all day, yet never quite made it there. Every time she sees that photo hanging there, she’s reminded of the feeling of overwhelm, the total and utter lost-ness she’d felt. It was not a happy feeling, isolation.

They had to walk around the second floor. Her parent’s bedroom, the guest room, both doors closed. Up the next set of stairs, which couldn’t really be counted as stairs, lead up to the airy attic, which was technically Max’s room. She stopped just short of it to share another word with her parents. She knew her mom, at least, still had things left to say.

“Is there anything left you need? Or are you just- just completely wiped out?” She asked. “You’re wiped out, huh?” 

Max nodded, her tongue led. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop nagging you.” Vanessa said. She was fretting, Max recognized it well. Her mom was usually a very quiet person, but she- like her daughter- could get in her own head. 

Although her line of thought never made sense to Max, she always seemed to choose the oddest hills to die on. But when she was worried, it would show in her face in lines and quivers. She would try and micromanage, make herself busy to fix whatever was bothering her until it didn’t anymore. Though, she rarely spent that energy on Max, which Max appreciated. She could manage herself just fine at this age, and she wouldn’t know how to handle that kind of prodding right now anyway. 

“You still have some clothes here to change into, make sure to lend Chloe something. We don’t have your toothbrush here but… you can borrow mine. Oh, and if you need us, we’ll be tucking in too. Well, I will. Your father still has something to get finished.” She doted quickly. Then she turned her attention to Chloe. “Do you need anything, dear? Something to eat? An extra blanket? I can go find a mattress if you want.”

Chloe looked stunned by the sudden attention, but was able to quickly play it off. “Uh- nah. We’ll share. You know, Chloe-and-Max-old-school-sleepover style.”

Vanessa laughed through her nose. “Ah yes, I remember those days. Hopefully you’ll be a bit quieter now that you’re older.” She stepped away. “Sleep well. After you’re rested, first thing in the morning we’ll talk about- about everything. Okay?”

Max nodded her head at the same time Chloe repeated; “Okay.”

While she’s sure her face didn’t show it, Max filled with dread. This wasn’t over. Would she know how to explain herself come morning? She doubted a single night would make her feel normal again. Assuming she’d even be able to fall asleep.

Her mom nodded again, still looking so bothered. Max felt guilt from causing it. She hurried down toward her room. Her dad paused before following, to pat Chloe’s shoulder awkwardly. “We’re glad you’re here.”

Chloe smiled belatedly, hesitating long enough to show her surprise. Then her dad descended down the stairs, following her mom into their bedroom. The doors and walls were thin here, and she could often hear her parents talking about things she wasn’t meant to. She was sure they were going to discuss how fucking weird Max was being, and she didn’t want to hear that.

Before anything else could happen, Max reached up and pulled the string to release the set of stairs that led to her room. Chloe watched her do it. “C’mon.” She said.

Chloe held her gaze understandingly, and followed behind Max as she heaved herself up the stairs. 

Max used to reside in what was now the guest bedroom when she first moved here. Soon after it was apparent she was not settling in well and she started seeing her therapist Dr. Angela, she moved rooms. One of the many tactics to manage that shift Angela recommended was to switch up Max’s room. Something about taking life into her own hands and fresh starts. The attic was the only empty room left. It didn’t help, but she never told anyone that. 

They had to walk up into her room from a door on the floor. The attic had wooden walls as opposed to the beige plaster walls of the rest of the house. Max was well accustomed to the ceiling being pointed like the roof, the triangle window taking up a whole wall, and the unopened cardboard boxes stacked by the corner. They’d never fully settled in, and the attic was originally for storage, so here they sat. Max didn’t even know what was in there, to be honest.

Max moved to the side wall to turn the lights on, and caught Chloe taking the space in. Her room was bare now, most of her stuff left back in Arcadia and probably waterlogged or destroyed. Her bed was tucked into a corner, her walls were naked. Chloe was probably ashamed of the lack of posters. In her defense, Max had taken most of her decorative polaroids with her to Blackwell. She didn’t want to think of where they were now.

She wondered what Chloe thought of this place, looking around like a kid at an aquarium. Was she trying to picture Max living here, thirteen and homesick? She wished she could know what Chloe was thinking, that she’d been gifted with that ability instead of… whatever it was she actually got.

There was a nightstand between her bed and the window that used to be a resting place for her records, but was barren now. Chloe walked over and placed the cardboard box down on its surface. She spotted a few of the remaining photos taped to the walls near it. Most of them were gone now, the only things Max had left behind when packing were the things she’d been too afraid to take at the time.

“Oh, no way! I remember this.” Chloe exclaimed, looking at one of the pictures. 

Max wandered closer to see what she was seeing. It was a photo Max had taken years ago. She was thirteen, aiming a Polaroid at her face. She was off center, showing a young Chloe through the mirror behind her, bent down to the floor, paused to smile where she had been going through old papers. Chloe beamed down at her- Max’s Chloe, blue hair- warmly. “We had a lot of fun looking for that treasure.” Max recalled.

Chloe kept her eyes on the photo. “I can’t believe you have this hanging up.” She said. “I can’t even believe you kept it.”

Max turned to face her. “I kept a lot of junk.”

Chloe’s face lit up as she darted her gaze over to Max. “Like what?”

A smile creeped onto Max’s face. She’d left a lot of Max and Chloe specific stuff home, self conscious that Chloe might judge her for clinging onto it. But now, she opened the drawer of her nightstand with glee and took out the old yellow binder. 

She brought it over to her bed, sitting down on the edge. Chloe came in soon after, sitting at her side. She opened the photo album to a random page as Chloe watched over her shoulder. Most of the photos here were of Max and her parents, but one on the bottom left showed Max and Chloe, probably around five to seven, in their bathing suits, at the beach. They were soaked, sand in their hair. They were sitting down by the shore, probably trying to make a sand castle. 

“Oh man, this is hella ancient!” Chloe laughed. “We gotta add my stuff in there.”

Max laughed back, even if she didn’t feel the gesture as much as Chloe probably did. She stood up, album in hand, and dropped it in the cardboard box with Chloe’s Polaroids. “In the morning. I’m wiped.”

Chloe chuckled, standing back up. “Yeah, I’m pretty tired too.” She agreed. “You got anything for us to change into? I might die if I have to wear this outfit another day in a row. I think it might’ve fused permanently to my skin.”

“Yeah, I think I left some of my clothes behind when packing…” she mused. 

Max wandered over to her freestanding wardrobe and opened the top drawer. It was empty. She tried the second one, then the third, but only the bottom one had anything left. Max groaned. She only had like, four shirts here. She’d left them behind because they were too big, had stains or holes, or were just straight up cringe.

Chloe walked up behind her, crouching to the floor and taking one of the shirts and standing up with it. “No way- Hawt Dawg Man?!” She held the shirt up to her chest and smiled broadly, and Max felt her face go red and her skin crawl. She knew, logically, that Chloe wouldn’t make fun of her. The reaction was based more on feeling embarrassed for herself than anything else. 

“Yeah, it’s a bit big on me.” She said instead. 

“Dope, it’s mine now. Hold this.” She instructed, holding the shirt out for Max to take. Then she stripped off the tank top she was wearing like it was nothing. Max looked away a second too late, but Chloe didn’t seem to notice or care. The crawling on her skin multiplied until Chloe took the shirt from her and threw it on over her bare torso. “You have any pants?”

Max bent down and took out her pair of least torn sweatpants and handed them off, taking out a change of clothes for herself as well. She knew she was the only one making it weird, Chloe didn’t seem to care. She felt weird, undressing. At all. She knew Chloe was the only one here, but it felt like there were eyes on her, a chilling sensation she couldn’t shake. She did it quickly.

It was definitely relieving to be out of those clothes when it was over. Chloe had a point, it felt like they’d melted against her skin. She ended up in a Hatsune Miku shirt that was a few sizes too big. She’d found it while thrifting in her sophomore year and almost died. She hadn’t bothered to check the size before buying it.

She knew Chloe was tired, so she didn’t bother to ask if she wanted the lights off. She just flicked off the switch and sat down on her bed, sitting with her knees to her chest, side leaning against the wall. Chloe joined her seconds after, laying on her back. 

“You gonna sleep?” She asked.

Max shrugged.

“You even gonna try?”

She looked away. 

Truthfully, it would be blissful right now, to just drift away and forget about everything for a few fucking hours, but Max’s mind was racing. She kept thinking about that conversation she was going to have with her parents, the uncertainty of the future, and the danger of the past. Max wished she could pause time right here and now and ensure their safety from the raging tides of time, but she couldn’t. They were moving ever forward now, she couldn’t protect either of them from what could lay ahead. The uncertainty was maybe what was paralyzing her the most. Her entire life had derailed in a week, she had no idea what to do with herself anymore. She was lost and she was scared and she was frozen.

One of the things she’d learned this week was not to let things like this paralyze her. Being stuck in indecision makes Max end up doing nothing- saying nothing, and letting opportunities pass her by. She misses life by being stuck in inaction. She needed to face her future, face the unknown. But that was easier said than done. Having this power made everything more manageable. She could control the speed that the future would come barreling into her. Take the time to decide on her own time. But she also knew that using this power had disastrous consequences. Now she was stuck in an uncertain future again. 

Chloe turned in her side, facing Max’s legs. “Hey.” She said. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

Max bit her lip. “It’s confusing. I dunno how to phrase any of it.”

Choe reached out, putting a hand on her ankle. “Try?” She asked. “I need to know, I want to understand.”

Max risked a glance downward at her. Chloe was looking back up, blue hair out of her face, pupils blown wide in the dark. Max braced her palms against the bed and pushed herself down to lay on her back, turning on her side so she and Chloe were facing one another underneath the covers. “I don’t think I can ever use my rewind again.”

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding? You saw what happened.” Max argued.

“Okay, but we don’t know for sure that that was you.”

“I know it. I felt it.” Max tried her best to explain. “When we were out there, in that storm, I could literally feel time tethered together, tangled- all tangled up in that storm. The storm was just a big gigantic tangle of time. The only reason time was all tangled up was because I kept fucking with it.”

“Why would the universe give you a power, and then get that fucking pissed when you use it?” Chloe asked.

Max shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know if anyone ‘gave’ me this power anyway. Maybe it was all a mistake. Chaos theory, right? Maybe it was random. Maybe it never should have happened.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“I don’t totally know what to believe. All I know for sure is that I can’t ever use my rewind again.” Max lamented. “All of last week… if there’s anything I’ve taken away is that nothing good comes from spending that much of your life reliving the past. For the five years I lived here, I wasn’t moving forward- I was holding myself back, overthinking everything I’d done those three days after William’s death, not moving on, not moving forward, freezing myself in time. It was lonely.”

Chloe broke the eye contact, looking down past the sheets between them. “I get that.”

Max reached out to hold the hand Chloe was resting outstretched on the mattress. She looked back up. “That’s why we can’t ever use the rewind again. All that does is keep us in the past. We’ve gotta learn to accept what’s past, and move into the future. Together. You understand?”

Chloe squeeze her hand back. “That’s easier said than done.”

“I know.” Max sighed. “But we’ve got each other now, right? We can take it one step at a time, together, can’t we?”

“I guess that does make it easier.” Chloe chuckled. “That all? You gonna be able to sleep now or what?”

Max’s late smile fell. “I dunno.” She answered honestly. “How do you prevent nightmares?”

“Well, nothing that happens in a dream can possibly happen in real life.” Chloe reasoned. “So, let’s lay out everything that happened in your nightmare, and I’ll tell you why none of that could actually happen.”

Max’s smile returned- hesitant and unsure. “Okay. Sure.” She agreed. “Um, my dream started in class.”

“Well that’s easy, Blackwell is gone and you don’t even go there anymore. Next!”

“Blood spattered in the window.”

“That’s scientifically impossible.”

“Jefferson- he asked me… if I wanted to stay in his Dark Rook forever… and I said yes.”

“Well, that jackass is either in jail or dead, so.” Chloe reasoned. “Plus- there’s no world where you’d ever say that.”

“I was in the girl’s hallway… I saw Kate. She said I was a horrible friend for stopping her on that roof. Then she opened her dorm room’s door and it led to that roof again… and she jumped. I couldn’t stop her.”

“Again, Blackwell is gone, so you and Kate can’t be there. And Kate would never call you that, you’re the best damn friend she’s ever had- that anyones ever had, honestly. And her dorm room- even if it was still there- does not, in fact, lead to the dormitory roof. That makes no sense. And she wouldn’t try jumping again, no way! She’s safe in a hospital in Newberg, and that's because of you. And besides, her life isn’t your responsibility.”

“Then the hallway was different, and I was Victoria Chase.”

“Alright, that one makes no sense at all, I’m not going to explain why.”

“Then I was me again, and the hallway was filled with Rachel’s missing person’s posters.”

“All those posters…” Chloe deflated slightly, and Max regretted bringing her up. She knew it was still a sore spot for Chloe, and probably always would be. Stupid stupid… “… they’re all at the bottom of the bay by now.”

“Then…” Max began again, slower, “I was in the hallway. Only… everyone was moving and talking backwards. I couldn’t understand anyone. I was the only one moving forward, I was a total fish out of water. I’d never felt so isolated.”

“If you see a hallway of people moving and talking backwards, you’ve transcended realities. If that is something you’re capable of, tell me now or forever hold your peace.” Chloe announced. Max chuckled despite it all. Chloe grinned. “So, basically, impossible. And it’s impossible for you to be isolated. The two of us. Forever, remember?”

Max nodded. “Right.” She agreed.

“What happened next?”

“Then…” Max struggled to recall, “I walked down the hallway and saw the ghost deer from my tornado vision leading me to the bathroom where I saved you the first time. But instead of the bathroom, I winded up in this… god, I don’t even know what it was. It was like this.. infinite black void with only a bit of solid ground. There was this big huge maze separated into sections, and people were after me. People I was afraid of. Principal Wells, Frank, Nathan… Jefferson. And.. Warren and Samuel. I realize I was afraid of- of all the men in my life. I’d never been so scared. They had these flashlights and they were calling out to me, trying to get me to come out of hiding…”

“Well shit, that is pretty terrifying.” Chloe admitted, her eyes wide and worried. “But… I mean, I shouldn’t have to explain why that’s not possible. Unless you know of any black voids out there.”

“Chloe…”

“Max, you’re safe. We’re safe now. You did that. You saved us. It’s over now.”

Max tucked her chin down to her chest. “Then why doesn’t it feel that way…?”

Chloe took a pause. It was long enough to make her chest tighten uncomfortably. “Maybe it’ll feel like that for… for a long time.” Chloe replied eventually. “But that doesn’t make it true. We are safe, Max. We did it. You did it.”

Max took a deep breath, in and out. It did little to soothe her. “You’re right.”

“What happened after that?” Chloe prompted.

“I… I sat down on the bench by the lighthouse.” Max continued. “Then I was in a version of the lighthouse that was actually a snow globe on your mantle. You know where- above the fireplace. And it was.. that day when… you know. And I had to sit there and watch you and William talk a make pancakes… and watch him walk out that door…”

“… Jesus.” Chloe exhaled. “That dream of yours really didn’t hold anything back, huh?”

Max shook her head.

“Well… well all that- it already happened. And you said that we can’t go back to that. We can’t live in the past anymore, right?”

“Right.”

“So there’s no use in blaming anyone for that day. It happened. Time to move past it.”

“… Right.” Max repeated.

“Right. So, nothing to be scared of there.” Chloe decided. “What next?”

“Well, I was in the Dark Room…” Jesus, that part of her nightmare was fucking embarrassing. She didn’t want Chloe hearing about it. “… then I was in a bathroom. Then I was in the Two Whales, and everyone in Arcadia Bay was frozen in time, hanging out in the diner. They didn’t move, but I could hear their voices, begging me not to kill them.”

“Fuck, okay…” Chloe sighed. 

“Yeah.”

“That wasn’t… none of that. None of that was your fault, Max.”

“Okay, but I mean, it is though.” Max argued. “I created that storm, I-“

“You didn’t know that would happen, Max.”

“I got a warning on Monday, but I ignored it.”

“Well, that warning wasn’t super specific.”

“I still should’ve listened.”

“Max.” Chloe emphasised. “It wasn’t. Your fault. Okay? It wasn’t. You couldn’t have known. You didn’t ask for these powers. You couldn’t have known. You owned up to your actions and let the repercussions for them happen, even though you did nothing to deserve that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Max sighed. Logically, she knew Chloe was right. But when she thought about it, when she heard Chloe say it, it felt false. If it wasn’t her fault, whose was it? The blood of all those people… that was on Max’s hands. 

“What happened next?”

“Nothing eventful.” Max sighed.

“Nothing? Really?”

She looked away.

“Max.”

“It’s just-“ she looked back up. “I don’t want you to think I’m ridiculous.”

Chloe shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Max bit her lip. It felt weird, trying to explain that part of her dream. Say it out loud, even. It felt too… real? Max knew how she felt about Chloe. After everything that’s happened… it was almost too easy to slip into understanding about that. But that didn’t mean that she was in a rush to let Chloe know about it. She only just figured it all out, she was in no hurry to push that anywhere. She didn’t even know where she wanted to push it! She was comfortable where she was, for now.

So maybe she should just… be vague. For now. 

In her dream, Chloe had been cruel. She’s said that she didn’t view Max as an adult, rather a child who couldn’t communicate her needs. She said that Max was annoying and that eventually she’d realize how pathetic Max was, and how Chloe could do so much better. That after everything Max had done- abandoned her, caused the deaths of her hometown and her loved ones- that she would realize what a horrible person Max was and ditch her.

“How do you see me?” Max asked. “I mean, be honest. What am I to you?”

Chloe’s gaze didn’t leave hers, but her eyes did widen, like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “I… you’re my best friend. Why?”

“No, not like that.” Max reiterated. “When you see me, am I the same little kid who left for Seattle?”

“What? No, of course not!” Chloe refuted easily. “Max, you’ve changed and grown so much since then. And in the five years you were in Seattle, not really for the better. Seattle wasn’t kind to you, I can tell that now. When we met up again on Monday, you’d closed up on yourself. But you’ve definitely matured, I mean… But anyway- just in this past week, you’ve gotten bolder, braver, you’re understanding yourself in ways you’ve never given thought to before. You’re so… fully realized. You’re not the same thirteen year old kid I remember.”

Max nodded. She knew now why that was so important to her. It felt ridiculous, but she wanted Chloe to think she was mature. Not… not a lot of people did. All through high school, her peers grew and matured and people sought them out. Romanticly, I mean. No one had looked at Max that way. She’d sort of internalized that she just wasn’t that type of girl. The pretty kind. The kind that people would actually want to date or have sex with. Though sex was probably the last thing on Max’s mind after…

“Sometimes… sometimes I have a hard time… talking… about stuff.” Max began. “Does that ever- do you find that annoying? Or hard to deal with?”

“No.” Chloe answered quickly. “Max, I know you better than anyone else. You pretty much always make sense to me. I understand you even when you don’t talk. That’s never been a problem for me, you know that. You’ve got a hella shit poker face, anyway. I can always tell when somethings wrong, and I can pretty much always get it out of you. So no- no problems there.”

Max sighed, the ache in her chest alleviating. She already knew that. “How about… after everything that’s happened, everything I’ve done…”

“I'm not going anywhere.” Chloe answered before she even got to finish. “Don’t even start, we’ve hashed this out already. Forever, remember?”

Max smiled. “I remember.” She said softly. “Uh, last one. Do you.. I mean, you like girls, right?”

Chloe’s eyebrows shot up, but she don’t seem put off by the question. “Oh. Uh, not where I thought this was going. Um- what brought you to that stunning conclusion, Sherlock?”

“Chloe…”

“Yeah. Why?”

In her dream, she’d watched Chloe be… intimate… with Warren, Nathan, and Victoria. Chloe had mentioned confident nerds to be attractive to her, which described Warren. Then her mind wondered if someone with more confidence in general was her type, and brought out Nathan. Then she conjured Victoria, because in Max’s mind, Victoria was everything Max was not. Confident, fashionable, comfortable, articulate. 

There was nothing to be jealous of, Max knew that. She hadn’t been jealous, it was more of her typical insecurity. She was afraid someone else- anyone else- was better than her. She already thought everyone was, she was afraid Chloe would see it that way too. Afraid of not being the epicenter of Chloe’s attention… the way Chloe was her’s. Maybe that was selfish, but… if Chloe didn't like men, Max would at least stop having intrusive thoughts about Nathan and Warren. Wait, she didn’t like men, right?

“And you… men aren’t-“

“God no.”

Max snorted, Chloe joined her. Chloe looked at her intently, waiting for her to continue, like they were on the cusp of something, right on the end of Max’s tongue. 

“Do you…” she started. “This is probably gonna sound stupid.”

“Say it anyway.” Chloe pushed.

“Do you- would you ever….” Max sighed. This was definitely gonna sound stupid. “Do you find Victoria attractive?”

Chloe’s entire face fell, quickly morphing into deep confusion. “What?” She sputtered. “Victoria? Like Victoria Chase? From Blackwell?”

“Yeah…?”

“Wow.” Chloe exhaled. “I don’t even- this is not at all where I thought this conversation was going. I just- Victoria?”

“Yep…”

“Jesus. No. Why would I-? Victoria Chase is such a bitch. She’s one of the worst people I’ve ever met. Well, that’s not true, but she’s up there. She makes drama for no reason, she’s rude to everyone I’ve ever seen her talk to, and she doesn’t even- she’s not even that hot! Like objectively, I guess, face wise, she’s okay. But her haircut is terrible and she’s always making this face, like she’s eating a lemon. Its unattractive. Also also- she doesn’t even know my name. She calls me ‘Kari’. Who the shit is Kari?!”

Max laughed into the covers. “Alright alright, I’m sorry I asked!”

“Victoria Chase…” Chloe repeated to herself, “Out of all the questions you could’ve asked… What prompted that?”

“Uh, nothing.” She chuckled.

“Fine, keep your secrets.” Chloe replied.

“You know what? I think I’m cured.” Said Max. “I’ll sleep through the night now.”

“Actually?”

“With luck.” Max said, shifting to lay on her back again. 

Chloe looked at her another moment, then laid on her back as well. “Then good luck, Max.”

Chapter Text

Oct 16th, 2013

I managed to fall asleep last night, thank dog, but that didn’t make this morning any less stressful! Mom made us French toast and sat me down on the couch to talk about everything that had happened. Chloe and I lied through our teeth about the events of the last week. We even had to lie about how we reunited! We left out anything to do with our investigation, or Jefferson, or my rewind. So basically everything. We ended up only telling her that we ran into each other one day on campus, hung out all week, and that this craaaazy storm came out of nowhere while we happened to be at the lighthouse, out of the way of it.

I felt kinda shitty lying to my parents like that. I feel like one of the reasons my parents give me so much space and freedom is because I don’t do anything with it. I’m a good kid, and a pretty bad liar, they know to trust me and leave me by my lonesome. So it did sort of feel like betraying their trust a little, but it’s not like I could tell them the truth. Not about my rewind and definitely not about [redacted] everything that happened.

But it turns out that Jefferson was on the news and my parents already knew what he’d done. He’s in jail now apparently. Is it bad that I kind of wish he’d died in that storm? I mean, out of everyone in Arcadia Bay he’s the one that deserves [redacted]

I had to lie again and say I had no idea. I am glad that what happened to Rachel finally got out. She deserved that much. They have record of everything he’s done in that room, and it’s been published. I haven’t looked at it yet. 

I guess I can’t speak out about what [redacted] he did to me now because I’m not on those files. In this timeline, I was never in the Dark Room. 

Not that I’d really want to talk about it with strangers, I guess.

They also brought up going back to school. I guess they could see how freaked out that made me because they only said that I should think about going back and finishing my senior year. They extended the offer to Chloe, and we had to explain how she got expelled her sophomore year. My mom looked scandalized, but she hasn’t been a dick to Chloe yet so I count it as a win!

Chloe and I have been up in my room for an hour since and she’s asked me what I’m thinking. Honestly, I don’t know what to think. Every time I hear Jefferson’s name, I see blinding white behind my eyelids, and then I feel absolutely disgusting. I don’t want to think about him anymore.

And school? I’d actually rather drink bay water than step one foot inside my old high school. I hated it there. I’d rather just never graduate at all. But I know my parents would hate that, so I didn’t say anything when I had the chance. I'd just stood there like an idiot and said “okay! I’ll think about it”. 

Don’t tell anyone (haha, diary joke) but every time I think about the potential of me going there, I feel sick. Like totally overwhelmed I might throw up sick. I hope they drop it.

Oct 20th, 2013

I guess it was inevitable, but Chloe wanted to check the online list of known survivors from Arcadia. I don’t blame her for being curious, and I didn’t say that how I [redacted]

It was a longer list than I expected. Not really sure what I expected. But it looked like 2,000 ish people made it out. Chloe said a lot of people living near Newberg probably made it out, the father in that direction the better. Others just got lucky. 

I didn’t look at the list, but Chloe did. I know she didn’t find Joyce on there. I asked if she wanted to talk about it, but she didn’t. 

I know she’ll want to talk eventually. That’s the kind of person Chloe is- she has big emotions and she has to get them out. I’ll be ready when she is.

Oct 21st, 2013

David called Chloe today, yelling, angry that we had survived and made it out, then ran away. I listened when she yelled with him back and forth. I guess what really struck me about it is what she said right before hanging up; “Why would I ever go back to a town that hates me? You’re the reason I’m never coming back. Piss off, don’t call me again.”

He did try to call again, a couple times since. Chloe had to block his number. My parents are trying to figure out how to get her phone on our family plan, which is pretty cool of them. They’d kind of just decided she’s one of us now. Which I’m definitely glad about. I don’t know what I’d do if they didn’t let her stay. I guess I wouldn’t be staying either. We go together. 

I know the David thing stressed Chloe out. She ranted angrily about it after hanging up. I hope being in Seattle is good for her. I hate it here, but if Chloe likes it, then I’m glad we’re here. She deserves to be somewhere and not have to worry about getting into arguments about everything with David. And she deserves someone who pays attention to and meets her needs, unlike Joyce. Even though I know Chloe misses her. 

I don’t have much to weigh in on Chloe’s situation with David, but I know being around him isn’t great for her mental health, so for that reason I’m glad she got away from him. I’m still sorry about how it happened, but Chloe still refuses to hear me out on that. I’m lucky she’s here.

Oct 23rd, 2013

I hate that I can’t be in the rain anymore. I used to love it. Now, I can only think of the storm. I remember before moving, I was so worried that our roof wouldn’t be stupid thin and I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep to the sound of redicilously loud rain overhead. 

Now, I’m grateful for our thick roof. Being inside the house with the windows closed is the only way I don’t feel my anxiety skyrocket when it rains anymore. I hope I can enjoy it again one day.

Oct 24th, 2013

It’s been weeks, and I’ve barely slept at all. I think my parents have started to notice. I’m trying to choke down food, but I find it hard. Losing sleep- that’s happened before. When my anxiety gets really bad, that stuff. But I’ve never had trouble eating before. But every time I go to do it, I get nauseous. Like, super nauseous. I don’t know why. 

I’m taking showers every day now, because I always feel gross. And every time I get undressed and get in the shower, I get super self-conscious that someone is watching me or something. But that makes no sense, no one could be watching me in the shower, the curtain is closed. But I can’t help it, I keep thinking it, so I rush all my showers. It’s like a weird cycle I’m stuck in. 

I’m uncomfortable all the time, like I just can’t relax and accept the fact that no one is watching me, I can’t believe that I’m actually safe. I don’t feel safe. Why can’t I just chill out? Every second of every day I am at 100 percent. It’s tiring.

But things are starting to feel a little real, anyway. Chloe asked what we should do for Halloween. It's nice to see she’s already thinking about that. I remember when we used to go to the annual Halloween Bazaar in Arcadia and march during the kiddie parade in our costumes. Maybe we should do matching costumes again this year. It could be fun.

Oct 26th, 2013

I feel kinda shitty. 

I have nightmares sometimes- you know the kind. Trapped in your own head, an ache chamber for your worst thoughts? That’s the kind I had last night. I keep seeing Chloe laying on the floor, lifeless, but I couldn’t get to her.

Then I woke up, and Chloe was lying next to me, lifeless. So I freaked out on her and shook her awake. I feel bad for waking her up like that, I should’ve known she was just sleeping, not dead.

I hate nightmares. I hate them. I wish I didn’t have to sleep. Ever.

Oct 27th, 2013

I made a mistake. The police still have Jefferson on trial, they’re building a big case in him or something and me and Chloe are key witnesses. The case is ongoing, and they called my dad instead of me to ask for an interview or something like that. My dad heard from some random cop about how Chloe and I uncovered all that stuff about Jefferson and his Dark Room and found Rachel’s body. 

Now the State wants us in court and I had an actual real argument with my parents. We never argue! Chloe’s even said that she finds it weird how we never talk. (We don’t have family dinners like her parents did. It’s pretty normal for us. Mom makes something and keeps it on the stove, and me as Chloe come down whenever and get something)

BUT ANYWAY my mom got so angry that we didn’t tell her about all this. Even my dad got upset, and he’s never upset. But I just didn’t know how to talk about it. They were mostly upset that we did an illegal investigation and trespassed and did tell them. Chloe was upstairs when this happened because mom wanted to talk to me alone. I think that maybe if she and I hadn’t reunited, I would’ve just taken it and cried later for being yelled at. But instead, something must’ve possessed me because I swear I never yell, but I got overwhelmed and just snapped at them. I’m regretting it now. 

I don’t totally remember what I said- it was a few hours ago- but basically I was all like “leave me alone! I didn’t want to have to do it! I don’t want to think about it!!!” I probably sounded hysteric because they told me to go to my room and said they’d call me down later once I’ve calmed down to talk about it again and they haven’t called me down. Chloe and I are just sitting here. This is awful. I feel terrible. My nerves are everywhere. 

Chloe seems oddly proud of me though. Like supportive, I mean. I think she’s just glad to see me stand up for myself. I’m glad to not be alone.

I feel so guilty. My parents were on the phone all day with the court trying to get me and Chloe down to city hall for a hearing that’s in a week or so, but they don’t want me to go there. And I don’t want to go there either. Me and Chloe are key witnesses, so it looks like they won’t be giving up. But basically I’ve put my parents through justice system hell all day. 

I’m a little torn. I want Jefferson to rot in jail, so I should testify. But I don’t actually want to see him again. I’ve been trying so hard not to think about him and everything that may or may not have happened in that room. How can I swear to tell the truth? No one would believe me. There’s no evidence that I was ever a victim of the Dark Room. 

Chloe said that I don’t need to say that part when being questioned, but isn’t a lie by omission still a lie? I don’t want to lie under oath! And besides, maybe they don’t want me in the actual courtroom. Maybe I’m blowing this out of proportion? I just feel paranoid about being in a room with him again, even though I know nothing could really happen. I keep overthinking it. I don’t know what I want the outcome to be.

Oct 31st, 2013

This may be the worst Halloween I’ve ever had. Eventually, Chloe and I decided not to do anything for the Holiday, so we just stayed inside and watched movies. 

Just a quick update; my parents feel hostile. I know they’re still upset, but we aren’t talking about it. Not that we ever do, but I hate the atmosphere it makes. The court is still in contact with them, but it looks like Chloe and I will be able to meet with a court official for a statement and have to testify during the hearing, which is going to be stressing me out until it happens.

But anyway- we were watching Mama Mia late at night and we got to talking about past Halloweens we spent together. We talked about the Bazaar and the kiddie parade, and what our favorite costumes were (the chipwich can’t be beat, let’s be real). 

And we got to talking about how William would always dress up with us, and how much more fun he made everything when we were young. The grief I feel over him feels new, even though it’s very old. It’s been reopened for me, and I never really grieved in the first place anyway. Chloe felt so at ease talking about him. And even then, I can tell how much she loved him, how much she still misses him, just from her voice.

Then we talked about how Joyce made his costume for the year we went as the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe. 

Then we just started talking about Joyce. All the little things she used to do for us- make extra pancake batter for when I was sleeping over because she knew I liked them, reserve a booth at the Two Whales for us when she knew we’d drop by, keep spare change in her pockets for when she knew we’d want to use the jukebox, stuff like that. 

Chloe admitted that her mom wasn’t on the survivor’s list. Max still hasn’t looked at it yet. She said she wasn’t sure what to do or how to feel about Joyce being gone. She’s upset she “let” her mom leave for work like that, the way she “let” her dad go to the store that day five years ago. She’s angry too, but she’s not sure at who. 

I wish there was more that I could do for her. I wish I would warp time until all the people she’s lost were standing with us now. I know why I can’t. I know now that the very best thing I can do right now is be there with her and listen. Still, it tears me apart seeing her so messed up about this. 

Sometimes I wonder when we’ll be okay… or if we ever will be…

Nov 3rd, 2013

Mom dragged me and Chloe out to the supermarket with her today. She said we needed to stop “moping around” and get out of the house. That’s something I’d normally roll my eyes at (inside my head, of course, that’s one way to piss off my mother), but she may have ended up having a point.

At first, being around so many people was overwhelming. But then we snuck away and Chloe pushed me around on one of the shopping carts and the world dissolved until it was just the two of us. How does she always know when I need cheering up?

[There is a drawing of the events]

My mom kinda ruined the mood by bringing up school again. I really hope this fizzles out, I don’t want to go back there. Especially since Chloe can’t be there with me. 

Nov 5th, 2013

Kate called me today. I almost didn’t answer. I was so startled by it. I probably would’ve overthought it and stayed completely frozen in inaction if Chloe hadn’t been there in the room with me when it rang.

She shook me out of it, convincing me to pick up and eventually I did, at the last second. I’m so glad I did, though. I panicked at first, but Kate sounded so happy to hear me. She said she’s been in Arcadia all this time with her family. She was in the hospital during the storm and it hadn’t reached her or Victoria. She talked about how Victoria’s parents were coming down from Washington when the storm hit and almost got caught in the storm. Apparently she stayed at the hospital for a while and is now back in Washington.

According to Kate, Victoria was super un-Victoria like while she was in the hospital. Meaning- not mean at all. Kate said she was acting very out of it, almost hysteric. Very emotional. She’d apologized to Kate, but Kate sensed it was out of fear rather than sorrow, but it was regret all the same and Kate had forgiven her, because it was Kate and of course she did.

Kate was at a soup kitchen when Max called. She talked about how few people were in Arcadia now, and how many paramedics and first aid responders there were. They were all… how did she word it? Community-ish. Banded together. Having open soup kitchens and makeshift residents.

Kate didn’t try to make me feel bad for ditching town, she was actually very understanding and sweet about it. That didn’t surprise me. I did still feel guilty. 

The call was on speaker, so Chloe was talking too. Kate brought the phone to- get this- Alyssa, who was eating lunch there. From my brief time in the storm trying to reach the Two Whales, I’d assumed that Alyssa must not have made it because of how I’d saved her from the top of that building. I don’t know how my time warping changed that event or what led to it, but Alyssa must not have been there that day. I’m glad.

Despite all of it, Kate sounds like she’s been doing well. I hope I sounded that way too. I guess it’s hard to tell when it’s your own voice. Hearing about what’s going on in Arcadia only made me feel guiltier. No one but Chloe knows that I caused all this. I felt so fake talking to her, like I was lying. I guess I technically was.

Would she and Alyssa hate me if they knew the truth? I’m almost dying to know. Almost. The other part of me is glad no one can know. I hate it when people don’t like me. I dunno, it’s confusing. I guess mostly I’m just glad the two of them- and Victoria- are okay.

Nov 8th, 2013

My parents have made up their mind, apparently. They want me to go back at my old school to finish up senior year. I tried to fight them on it- which I never do, by the way- but it’s pretty clear that it’s not a request. 

To say I’m a little freaked out is an understatement. My old high school was so big, and so overwhelming. I barely knew anyone there. Plus, it’s two months into the school year already, I’ll have so much make-up work to do. 

But none of those are good enough excuses. I’m starting next week. 

Chloe’s been doing her best to keep me in high spirits and staying positive (a task for god himself, maybe). She said this is a good excuse to go back-to-school shopping, since we have maybe six shirts between the two of us and half of them are my mom’s. She says she’s been meaning to go explore Seattle, anyway. When she mentioned that, I felt shitty for not offering to show her around sooner. But we’re making plans, so…

Nov 9th, 2013

I like being spontaneous! You wouldn’t think so because I have horrible anxiety and I'm the kind of neurodivergent that hates change, but there’s something about doing something batshit crazy when Chloe’s leading the charge. 

To start from the beginning, we’d made plans for today, which is a nice change considering we’ve been hiding out in my room for the past month. That’s mostly my fault, I guess. 

We were going to go “back to school shopping”, which is a great excuse to introduce Chloe to the handful of thrift shops I usually frequent. We had a limited budget, since I don’t have a job right now, but I still wanted to look around and try stuff on.

Chloe really isn’t used to city living yet. She almost walked headlong into traffic several times. I had to grab her by the arm to stop her, she doesn’t really understand how little people in Seattle give a shit. She’s such a small town girl.

I guess I was the same way when I moved here.

Chloe’s been thrifting before, so she kinda knew her way around the places I brought her. Of course, she drove, but I directed us there. 

Chloe says she hates Seattle parking. Lots of curbside parking and meters, but that’s cities for you. 

We walked from store to store, just because Chloe didn’t want to park again. I accidentally talked way too much about pigeons- aka the best thing about Seattle- but Chloe didn’t seem to mind. 

[a paragraph of redacted information on pigeons that Max seemed to have gone in after this event and taken out, likely embarrassed to have lost focus].

Anyway, today reminded me of the way I felt wearing Rachel’s clothes back in Chloe’s room. I think this is the first time I’ve thought about that day- or that week, really, without feeling guilty. Chloe pushed me out of my comfort zone, and I tried on a lot of clothes in a lot of styles that I wouldn’t have normally. It’s so cool to try on stuff, to try and figure out what suits me. 

We didn't end up buying a whole lot of shit, we’re on a budget, but through trial and error, I figured out that I like wearing graphic tees that are too big for me, and big baggy jeans. Maybe I’ve just gotten too used to wearing too-big clothes since I came back to Seattle, but I really like it. It’s comfortable, and Chloe agrees it’s a distinct style. And- I felt stupid saying it, but- I feel like me dressed like this. I don’t know the last time I’ve ever said that. Or written it, anyway. Haha.

We only ended up getting a few things, enough to make up some kind of wardrobe for both myself and Chloe. I’m glad that she sounded proud when she saw what I’d picked out. I swear I’m not doing this for her approval, but it definitely doesn’t hurt.

We were supposed to go home right after, but obviously, Chloe had other ideas. We drove around until we found an empty lot near the edge of the city, miles away from our house. It was getting dark and I didn’t really know where we were. At the time I’d thought maybe Chloe had wanted to get me away from people. She’d probably noticed that it’s more exhausting than it was before to be in public. 

I don’t know what my deal is, but I’m paranoid about the mere presence of other human beings around me. Like I think someone will pull a gun on me if I’m not wary enough. I’m hyper aware of everyone around me at all times, over thinking every move I make, every word I say to others, and I can’t turn it off. The second I’m alone again, I think how stupid it is. But in the moment, I’m more scared than the situation warrants that something will happen to me. Or Chloe. 

But that wasn’t it. Chloe said that she wanted to get me aquatinted with her truck. You heard me right. Me. Driving this monster. Correctly, I called her insane, but Chloe doesn’t give up that easily.

She pointed out that she’s living with me now, and it’s a good idea to learn how to drive the truck just in case Chloe can’t. She’s not my shofer. Or however that’s spelt. 

She had a good point, and I caved. I wasn’t even sure we were allowed to be here, but I think that was half the point of it. That nagging fear that we could get caught kept my heart pounding the whole time. But, like... in a good way? If that’s even possible??

I’m already not the best at driving, but Chloe’s car is a gear shift. I’ve never even attempted driving this kind of car. We went in circles around the lot for hours, Chloe’s hand over mine on the gearshift in case I messed up. I didn’t crash into anything, in case you were wondering. Not even her hand over mine made me a road hazard.

I keep thinking about it. I know it should be the last thing in my mind, but I can’t keep myself from drifting back to how I feel about Chloe, over and over again. It’s such a warm and comforting feeling, and I hate to say it but I don’t get those often anymore.

Would Chloe think the way I feel is weird? We never keep anything from each other, but is revealing that a pillar of the foundation of our friendship is built upon underlaying romantic tension that I’m aware exists at least on my end a bit too much? I don’t want to ruin anything. 

Our friendship had gone through higher hurdles. I don’t think anything would make Chloe not want to be around me, but at the same time… I don’t know. I guess I still feel weird about it.

Maybe some day.

Nov 11th, 2013

I can't eat or sleep, I’ve been so overwhelmed thinking about today. And guess what? It was worse than I thought! And I’d thought of everything. It. Sucked.

Let me start by saying that no one remembered me. The teacher thought I was a new student. I had her freshman year!! Thanks Mrs. Howerson. That’s a real confidence booster.

That hyper awareness of everyone around me didn’t disappear, either. It was hard to pay attention when you were spreading your attention to everyone in the classroom instead of just the teacher. 

I haven’t been in a classroom setting since Blackwell, so needless to say, I was double stressed out. I had to talk to all my teachers one on one to receive the work I’d missed during the year so far. I tried not to linger. 

I know most of these teachers, some of them are real asshats but none of them have ever been threatening before. 

But neither had Jefferson. I can't help being on edge.

I have so much work. I’m taking Art III, American History II, Chemistry II, Speech and debate (kill me. Just kill me), and Honors Algebra III, because they were the only classes available that I could take and graduate on time with the right amount of credits. There’s a lot of work that I’ve missed. How can any one person get all this done? I feel so shitty for leaving Chloe alone all day. I’m so tired.

Nov 13th, 2013

Chloe offered to help me out when it came to my Math and Chem homework. Normally I’d say that’s a violation of academic integrity, but it’s not too far from when we used to help each other out with homework when we were kids, plus I’m too stressed and tired to disagree. Thank god for Chloe.

Nov 14, 2013

When I came back to school, Speech and Debate was in the middle of a project and we were meant to present today. I barely had my shit together at the start of class, but I did have my speech done and somewhat memorized, I had cue words written down on a notecard that was supposed to get me through it. 

But when it was my turn, I totally blanked. I didn’t remember my speech, I didn’t even remember what the assignment was. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember anything. I got dizzy and my heart was beating so fast. I must’ve asked to go to the nurse because I ended up in her office. She told me to just lay on my back for a while, I wasn’t “bad enough” to get sent home. 

What was that…?

Could it have been some repercussion of my rewind? But I haven’t been using it. Maybe I deserve this somehow…

Nov 15th, 2013

Never in my life have I been so relieved for the weekend. That attack from yesterday happened when I was trying to fall asleep last night. It’s like some dark spot formed in my head. I forgot certain things, like what grade level I was in, or certain things about my childhood. I got this floaty feeling this time, and my fingertips went numb. Nothing felt real, like I was dreaming, but I knew I was awake. It was terrifying. 

I decided not to tell anyone. Maybe this is my power at work again? Trying to scrub me from the universe? I don’t want to disappear…

Nov 16th, 2013

Today is the day Chloe and I are supposed to give statements to the police about Jefferson. I’ve been trying not to think about it. My parents are driving us to wherever the fuck the court house is in Oregon to give a statement. Yes, Chloe and I are key witnesses, but apparently there’s an act of some kind in Oregon where you can plead, like, trauma to the court. Like if the guy on trial is your tormentor you don’t have to show, you can just give a statement during the trial and leave.

Well thank god for that. I’m not looking forward to it.

Today was So Much. First, we showed up and my parent’s lawyer met us in the gigantic hallway and talked for five minutes but I took nothing in. I was kind of shaking. I think Chloe could tell. She held my arm. It was helpful. Chloe was always very grounding. 

If I’m being honest, I don’t remember too much else. She stood outside the courtroom and I could hear people talking inside. Then someone peaked their head in and told us to come in. Our lawyer told me to chill out, all I had to do was answer a few questions and I would be fine.

I went first, and I stood up by the judge and I could see him in the audience. He was dressed more casual than I’d seen him before, which is weird because he’s usually in suites. 

They asked me a few things, and I felt icy steel crawl in my lungs, it made me feel like that same day when I’d escaped that room, when I’d dig my way out of hell and made it back to Chloe.

I can't totally remember what they asked. They asked “is it true that” a lot, and it was mostly “yes” answers. It wasn’t like Law and Order at all, and Jefferson didn’t say anything. Which was good. I didn’t ever want to hear his voice again.

Chloe went after me, they asked her similar questions. Then we were escorted out and the two lawyers started talking about something else.

We’re driving back now, and my hands won’t stop shaking, so I’m sorry for the shitty handwriting. I can't tell if we were winning the case or not, but I really hope we are. I hope he rots in hell.

Nov 18th, 2013

Call me Garfield because I am beginning to hate Mondays. I’ve started to notice that while I still struggle to sleep, Chloe’s been sleeping a lot lately. It’s like she’s been on this survival mode for years, and now that she’s finally out of that situation, she’s completely exhausted all the time. 

I don’t blame her. I’m tired too. I just can’t seem to relax like she can…

Nov 20th, 2013

I’m working more than I’m living. Every breathing second that I’m not in school, I’m trying to do homework and catch up work. Deadlines are closing in, and I don’t understand a thing we’ve learned in Math this year. 

I’m trying not to freak out, but that’s a hard sell. Being at school is so exhausting, and I can’t get myself to stop being on such high alert all the time. This is all so much. Not to mention my parents who have been updated on the court hearing. It hasn’t been resolved just yet, apparently. 

Kate is still trying to keep in touch with me, bless her heart, and told me that Victoria had testified too. She says according to her, our outlook to getting Jefferson locked up is pretty good. I hope so. 

Why can’t I remember that day? There’s like this dark spot over it, like that day in speech and debate. Is this a bigger problem than I’ve been led to believe? I hope this isn’t dimensional hopping time travel stupidity acting up and ruining my life. I haven’t used my powers since that week, I should be out of the clear now.

So why aren’t I?

Nov 21st, 2013

I had another nightmare about Chloe, but I didn’t try and shake her awake like a crazy person when I woke up this time. I just watched her sleep, watched her breathe, so I knew she was alive. 

Maybe it’s weird to watch someone sleep, but I think it’s better than waking them up.

Nov 23rd, 2013

Okay so I don’t blame you for not knowing this because I was way too tired to write anything down but two days ago I was in class and when I got home I realized that I’d spaced out for an entire class period and couldn’t remember the entire school day. I’d spent it in a blind haze, and I was terrified because these episodes of… whatever they were… were getting worse. 

When I got home I told Chloe about it- who I accidentally woke up. She’s been sleeping a lot lately. 

Anyway, she wasn’t mad that I hadn’t told her before. In fact, Chloe revealed that she’s been hiding stuff too, but only because she saw me struggling and didn’t want to make me worry, which is sweet, but dumb. Because why wouldn’t I want to know?

Aaaaanyway, she said that she was expecting to feel so much more angry at it all, but she feels like her brain is shutting down. She’s tired all the time, and she feels guilty with how much more relaxed she is now than before, in Arcadia. She feels bad for feeling better. 

I know that’s mostly my fault. Chloe feels a sense of survivor's guilt over having lived where others didn’t. But I’m the one who chose that, not Chloe. In the end, I didn’t consider this- how she might feel this way. 

I told her not to feel guilty, I was the one who chose this, but I didn’t expect that to make that feeling disappear. I know better than anyone that that’s not how it works. Guilt can be so suffocating, I hate it. Feels like I’m drowning, sometimes. 

I try not to think about Arcadia when I can. I know that my avoidance isn’t helping Chloe, who likes to talk about the stuff that bothers her. So I listened, even if it made me feel guilty. I want to be there for her.

Anyway, we ended up holding onto one another to go to sleep that night. I didn’t think anything of it- why would I? We used to do it a lot as kids. But then, as I was trying to fall asleep last night, Chloe put her arms around my waist, attempting to initiate what we were doing the day before. 

Of course, I let it happen, I didn’t mind at all. But I was a little thrown by it. Sure, we did it all the time as kids, but we were kids then. Now that we’re adults, that kind of thing means something totally different.

Chloe isn’t dumb, I’m sure she knows that. The question is, why would she do it if she knew that? Maybe I’m thinking about it too much, but… I dunno. I might be hoping for too much.

But then again, the idea that Chloe likes me isn’t too far fetched. We were always closer than normal best friends, and that wasn’t just on my end. 

Even if she did, neither of us are ready to address something so big. I’ve decided to wait it out. Chloe’s not going anywhere, and she knows that I’m not either.

Nov 25th, 2013

Max doesn’t remember when she started to feel herself floating away. She was in class- or had been, at least. At one point. It was supposed to be chemistry. She sat near the back now, because then she would be able to work by herself. 

Her teacher, Mrs. Mulberry, handed out a packet for them to complete over the weekend. Then Max had gone back to her agenda to try and figure out when she’d be able to do this on top of all the work she had already. 

She still had three more worksheets to finish for Math, then a video and questions to answer to American History, a research paper for Speech and Debate- alongside the actual research packet for that paper, and the required reading she hadn’t been able to catch up on yet, and now this packet alongside two labs for Chemistry she hasn’t finished. 

She wrote and scratched out assignments to try and figure out when she’d have time for what, but she didn’t remember when the words on the page started to look… foggy? Then the pencil in her hand didn’t feel like a pencil, the metal desk didn’t feel like metal. Nothing had texture, the pressure of the metal stool under her didn’t hurt anymore. Why couldn’t she feel anything the way it was meant to be felt?

She was so overwhelmed by all the work she had to get done, and then there was no pressure. Like something inside of her snapped, and Max was but simply an onlooker to her own problems. 

Then people started moving around her. The bell must have rang. How did Max not hear it? The bell was so loud at this school. Max didn’t make herself get up, she just did. Without thinking. Then she was in the hallway. Her school had over three thousand students in attendance every day. The hallways were loud and packed and everyone was moving. 

Max couldn’t pick a single face out in the crowd. They all looked the same, they all had the same volume of voice and so Max couldn’t hear any one person over anyone else. Everyone was streaks of colors blurring past her. She knew they were all real, but in that moment, everyone around her felt fake. And Max felt fake too. Like she was made of plaster, a plastic Barbie doll standing lifelessly in the hallway.

She didn’t remember what her next class was. She could remember what grade she was in. She remembered her school and every bit of work she had to get done this weekend. Oh god. Would she get expelled if she couldn’t finish it all on time?

Max had no idea where she was supposed to be, what she was supposed to be doing. It’s never been this bad. She was stressed about her work, but it felt like phantom’s anxiety. Like she was watching herself get stressed out. She wandered the halls, bumping into people by accident. Why couldn’t she feel the shoving? Then she stumbled into a bathroom, clumsy and uncoordinated. Why was this so hard all of a sudden? 

Her thoughts weren’t cluttered like they were when she was anxious- rather, they were just unconnected. Thoughts are supposed to be on a train, traveling from one place to another. Max’s thoughts existed as a single stop, the racks derailed and broken. She couldn’t travel anywhere. She couldn’t think at all. All she could do was sit down on the floor in a stall, back against the stall wall, and wait for her senses to return.

But they didn’t. Max lost track of time, growing more and more afraid. It had never lasted this long before. no matter how long she sat there, no new thoughts or ideas came to her. She began to panic, which only made everything she was feeling worse. The heightened sense of paranoid fed into the floating sensation. A separation of her mind and body. She watched herself heave and start to cry, rocking on the bathroom floor. Why couldn't she feel? Why couldn’t she breathe? Why was she so dizzy? She wasn’t even moving. How long had she been here?

“Um, hello?”

The voice barely cut through the fog in her mind and vision. There was a person Max did not recognize standing before her, at the entrance of the stall. His face and body blurred for her. Max didn’t know why she was suffering from such insane face blindness right now, but it was almost like she couldn’t see him. He was probably a boy, though.

“Are you okay?”

Max tried to squint. He must be referring to her crying. “Uh.” She replied blankly. 

“You’re not hurt or anything, are you?” He asked again, entering the stall with her.

It was weird, but having someone address her directly made her focus on reality better. 

“No.”

“Are you getting picked on, or-?”

“No, nothing like that.”

The boy stood there a moment. “Uh, sorry to bother you then…”

“No, it’s fine.” Her voice wasn’t shaking. At least, she’s pretty sure it wasn’t. But her face was tear stained.

“Got to say, I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” He continued, sitting down across from her, back against the other wall.

“I’m not new.” Said Max. “I’ve always gone here.” Right? Why can’t she remember her grade level…?

“Oh, really?” He asked. Why can’t she make out his face clearly? “Did you ever attend any of the plays here?”

“No.” Max can remember that clearly. “I never had anyone to go with, and it intimidated me too much to go alone.”

“Well you should’ve.” He said. “I’m always in the plays. It would’ve been cool to see a new face there. What grade are you?”

“I… I don’t know…” she said.

“You don’t know?”

“I can’t remember.” Said Max. “I don’t know why I can’t remember. I usually can.”

“Oh god, that doesn’t sound great.” He replied. “Can you- do you need to go to the nurse? Did you hit your head or something?”

Max shook her head. “I don’t know.” She replied. “What bathroom are we in? I sort of just stumbled in here blindly.”

“Uh, we’re in the second floor boys’ bathroom.”

“I’m in the boys bathroom?!” That shocked Max into some sense. Why the fuck had she gone in there?!

“Yep.” Said the boy. “No one ever comes in here because at the beginning of the year, some dude took a massive shit and flooded the entire floor with it. They cleaned it up and everything, but it still smells kinda nasty, so everyone just calls it the shit-stain bathroom now.”

Max blanked. Did she already know that? “Oh my god.”

“Hey hey, don’t start crying again!” The boy said quickly. “It's- all that means is that it’s quiet here now. I come here all the time! It doesn’t even smell that bad, but, you know high school. You do one bad thing and that’s all everyone knows you for. And that obviously includes bathrooms.”

Max hadn’t noticed herself begin to cry. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” He asked again. “You don’t look okay. Is there anyone you can call?”

Max had to think for a moment. Was there? “I can’t call my parents.” She decided. “There’s someone else…” she couldn’t remember.

“What happened? Did anything happen to make you forget stuff?” He continued to ask. “You said it doesn’t happen often.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Said Max. “It’s happened a couple times this week. But I’m fine. I think I’ll be fine, I mean. I don’t know why this is happening. I was just trying to organize all the work I had this weekend and… I guess I got overwhelmed.”

Max noticed that the boy had blonde hair, and was bigger than her, but she remained face blind. “Are you part of the tutor system?”

“The what?”

She could see the boy smile. “Oh man, you didn’t know? There’s a system through the school where you can get assigned a part time student tutor to help you with your homework during the afternoons, after school lets out.” He explained. “You should totally sign up. I’m a tutor, so make sure you come Wednesdays and Fridays, cause that’s when I work.”

Max blinked, trying to process what she was being told. “… Tutor?”

“… Yeah.” He said. “I think you should head down to the nurse or… or call your parents.”

“Maybe you’re right…” Max opened her phone, and saw someone on the phone’s lockscreen. Blue hair engulfed her vision and she remembered- Chloe. Chloe was living at her house now. Oh Jesus fuck- it had gotten so bad she’s forgotten about Chloe?!

She opened her messages. The worlds on the screen were less foggy than before, and she was able to type a sentence in there. 

[Max]

Can you pick me up? There’s something wrong

The reply was instant.

[Chloe]

Fuck don’t move im omw 

Max sighed. Something in her relaxed, if only imperceptibly. Chloe would be here soon. Seeing her face was exactly what she needed. But it scared her to think she’d forgotten Chloe- if only momentarily. 

“Someone coming to pick you up?” The boy asked.

“Yeah.” Max replied. “Uh, thank you.”

“Lawrence.” He said. 

“Max.” Max introduced. 

She could see more of his face. He looked friendly. His eyes were blue. “Okay, make sure you get home safe. And remember; tutoring. Wednesday and Friday. Be there. I like getting to know new people.”

She smiled back, but something about the way he spoke- a little pushy, a little too honest and eager- reminded Max of Warren, inexplicably. “Uh, Lawrence,” she broached. “Just so I don’t misunderstand anything- I’m really bad at reading social cues sometimes so I just want it to be perfectly clear- but are you….? Um, are you, uh, trying to…”

Lawrence’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh- no!” He answered quickly. “No, no, that’s not… uh…”

“Sorry.” Max answered quickly, relief flowing through her. “Good, I mean. I’m just not good at-“

“No, I get it.” Lawrence replied just  as fast. “Bad experiences with boys, huh?”

“Yeah…”

“Been there.” He continued. “But seriously, you don’t gotta worry. I don’t even-… uh, I don’t… I’m gay.”

Max smiled, inexplicably, her face feeling plastic and fake. “Cool.” She said lamely. 

He laughed, then Max laughed too. He lifted himself back up to stand. “See you around, Max.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

The tiles on the bathroom had a weird pattern. Most of them were white, but every once in a while, one would be dark blue. Max tried to count as many dark blue ones as she could, but it was difficult to hold tally in her brain. She repeated the boy’s name over and over; Lawrence. Had she just made a friend? At this school? That felt unreal. Everything around her felt unreal, like she was watching her life speed by from inside a moving car.

Chloe texted her; I’m outside! Max lifted herself uneasily to her feet to go. Was the school day over? It was one o’clock, so not yet. Max didn’t care. She walked down the staircase, slowly, like she was afraid she would fall. She walked down the hallways, no one stopped her. Once she got outside, she heard Chloe’s truck’s horn. 

Her school was a very big building, but it didn’t have a yard like Blackwell did. It had a concrete area outside it. Park benches and a few trees around the entrance. Then there was a lot of steps down and the Main Street was just on the sidewall at the bottom of them. That’s where Chloe was parked, against the curb. Max was glad she even recognized the car.

It felt impossible that Chloe was here, that she’d gotten here so quickly. Max opened the side door and jumped inside, throwing her backpack down on the floor.

“Max, god,”

Chloe slid to sit directly at her side, and threw her arms around her, holding her tight to her chest. Max didn’t react quickly. She didn’t feel the touch to recognize it as that, but what she did feel was the pressure. That was very grounding. It was like being under a weighted blanket, someone was squishing her mind back into her body. Max leaned forward, into the embrace, trying to get even more of than sensation.

Chloe was here now. And that’s one of the things Max had become so accustomed to, Chloe was always here. Just like when they were kids- having sleepovers every other night, walking to school together, talking on their parents phones, they were always together, Chloe was always here. Max forgot how much she missed that feeling of consistency. 

“Fuck, is it happening again?” She asked. “The thing from the other night? You looked so out of it. This helped last time. Is it helping now? Max?”

Max nodded. 

“Thank god. You fucking scared me.” Chloe sighed. “You’re parents are pissed by the way. But it’s not like they can stop me leaving the house.”

“I don’t want to go home.” Max realized. “Can we just stay here?”

“Well, no, because we’re blocking the road, but we can park somewhere.”

“Let’s do that.”

Chloe pulled them apart, regrettably, but Max was able to catch sight of blue hair. How could Max have forgotten Chloe? The fear from that implication felt even more real now. Something was beyond wrong, and it was really starting to scare her.

Chloe put her hands back on the wheel and pulled into drive, merging back into the road, and taking them out of there.

Nov 26th, 2013

Chloe thinks we should tell my parents about whatever’s going on, because it keeps happening and she’s worried it could get worse. I get why she’s worried- I am too. But I still don’t want to have to rely on them. We can figure this out ourselves. 

I’ve decided to take Lawrence up on his offer. The only acquaintances I’ve made in this school have been through the photography club- which I am no longer part of. And I’ve tried to start up conversations with a few of the people I’ve met there since coming back- but none of them remembered my name. Kristen remembered me a little, but she didn’t remember my name either, just my face. I guess I wasn’t very memorable during high school. Am I memorable now?

But Lawrence seems nice. And I definitely need more help on my homework. 

I think that when I get overly stressed about my homework, it reminds me of the insane life threatening stress I’d felt… that day. You know the one. So I think getting a better handle on my work will improve my situation overall. I totally know what I’m doing!

Nov 27th, 2013

Tutoring is much less anxiety inducing than I originally thought it would be. Before this week, I had no idea we even had tutors here. 

But I’m glad I went. Lawrence is nice, and I think we’re officially friends now, which is cool. With luck, I might actually finish this course load!

Dec 1st, 2013

I don’t remember yesterday, but allegedly, this is what happened. 

I was late to turn in that stupid chemestry packet, right? So my teacher asked me to stay after class to talk to her about it. She told my parents later that she noticed that I’ve been acting “off” in class and planned to talk to me about that as well, but I refused to stay alone with her. I must’ve really freaked out on her, and I can guess why. 

Gee Max, why would you freak out at the prospect of being alone with one of your teachers?

Anyway, I was sent to the office and my parents were called in and I had to go home. So now my parents know about the Thing! So that’s cool. Chloe had to explain it last night because apparently I was just That out of it. Only, I don’t remember it at all. 

I know it’s getting worse and not better, only I don’t know what happening and I don’t know how to stop it. Chloe says my parents were more freaked out than angry, but it’s been a whole day, maybe they’re more angry now. I only just woke up, but I’ll have to face them eventually. I’m a little terrified. 

Could this be a result of everything from that week catching up with me? How do I know I’m not using my powers? Can I use them on accident? I wish I could know for sure. I hate that I can’t trust myself. 

Wow that went so much worse than expected!!! I wish I was dead!! 

Clearly I haven’t totally settled back since yesterday. I could feel that this morning, everything still feels a little “off”. One of the things that is always consistent when I feel this way is the feeling that the people around me aren’t a real and therefore what I do doesn't matter. Clearly, I need to spend a little more time ruminating on one of the few lessons I learned thanks to my rewind: “my actions matter always!”

But anyway, because of that, it felt so not important to hold my tongue when talking to my parents. Usually when I talk to them, it’s them doing the talking, and it’s always to inform me of something. It’s not… like… a two way conversation. They’re telling me how it’s gonna be. End of story. I hate sticking up for myself with them, it’s so awkward! Plus, they do usually tend to know better, so I usually just sit there and take it.

But because it felt like my parents weren’t real, in a sense, when they sat me down, it felt like nothing I did mattered too much. 

They began by telling me that I can’t keep things like this from them, it couldn’t be serious. They kept saying that they don’t know what’s going on with me lately, that I haven’t been talking to them and they don’t know why. And it just pissed me off, y’know? Like, what do you mean you don’t know why I can’t talk to you?! Like, you were the ones that created this environment where it was normal to not talk about stuff like this!!

Then they were like; “do you really feel like you can’t talk to us?” And I was like “shit, it would be weird to start now!!” And they did not like that, so I was sent back up to my room so they could deliberate. 

I totally didn’t freak out once realizing that I’d totally fucked up. Definitely not.

Then, a little while later when I did, admittedly, feel a little more real, they came up to my room and sat down with me and Chloe and apologized for not noticing something was up, but then told me that I had to come to them if anything was up- they didn’t apologize for creating the environment in the first place. Which was a little annoying, but it would have sounded redundant if they did, so whatever.

Then they offered to let me go back to therapy, and to pay for Chloe’s therapy since she’s on all our insurance and medical plan and stuff. I wasn’t expecting them to extend that offer to Chloe. It felt like a peace offering, and I took it for Chloe’s sake. But I made sure that we do NOT go back to Angela, because she wasn’t helpful at all.

So I guess it went okay? My parents will probably be super weird around me for a while but hopefully they eventually forget this happened. They probably will soon enough, they always do.

Dec 2nd, 2013

Back to the grind! You’ll never guess what Mrs. Mulberry did today. She pulled me aside, while there were still students in the class, and asked if I’d ever had a negative experience with a teacher before. I know what she was insinuating. How did she figure that out? Maybe all teachers are this intuitive. 

I had to lie and say no. I hate that I literally can’t tell anyone about Mr. Jefferson. But all of his crimes are legally documented, there is zero evidence that he did anything to me because he literally didn’t do anything in this reality. If the both of us were to go on lie detectors and told the truth, we’d be contradicting each other. No one would believe me.

I’m glad, at least, that Chloe knows. I don’t feel totally alone so long as she’s here.

Dec 6th, 2013

I’m almost done with my catch up work. But now I’ve got a shit ton of overdue stuff to finish. Lawrence invited me to hang out with him, his brother, and a few friends this weekend. I could really use that time to finish my work, but… I really do need to get out of the house. And so did Chloe.

I agreed, but asked if I could bring Chloe along. I assured him that she was super cool. I think he believed me. I hope Chloe’s as excited as I am!

Dec 7th, 2013

Lawrence’s friends are really cool! He’s the only one in theater, but the rest of them all go to my school. I’ve never run into them before. I hate how big that stupid place is. 

His brother’s name is Zack, and he’s a little pretentious but all around pretty chill. The other four people are in a band. Isn’t that cool?

Tammi’s on vocals, Dwight is lead guitar, Dex on keyboards, and Pixie’s on drums, and their lead songwriter. They have their own music! Although, their band doesn’t have a name yet. 

They absorbed Chloe. I was almost starting to worry that I wouldn’t get my best friend back at the end of the day. No but seriously, all of Lawrence’s friends had their own unique sense of style, and sense of piercings. Looking at the sides of Dex’s face where he had those dimple piercings made my face hurt. No judgement, obviously! I did actually think they were really cool. These were exactly the kind of people I picture Chloe handing out with, but not so much myself.

But they were all really nice, and went out of their way to try and include me. I do this this thing when interacting with new people where I overthink everything and kinda shrink on myself. I’m just afraid of leaving a bad first impression. I hate it when [redacted] 

You know what? I don’t even know how to explain it. I hate it when. Yes.

You know what I also hate? I hate the fact that everyone was so nice to me, but I still felt on edge the whole evening. Like people were watching me, or that they might have bad intentions or motivations. It’s so stupid thinking about it now, but as it was happening, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of all the bad things that could happen to me, over and over, almost intrusively. I like to think that I’m just being safe, but it’s beyond that now. I’m paranoid. It’s exhausting. 

Anyway, they didn’t think I was weird for being super quiet and nervous the whole evening. We met up at this place called “The Beanbarn”, which is a very hipster locally owned cafe and bar which is run my Tammi’s mom. Tammi, her mom, and Dex who is kind of couch during right now, live in the studio apartment above the joint, and their band gets to perform on the little stage setup at the cafe on Friday nights, so the four of them are always here. 

It was a really homey place, and it had great coffee, I get why they like it here. 

Lawrence has known Dwight since middle school and was involved with the process of forming the band. His brother Zack owns a car and had to drive him here, which is the only reason he’s here at all. He goes to Cornish for performing arts the way Lawrence plans to, which is cool. Maybe I’ll go there one day too.

Keep dreaming Max, art school is expensive. 

After the meal, Lawrence added our numbers to their group chat, so it looks like we’ve been absorbed into their friend group. I’ve never had a friend group before. I hope I don’t get totally forgotten about, like the photography club. 

Lawrence texted me personally to ask if Chloe and I were dating. It’s kinda funny, I called her my friend when I introduced her. When asked, we talked about how we met in childhood and reconnected recently, and how we live together now. Lawrence said that the others speculated on it after we left. 

Do we come off that way? I’ve never been particularly good at hiding how I feel aside from completely shutting down, so I see why it could be obvious how I feel, even if I have no idea what my tells are. But does it look like Chloe is in love with me to an outsider? Chloe’s pretty bad at hiding her feelings too. I know damn well what that leans to. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but it’s a nice thought.

Anyway, I told him no, but it was funny he asked.

Dec 10th, 2013

Kate called again. It’s so sweet that she keeps reaching out. I wish I wasn’t barely surviving. Then maybe I could put that same effort into our friendship. 

She’s been doing well, and so has Arcadia, but predictably, I didn’t ask much about the town. 

Kate asked to see some of the pictures I’ve taken recently. That’s when I realized I haven’t really been taking any lately. I hope I haven’t lost my touch. I hope I haven’t lost my fever for imagery the way I’ve lost my live for the rain. Photography used to bring me so much joy, I can’t let Jefferson ruin that for me, can I?

Anyway, I’m glad Kate’s alright.

Dec 12, 2013

My parents took me and Chloe to the mall today to “innocently browse” the electronics and digital cameras. Not at all Christmas related- totally.

I’m a little worried about our spendings. I know I shouldn’t be, but one of the reasons I never asked for a digital camera is because it's really expensive. Plus, I’m not working, and they’ve got another mouth to feed. 

Anyway, as I was looking through some of the cameras and testing them out and actually having a good time, when one of the camera’s shutters made the exact same clock sound that Jefferson’s camera made in that room. 

I do I’m fact remember what happened after that. I freaked out, that’s what happened. It started as a panic attack and Chloe ushered me to one of those angle stall bathrooms so we could be alone, then the thing happened again. 

I stayed like that for a few hours, all the way into we got home, and around dinner I started to feel normal again.

My parents said they’re looking into potential therapists and want to start that as soon as they can. I don’t mean to sound bitter- I’m glad they’re trying to help- but it really makes it feel like they’re trying to make me someone else’s problem. 

I am sorry for worrying Chloe, though. I know I’m causing her a lot of grief. 

Dec 13th, 2013

Cuddling at night has become normal now. Chloe usually initiates it, she’s bolder than me, but I’ve started to do it too. Not sure how we would explain this one to my parents if they were to talk in on us but whatever.

Chloe usually sleeps through the day when I’m at school. She says that slowly, her productivity and will do… do stuff??? has just disappeared. Some days are better than others, but she’s always tried and not sure what she should be doing about it. 

Anyway, when I got home, she wasn’t asleep, she was wide awake sitting on the bed, using my mom’s laptop (because my dad’s is for work and mine is Gone). We talked as I worked, and she mentioned how she’d been thinking all day about how complacent she’s gotten.

I asked what the meant, and she explained how she’d gotten so used to the routine of living with me in Seattle that’s the days are starting to blur together and things have started to lose meaning. 

I asked, but Chloe doesn’t have any idea of how I can help. I’ll keep thinking. I can see her sinking into her depression and I want to help if possible. At least she knows that I’m here for her, whatever she needs, even if it’s just someone to listen.

Dec 15th, 2013

Today was the first day of seeing our new therapist. I know mom has been trying to find one that’s really good, and I definitely appreciate it, even though therapy always feels so awkward. I know it’s supposed to help, but for her to help me I have to be able to actually articulate what’s wrong. And I have enough trouble talking as it is! Add that to half of my trauma being tied to time travel weirdness I can’t tell anyone and I’ve basically jinxed myself.

The therapist was nice, though. Her name was Emily. She said that she doesn’t like seeing clients who know one another because it messes with the advice she gives, but that my mom insisted. Which sounds very her.

Chloe and I agreed beforehand what we can and can’t mention. We can’t mention any of the time travel that I did, we can’t mention how we knew to be at the lighthouse, and we can’t mention my involvement with Jefferson that night.

But even removing that, my life sounds insane. Here’s what I ended up telling her;

• I’ve always struggled with anxiety. 

• The move, and how I never really adjusted to the lack of Chloe and general city living

• The difficulty I have talking to people and articulating myself and making friends

• That Chloe was close with a missing student named Rachel, and while I was at Blackwell, we stumbled upon a link between her disappearance and the roofie-ing of my friend Kate. We led an amiture investigation to find Rachel, which led us to-

• Talking Kate down from a roof,

• Finding the Dark Room and binders of friends and strangers in deeply traumatizing positions,

• And finding Rachel’s body in a junkyard.

• Chloe and I took it to the police, but during the investigation a gigantic storm swept the whole town up and killed almost everyone we knew living there.

• We survived because we happened to be at the lighthouse overpass by circumstance, and had to watch the storm demolish our hometown.

• Since coming back, I’ve been incredibly paranoid about everything all the time. I keep tabs on what everyone is doing around me, and am always worried someone is going to try and hurt me.

• Recently I’ve been getting these episodes where I feel like I'm floating, detached from my body, where I’m watching myself do and feel things. It feels like nothing is real- not myself, not where I am, and not the people around me. During this, I sometimes have black spots over my memory, forgetting certain events of people altogether. It can last a few minutes or an entire day and seems to be getting worse.

• Little things like rain or a camera flash make me freak out.

• I find it hard to sleep because I don’t stop thinking obsessively that someone could be watching me or come to hurt me. 

• I have trouble eating because I get randomly afraid the food is poisoned or spiked and then I get nauseous and can’t put anything in my mouth without gagging. 

• Sometimes I get self conscious and was bullied while at Blackwell.

And that’s not even including all the insane shit I experienced with Mr. Jefferson, or the photo jumps, or almost breaking time and causing the storm!

Dr. Emily was very informal with me and urged me to speak my mind. She asked about my relationship with my parents, which was a weird first question, and I told her it was fine. She asked if we had family meals ever and I said no. She asked if I would ever want that and I said no. She asked why, and I said it would be weird to start now! Plus, I don’t ever have anything to say to them.

She asked about my relationship with Chloe, which I was happy to explain. We’ve known each other since childhood, she knows everything about me and vice versa, I can tell her anything and vice versa, she brings out the best in me, making me a braver person. I feel safe around her. 

Emily said that she’s glad I found someone who I clearly work so well with, but that I shouldn’t rely on her for confidence, and instead “try to find that within yourself”. Which felt stupid because duh, what do you think I was doing for five years in Seattle without her?!

She asked about the storm after that, if I feel any kind of guilt. That was an easy question, because I’ve always struggled with guilt. She asked how so, I said I blame myself for every little mistake I make, no matter how small, and tend to be generally a little too harsh on myself, but I’ve been better at that since reuniting with Chloe.

But answering her question- yes I feel guilt about the storm. I wish I could tell her that it was because I caused it, but alas. I just fibbed and said that I felt like I caused it, and that I could have/ should have done more to warn people.

We talked a lot about guilt and blame and it all boiled down to “there was nothing you could do”. I really wish that were true and I wish I could believe her or Chloe when they say it. 

But Chloe gave me an opt out to stop the storm, but I chose instead to keep her alive. Against her wishes, too. Yeah sure, it may not have worked and just made the storm worse. Maybe. But Chloe and I both felt it- she was meant to die that day in the bathroom and the storm was a cumulative of time trying to right itself. 

The universe had since accepted my changes, and there was no going back now. So I don’t regret my choice, but I do feel guilty about it. 

She talked to me a long while about my paranoia and episodes. I was hoping the whole time that it wasn’t related to my powers and was a real thing that could be treated. 

She asked me a lot of questions like “how often to you feel this way?” “On a scale of one to ten how aware are you of your surroundings at all times?” “Is there any specific trigger for these episodes?” Have you ever felt anything like this before the storm?” “Has your anxiety gotten worse or better since?” Stuff like that. 

I could tell Emily was trying not to push me into talking about the storm or that investigation. She sympathized with me, saying that seeing a dead body must’ve been hard and asking me what I felt about it then verses now. 

She asked about Jefferson and how I felt about him. I tried to keep that brief, I hate thinking about him, I always spiral. 

Before leaving, Emily said that she can’t officially diagnose me as anything after the first session, but that she suspects I have a form of PTSD called “hyper vigilantism” and survivors guilt, and am experiencing “dissociative episodes”. I’ve never heard of most of those terms, but from just the wording it sounds about right. 

I waited outside while it was Chloe’s turn, and I was a bundle of nerves. My mom asked me how it went and if I like her more than Angela. I do like her more than Angela, but it’s hard to say. She was nice, but it still felt hard to really talk about stuff. Without meaning to, I kept a lot of my answers and explanations brief and quick. I should’ve trusted her more, but I’m too fucking paranoid. Or “hyper vigilant”. 

Chloe said she liked Emily too. I could see tear stains on her cheeks and known she must’ve cried. I told her she can tell me if she wanted but there was no pressure to if she didn’t, I get it. She said they’d talked about Rachel, but didn’t elaborate. She didn’t have to.

I hope this helps the way my mom clearly wants it to. I want to stop feeling so shitty, I don’t care what pills I have to take to make it happen.

Dec 17th, 2013

I’m sitting with Dex and Tammi at lunch now. That’s cool, I usually sit alone. They just saw me at lunch today and said “Max! I didn’t know you had this lunch period too!” and sat right down next to me and started a conversation. 

The two of them- and the rest of the gang- are so cool and confident. I really hope I can absorb some of that. I’m almost jealous. 

I am seriously glad I’ve made friends though, it’s so nice to have people I can meet up with after school or commiserate with about classes and teachers.

Now if only I can finish up the last of my homework this over the break. I have a few overdue labs for Chem. But after that, I’m back on a regular school schedule! Yay! No more [redacted] dissociative episodes over my insane amount of stress!

I still dread school every single day, but friends make it more bearable. But just barely. I hate the sound of my alarm. I have to force myself out of bed every morning. I feel sick going there and having to sit down at a desk. And I’m so insanely tired every day when I get home because I’m so para[redacted] vigilant all day. 

If I could just stop being so vigilant, maybe it would be easier. Some days I think about faking sickness or even making myself sick by licking something gross just to avoid it. But the intrusive thoughts have not won yet.

Thank god for winter break.

Dec 20th, 2013

Jefferson is officially in jail. He got a 50 year sentence. I think it should’ve been life. Chloe found out and showed me an article on the computer about it and there was a photo of Victoria Chase seated during the trail. I still remember that moment when I saw her face. She looked so out of it. Her stare was so hard, so tired, and so terrified. My face looks like that. 

Weird reaction don’t judge me- but I bent over and puked. 

I guess I was just so [redacted] over seeing Victoria feeling that sticky disgusted way that I feel when I think about that day. The way I feel like I’ve been tainted irreversibly in some way, a coat of dirt and grime and filth and infection over my skin that I can’t scrub off no matter how hard I try. And I know it’s his fault.

I feel gross and sick when I think about it. That's probably what led to puking. 

I wish that any of this made me feel better. Jefferson is basically in jail for the rest of his life and I wish that made me feel better. He can never get near me ever again. But that doesn’t make me feel better- it still feels like he’s hunting me down and I have to keep looking over my shoulder or he’ll get me. Most nights I go to sleep afraid that I’ll wake up in that room again, or back in class that Monday where it all started. 

I feel shitty for saying it, or even thinking it, but I wish David had killed him in this reality. I wish he was dead. Maybe I’d feel a little more secure then.

Dec 22nd, 2013

Dr. Emily asked me about my parents again. I don’t know why she’s so fixated on my relationship with my parents. At the end of the session, she suggested that I get them to come in here and the four of us can talk about them taking a more active role in my life.

She retracted that statement when she saw how uncomfortable it made me. I mean, wowser, can you imagine my parents being weirdly involved with my life? It would feel oppressive and invasive and… and weird!!! 

She gave me a few methods to deal with the dissociation episodes. 

One, I should find five things I can see, four things I can feel, three things I can hear, two things I can smell, and one thing I can taste. I remember Angela recommending me that as a grounding method. It was hard to remember in the moment because it was so many steps.

She recommended exercise, which is a stretch knowing me. 

Then she said the word “grounding” and BAM I knew exactly what we were talking about. I shared all the grounding methods I knew; writing in my journal, taking photos, listening to music, splashing cold water on my face (or just drastic temperature in general), and the newest one I discovered; weight. Tight hugs have helped during episodes before because of the weight. Emily suggested I buy a weighted blanket. It may have been the smartest suggestion a therapist has ever given me.

She also said my “type” of dissociation disorder is a mix of “amnesia” and “derealization” which is cool I guess. Apparently not all dissociative people (???) do it the same way. 

She also suggested that I find a daily routine to manage stress. I told her I would try but I’m not even going to attempt it. It was a very neurotypical thing of her to say. I have my own ways of doing things she wouldn’t understand. 

I think I like her, she listens more than Angela did. I think Chloe likes her too, but is having a hard time understanding therapists and how the environment works and is a bit awkward. I am too though.

Dec 25th, 2013

[There is a Polaroid photo of many pigeons on a park bench pasted here]

This was fun. I want photography to be fun again. I’m going to keep trying. 

My family doesn’t do big Christmas dinners, but I think my parents tried a bit harder because Chloe was here this year. My mom makes a mean brisket though. It was nice to have a meal together.

Dec 26th, 2013

My parents got me the digital camera for Christmas. It wasn’t one of the ones that made the specific click sound that I hate. That was pretty cool of them, I won’t lie. 

I got Chloe a few posters of bands I know she likes to hang in what is our room now. Her music taste is starting to rub off on me, but I think the opposite is true as well.

Chloe made me a mix tape. She said that the two of us are overdue for a revamp of the “pirate mix” I made when we were twelve. Which is fair. 

Another thing I bought was matching watches for me and Chloe. I played it off like it was just another gift, but later I told her that it was so Chloe would know of I ever used my rewind.

I can tell she knew it was more of me not trusting myself and using Chloe and an anchor than the show of trust I fronted like it was, but she didn’t say anything, and she did wear it. 

Tammi and the others invited me and Chloe to one of their shows this Friday through the group chat. They’re doing a Christmas theme and really want to see us there. They’re trying to get as many people to show as possible. 

That many people intimidates me- I’ll be vigilant all night. Can I even do that? I’m an introvert, and I know damn well the consequences of pushing myself after my social battery is dead. Does this work the same way?

I hope not. I think this is exactly what Chloe needs. She’s been talking about her life feeling monotonous and shit lately. This is a perfect way to get her feeling excited about something again, and I want that for her.

But I know she won’t go if I stay home because she’s way too sweet and loyal like that. Even if I say it’s okay to go without me, she’d stay behind. 

I’ll go anyway. For her.

Dec 27th, 2013

The day is finally here! I was right, Chloe is super excited. I’m so happy to see her that way, I know she’s been feeling down lately. 

I let her choose my outfit, she was excited about that too. Why, I have no idea. Wish us luck!

That was absolutely Chloe’s scene. She had a great time. I’ve been to the Beanbarn before, and it was a totally different atmosphere than last time. It was so chill the last time I was here, just a normal Seattle hipster cafe. Now all the tables were pushed aside and it was a total mosh.

I had already proven that I wasn’t totally ready for the mosh pit, but I allowed Chloe to bait me into trying it anyway. I was able to last a few minutes- maybe one song- dancing so densely packed like that before I had to sit out. 

I wanted to dance with her more, but I was for cereal way too mentally tired. I tried hard to convince myself I was being stupid, no one here was out to get me, but I kept looking over my shoulder for Nathan Prescott to walk in. 

But for that minute or so I was dancing with Chloe packed tight like that, it was almost fun. There was too much anxiety making a ruckus in my stomach for me to be having as much fun as Chloe was, but I almost didn’t care. I could see Chloe having fun, and that made me happy.

I told her to go on and dance without me and that I’d be here, watching. 

Lawrence found us and said hi, but he didn’t stick to us the whole time. Tammi’s band is insanely good. She has an amazing voice, I had no idea. They sang mostly covers, Christmas themed ones. They had on original song too. It was really pretty, but I had no idea what it was about.

While Chloe was dancing, I snapped a few photos of the band onstage. I think it was the lighting, or maybe my newfound determination to get back into the zone with my craft, but I was feeling inspired. 

Feeling worn out, vigilant, happy for Chloe, and inspired was a weird combination. I used the flashing lights and jumbled crowd to capture that jumbled mesh of emotions. I also got a few images of Tammi and the others mid performance. 

[A polaroid photo of a crowd of people at a rustic looking cafe. It’s dark, there is a bright orange lights coming from the right and red lights coming from somewhere behind everyone. Many people are mid motion, including an unknown girl in the midst of flipping her long black hair back and forth is pasted here]

[A polaroid photo from an onlooker’s perspective of a dance circle where the backs of people are seen more than the dancer in the center of the circle is pasted here]

All in all, I didn’t have a bad time. Chloe and I met up with the band after their performance and the speakers on either side of the stage was blasting radio music and everyone was still moshing. 

Chloe had looked at my pictures beforehand, and had already praised them. It was real sweet, and maybe a downright lie, but I always appreciate it. I swear she’s my number one fan.

When we went over to the band and I gushed about how amazing they were, Chloe brought up the photos of them I’d taken. At the time I was like “oh yeah! Copyright! I should ask them before I do anything with these”. So I showed them the photos and asked if it was okay to use them or post them online.

And get this- they really liked them. So much so; they wanted me to come to as many of their performances as possible to take more so they can use the images as promotion. They offered to pay me.

I almost said no- because we were friends- but damn it, it was a real photography job offer!! So I accepted. It was really cool.

I let them have the photos where they were featured, but next time, I’m going to get paid. Paid!! How cool is that?

I’m wiped out but…. Worth it.

Dec 28th, 2013

Emily says I should talk to my parents about how stressed the idea of returning to school is for me. She says she recommends taking a year off, and putting me into places where I’m around a lot of people- like school- is counterproductive to my ability to “manage my hyper vigilance”. 

I said “try telling my parents that”. And she pulled them into the session to address it. She tried to convince my parents that it was in my best interest, even saying that I’m stunting the growth of my brain and my ability to heal by remaining at school right now, but I know they weren’t convinced. I’m not ready to go back.

Dec 30th, 2013

In the group chat today, I got a lot of compliments on my photos. We went off on a lot of tangents and the idea of band names came up, and they’re all stumped. 

Chloe then said they should make it pirate themed, why not, I guess. They settled on a couple names, but they really like he pirate theme for some reason.

I wish I could sleep through the rain like Chloe does. I’m tired, but I can’t stop seeing blinking white lights behind my eyes and feeling rain water drenching my clothes. I’m so tired.

Dec 31st, 2013

You’ll never fuckin guess what. The Oregon Board of Education emailed my parents saying that they’ve decided all seniors that were attending Blackwell Academy this academic year before it was destroyed “shouldn’t have to resume academic studies” and if we wanted, we can just graduate now.

Can you believe?!? I didn’t think that was something you could do. My parents remembered my last therapy session and are considering letting me graduate through Blackwell instead of finishing the year. I’m crossing my fingers!!

YOU'LL NEVER GUESS WHAT. I'M A GRADUATE!! 

I have never felt so relieved in my entire life, I sincerely hope I never have to enter a high school ever again. I hope Lawrence and the band don’t forget about me and Chloe!

Dec 31st, 2013, 11:56am

“I mean, you’re doing better than me.” 

Chloe’s legs were draped over Max’s where she lay perpendicular on her bed. Her mom’s computer was propped up on Max’s lap. Watching the ball drop felt a little redundant, but it would be even weirder to not do anything and watch the year pass them by. 

“Because you wanted to graduate so bad, right?” Max asked, dripping with sarcasm.

“Whatever,” Chloe scoffed, “I think it counts as a real graduation.”

“Well, it doesn’t feel like one.” Max replied. On her screen, someone she didn’t know was preforming on a stage, somewhere in time square. “Maybe we should be out there doing stuff like this.”

“Stuff like what?” Chloe asked, not sitting up to come see.

“You know, like, celebrating the new year, the way everyone in time square is right now.” She clarified. It felt silly out loud, Max wasn’t a big holiday person. 

“We have to make our way up to New York.” Said Chloe.

Max sat up straight against her headboard. “What does that mean? How would we work our way up?”

Chloe kept her eyes on the ceiling. “Well, we’d have to travel to some more chill places first.”

“We’re traveling now?” Max chuckled lightly.

“Yeah,” Chloe smiled, sitting up. “We’ll have to start small though. Like maybe Portland, then we’ll see about getting out of Oregon. We don’t want to freak you out with the world outside of Oregon before I know you can handle it.”

Max laughed. “Is that on the twenty-fourteen bucket list?”

Almost self-consciously, Chloe shrugged. “Well, maybe not twenty-fourteen, but someday.”

Max’s smile wavered. “You’re serious?” She asked. “You wanna… like… go and travel places?”

“Maybe.” Chloe replied impishly. “One day. I dunno. I mean, you’re not planning on living with your parents forever, are you? And this way, you get to be the world traveling photographer you wanted to be when we were kids. Remember? I said I would follow you around and bodyguard you.”

Max smiled again, softer, shying away from the eye contact. “Yeah, I remember that.”

And Max thought about it- really thought about it. Max hails herself as someone of routine and simpleness, and has been that way for five long years. But before that, she was a kid with big dreams. She wanted- more than anything- to explore the world and capture it on film.

It was a silly dream then, a fantasy, even, that she and Chloe could go far beyond Arcadia Bay and traverse the great wide world in search of adventure, like they were pirates. 

In Arcadia, she would watch the ships dock and sail from the harbor from a bench on the boardwalk, and wonder who captained each one. What adventures they went on. What her own ship would look like, what she would name it, where she would go. Where she and Chloe would go. 

Older, she would sit at a booth by a window at the Two Whales, listening to the Truckers at the bar talk amongst themselves and wonder what it must be like to live on the road, having a new destination every morning and a new inn to stay at every night. 

Chloe had always shared her hunger for adventure, even when they were little. Apart from her, Max couldn’t envision herself that way anymore, not without Chloe. But with her here now… would she want that again?

Her lips hugged into a smile. She knew the answer. “If we do this, you gotta promise we’ll end up in New York for New Years’ one day.” She said. “I want to see the ball drop in person.”

Chloe pursed her lips like she was trying not to smile as wide as she was. “Where else would you wanna go?”

Max thought for a moment. “Dollywood. In Tennessee.”

Chloe laughed, sitting up straighter so the two of them were closer together. “Dollywood? What the hell is that?”

“It’s like a um, a Dolly Parton theme park.”

“That exists?!” Chloe exclaimed with mirth. “No way. I didn’t even know you liked Dolly Parton.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Max replied. “I want to get a tour of her little tour bus trailer she lived in.”

“A trailer, huh?” Chloe mused, half to herself. “Would we ever have one of those?”

“You’d want to live in a trailer?”

Chloe shrugged again. “It feels convenient for travel.” She theorized. “It would be like Frank’s RV, but less gross because it would be us.”

It sounded like Chloe had thought about this before. Maybe a lot. Max’s insides twisted. “That sounds hella expensive.” Max thought aloud. “We’d both have to get jobs.”

Chloe groaned. “I hate that.” She leaned forward on her knees, so that their heads were even closer. “But none of this solves our present dilemma.”

“Which is?”

“How we’re gonna celebrate your graduation.” Chloe clarified, like it should’ve been obvious. “We need to do something big- something crazy.”

“By all means, tell me what on your mind.”

Chloe paused to think. She looked Max up and down, clearly debating something. “You should….” She began, “you should get a tattoo.”

“A tattoo?” Max repeated aghast. “Why do you want my mom to kill me? Why do you want me dead, Chloe?”

“Quit being dramatic, she’s not going to kill you.” Chloe rebutted. “You’ll just get grounded forever.”

“That would cancel our road trip plans.”

“No one can stop our pirate adventures.” Chloe insisted. “Just a small one. Right here.” She reached out and touched the inside of Max’s wrist where it rested on her keyboard with her index finger. 

Max bit her lip. This was one of Chloe's more impulsive ideas. Since they’ve reunited, Max had rejected the idea of smoking, drinking, weed, and tattoos for herself, but has since come to embrace them for Chloe. Chloe doesn’t push anything onto Max, but has tried suggesting little things. Expand her wardrobe, dye her hair. Just a strand? Wear different kinds of make-up, not just eyeshadow, Chloe would do it for her. Now a tattoo. It’s not even the first time they’ve joked about it. But this didn’t feel like a joke. And weirdly enough, Max didnt feel like joking either.

“… What should I get?”

Chloe brightened, though still confused. “Really? That’s it?”

“I… like the idea of a small one.” Max admitted. 

“Anything.” Chloe replied. “Anything you want. That’s the beauty of tattoos.”

Her voice was quieter, but Max could still hear it easily because of how close their faces had become. It was stupid, but something made her hesitate. She could kiss her now, if she wanted. Chloe’s gaze lowered to Max’s cheekbones like she’d just realized the same thing. It would be easy. Her stomach fluttered. She had an affinity for butterflies. 

“… Three… Two… One.. Happy New Year!”

Max returned her attention to the computer on her lap. “We missed the countdown.”

Chloe scoffed. “There’s always next year.”

There would be a next year, for the two of them. That struck Max all of a sudden. They survived this year. And they would both live to see the next. And the next beyond that. And that was Max’s doing. For a second, just a second, she was proud of everything she’d ever done that got the two of them here, including the cost.

Chapter Text

.

-

PART I

DUST

-

The holy list of things to remember

• Don’t overthink the little things. Especially things like dumb stuff you did a long time ago. That stuff has long past you, thinking about it over and over, berating yourself for things that have already happened, won't fix what you’ve done. All that does is get you stuck in your own past, your own mistakes. It makes it difficult to exist in the present or be better in the future.

• Following number 1, don’t think so much about your choices so much that you get yourself frozen in indecision. It’s not a bad thing to be cautious, but too much of that and it’ll prevent you from making decisions in the present. Opportunities will pass you by. There is no such thing as the Perfect Right Moment to act or the Perfect Right Thing to say. Act. Speak. It’s better than nothing.

• You can’t win it all. Sometimes people make mistakes, and that includes you. Instead of hating yourself forever for being human, you must accept yourself as imperfect and all of your mistakes. They happened. Nothing you can do about that. What matters now is owning up to them and learning from them. Be better in the future. 

• The past was simple and the future is complicated, but you cannot return to the past, so try living in the future.

• You cannot change the past, stop trying

• You cannot change the past

• You cannot change the past

• You will not change the past

Chapter Text

Oct 6th, 2014

Max didn’t walk around Seattle late at night, for obvious reasons. Safety being one. She was a woman, it’s a big city, yada yada. That by itself was enough reason, but because it’s Max and these days she tends to blow that sort of thing out of proportion, it gives all the more reason to just stay home.

But with Chloe at her side, she thinks, it was probably easier. 

The door to the Beanbarn opened like they were expected to arrive when they did. Lawrence was waiting on the other side. She could hear the music beat pounding from behind him, the lights dimmed but still lit.

“What are you guys wearing!?”

Chloe put her hands out to her sides. “Pirates. Duh.”

Max had to agree with Chloe. I mean, it was pretty obvious. Chloe was wearing a big red coat that looked close enough to one a pirate would wear, and a big plastic pirate hat from Party City over hair that had grown longer and shaggier and greener. They’d re-dyed it recently, which meant the bathroom was now blue. The color Chloe bought was labeled “blue” and looked blue at first, but it was a new brand- different from the one she used before. A few showers later, it was revealed that she used the wrong color, and her head was now aquamarine. 

Max didn’t mind the new color. In fact, she liked it. But honestly, Chloe would look great in any color in her opinion, so maybe it wasn’t worth much. 

Max’s outfit was that of a first mate, and probably wouldn’t make too much sense of she wasn’t standing next to Chloe. She was in high rise black leggings and one of those pillow-y white button ups with the poofy sleeves that felt pirate-ish. She had her Long Max Silver eyepatch on (with a new strap so it would actually fit her head), and a bandana she wore like a headband.

She kind of needed a headband these days. She was due for a haircut, her bangs kept falling in her eyes and her bob was closer to her shoulders. She was starting to like the way she looked with her hair away from her face, like she did when she was younger. At the height of her and Chloe’s friendship, she’d often worn her hair back in a ponytail in addition to wearing a headband while she grew out her bangs, keeping her hair from her face because Chloe said she had a pretty face and that she shouldn’t hide it behind hair.

“Yeah but… why?” Lawrence asked.

“You’re throwing a party in October.” Chloe answered easily. “That makes it a Halloween party.”

“The band is wearing Pirate costumes.” Max reasoned.

“Because their band name is ‘the Highseas’ and they want to commit to the aesthetic.” Said Lawrence. “It’s not a costume party.”

“Well, then, we’re here to support.” Chloe decided. “Let us in, valet man.”

Lawrence sighed, and stood aside. 

The Beanbarn was more packed than Max had ever seen it. The band had been promoting this event more than their others because they were doing their first ever performance of the new song they’d written. 

The tables were all removed, taken to the back. The booths against the walls had various bowls of punch or snacks. The bar was open, and Tammi’s mom Lauren was working tonight. That was very like her, she was a very smart lady and never passed up an opportunity for her buissness. She was probably making bank off the crowd. 

The stage was set, but the little wooden platform didn’t look like it would oversee the crowd well. This place wasn’t built to be a club by any means, but that’s part of its charm. 

“I can’t believe they have you working the front entrance.” Max admitted over the noise of the crowd. 

“It’s not that I’ve been enjoying it, but I did volunteer.” Lawrence admitted. “The things I do for my friends.”

Max stepped closer and pat him on the shoulder. “And that’s what makes you such a great friend.”

“Aw, thank you. At least someone appreciates me.” Then he looked around, spotting Chloe searching the crowd for someone, and took a step closer to Max. “So, uh, matching costumes?” He asked, his voice lowered. “Kind of a couple-y thing to do. Have you two finally-?”

“Nope!” Max replied quickly, shoving him back out of her personal space. “Keep trying.”

Lawrence frowned, disappointed, as Chloe came up behind her and clapped a hand on her shoulder, making Max jump in surprise and turn around. “I found a good vantage point, c’mon.” She grinned up at Lawrence and grabbed Max by the hand. “Later, doorman!”

He groaned as Chloe tugged her away. As Max looked down at their connected hands, locked together without much of a thought put into it at all- she can’t really blame Lawrence for coming to that conclusion. Max can see it too, and she thinks about it a lot these days. They do everything together, their clothes and styles have started blending together, they have enough inside jokes to speak in code, they know everything about one another to an uncanny degree, heck, they sleep in the same bed! 

She couldn’t exactly get upset when Lawrence pulled her aside and asked about her feelings for Chloe all those months ago, when them and the bands were at the library. Her first instinct then had been to lie, but she was a shitty liar. Lawrence hadn’t breathed a word to anyone since, but very much unlike herself, Max found herself not caring if he did or not. 

Max didn’t try to hide the way she felt for Chloe anymore, what was the point? It felt impossible that everyone didn’t know. It felt impossible that Chloe didn’t already know, she went to no trouble to shield that from her. But then again, it was a little hard to differentiate what was romance, and what was the unquantifiable best friendship that Max and Chloe had and always have had. 

They’ve always been different from other best friends. Closer. Maybe that’s just because they’ve always been headed this way, or maybe that’s just because they’re just weird like that. Impossible to tell. The lines blur for the two of them. But if Max likes Chloe, she thinks there’s a fair chance Chloe likes Max. It just keeps going unsaid. But Max thinks they’re close to something. They get closer everyday. They’re on the edge of something. One of them needs to push them off, but Max isn’t sure she has the right to do it herself.

She’s decided a lot for the both of them. She was the one who decided to leave (well that’s not exactly true, but she did leave), she was the one who decided to return, and she was the one to decide their fate on the day of the storm. She wanted to allow Chloe to make this last choice. 

Besides, Chloe’s hand on hers, she feels no urgency. Chloe isn’t going anywhere, and neither is Max. 

Chloe brought them to one of the booths on the back wall and scooted into one of the seats, sitting up on her knees to look over the back of the booth and at the stage. Max hopped into the seat next to her, copying the motion.

“Good call.” Max decided. “No heads in the way.”

“Right?” Chloe shifted in her seat and went for the stack of red solo cups on the booth’s table, likely about to get herself some of the punch out on the bowl nearby. 

Max grabbed her arm, anxiety setting off in her stomach like a rocket. “Don’t.”

“What?” Chloe replied. “I’m thirsty.”

Max shook her head. “You don’t know what’s in there.” She insisted. “Don’t eat or drink anything laying open at a party. Ever.”

Chloe met her eye, then tugged herself away from Max’s grasp. “Alright, you win.”

Max sighed, tension releasing itself from her shoulders. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right.” Chloe resigned. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Max bumps her shoulders to Chloe’s, trying to ease her worry. Max was fine, and she didn’t Want Chloe worrying about her. She could see it in Chloe’s eyes that she was worried about how she was holding up, but attending more than her fair share of concerts and parties over the last year have more than gotten her used to them. Well, more or less. 

“He-eeyy! You made it!” 

Max turned her sights back to the crowd as Pixie called out to them, rushing up to their side. 

“Hey, Pix!” Max called back. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Pixie made it to their booth, wearing a pirate hat similar to Chloe’s over her hijab. “Ready to make some photographic magic?”

Max held the digital camera hanging around her neck up for Pixie to see. “Born ready.”

Chloe leaned back so she could be seen. “Believe me, she hella knows what she’s doing.”

“Believe me, I already know that.” Pixie replied.

Max laughed, casting her gaze away. That was when the dubstep blasting from the speakers cut off, and the crowd’s attention turned to the stage. Tammi, Dex, and Dwight were onstage already, Tammi leaned into the mic. “Good ‘evenin ye landlubbers! We be the Highseas!” She addressed the crowd in a pirate accent. They really committed to this bit. And they definitely took a liking to Chloe’s pirate themed name suggestions. 

Pixie raised her hand high above the sea of people and pushed past the crowd. “I’m not behind the drums! I’m not behind the drums!” She called.

Tammi noticed, and paused. “And that be our drummer!” 

Pixie rushed the short distance up the stage and Max saw more than heard Chloe laugh at her side, sound drowned out by the noise of the crowd. 

“We thank ye all for coming and hope ye all enjoy our very first original number!” Tammi finished, finally dropping the pirate voice. “This is called ‘Only One’, score and lyrics written by the one and only, Pixie on the drums.”

Pixie threw the drum sticks over her head and they launched into their first number. 

Fallen between things that I have seen

Wish that you could so you could see it too, 

The way I see you…

Max had watched Pixie revise and rewrite this song over and over, struggling with the cords,  the tempo, the metaphors and emotion of the lyrics themselves, for months.

Say it’s okay, say it’s alright

Say to let you go, say you’ve made your mind

Just as I’ve made mine…

As far as Max knew, Pixie wrote most of her songs based on fictional characters she had. The story between them wasn’t super defined yet, but the basic idea stayed the same. 

And here, this is where you’ll see

You are the only thing that matters to me

As of right now, the story lay between a princess and a knight. The princess was in the role of a damsel, and was forced to sacrifice herself to save the village they're from by her parents, the king and queen. Max doesn’t know from what, because Pixie keeps changing it. A magic curse, a dragon, what have you. 

The knight saved the princess from this through a daring rescue mission. What happens to the knight after this isn’t something Pixie has clearly defined, but she focuses her songs on that moment of decision, and the powerful emotion the knight has that drives him to it. The feeling of willingness to do absolutely anything for someone you truly love, even if it may not be what’s right for others. 

Max doesn't totally understand why Pixie sees this as the epitome of romance. She said the feeling is what drives her to songwriting, and Max can’t judge her creative outlet.

And now, this is where we’ll run

You are the only one

You are the only one…

Max held her camera, booting it up. She was still getting used to how complicated her new DSLR was, but her field was every bit as competitive as Victoria had made it out to be, unfortunately, and Max did have to keep up. As much as she loved her polaroid and very much still used it, it was important not to get lost as the world kept chugging along to the future. Max didn’t want to get left behind because she’s clinging too tightly to the past. 

She lined up the band on the stage, trying to get a good angle with her current vantage point. 

Click. Click click.

One thing about digital cameras Max loved- not having to wait for your images to print before taking more.

Over the crowd, Max yelled to Chloe; “I’m gonna try and find some more angles. B. R. B!”

Chloe gave her a nod, and Max slid off the booth and into the crowd. She bumped into a few people trying to find a new angle, and came up closer to the front of the stage. Since the stage itself wasn’t very high, it was easy to get a few upshots of the band mid performance. 

She took the camera off Auto, trying to configure her own settings to fit the moment. She was getting faster at it. Close-up, up the exposure. She had to adjust her zoom into focus. She got a few really cool angles of Tammi this way, mid song.

She then attempted to move her way to the left side of the stage to get more shots of Dwight and Pixie from profile. The lights were really working in her favor tonight.

As Max raised her camera back up, someone ran into her from the front. She backed up and looked behind her, back at Max, but was now blocking her view. “Oh, sorry.” She said.

“Sorry,” Max replied, “can you move just a little bit…?”

The girl was dressed for a heavy metal concert, punk attire head to toe, a few inches taller than Max, black hair with streaks of red framing her face and bold makeup. She looked and spotted the camera in Max’s hands. “Oh, sorry.”

Max smiled awkwardly as she stood aside. Then, Max played with the focus of her lense and upped the saturation setting (something she was still getting used to being able to do), and waited for Pixie to stop moving enough to capture the shot she wanted. 

Click click.

And I know we’ve been here before 

But we’re not so innocent anymore…

“Are they paying you for this?” The girl asked.

Max hadn't expected her to address Max again. She may be a little too used to being unnoticed. She was trying to shake that. “Uh, yeah.”

“Oh, so you must be some kind of professional then, huh?” She decided, flashing Max a smile.

Max smiled back, awkward, almost flustered. She felt called out, but flattered. “Maybe one day.”

“I’m sure you’re great.” Said the girl. She looked Max up and down real quick. “I like your style.”

“Oh! Uh, thank you.” Max replied quickly. “It’s more of a costume, really. I’m a pirate! You have more style than me,” she chuckled awkwardly. Jeez, she didn’t know how to respond to compliments. 

“Thanks.” She replied, smiling wider. Max must’ve said the right thing there… “So, how do you know about the Highseas?”

“We went to school together!” Max answered. “Most of them are off in college now though, and I’m uh… taking a gap year.” 

The full story was a little more embarrassing than that. She had been planning to attend Cornish College of Art and Design this fall, but she couldn’t submit her applications because her SAT and ACT scores weren’t valid anymore. Now she was stuck in college limbo. She was able to retake them, but they won’t count for this year. She’ll have to re-apply for next school year as a freshman and hope it works out. 

It was a bit embarrassing to explain, so she always had a shortened version when asked about her schooling. And it’s not like gap years were a bad thing, were they? 

“That’s so cool! Are you planning on traveling anywhere?” She asked.

“If by ‘traveling’ you mean taking the occasional trip up to Portland, then yeah, I travel all the time.” Max joked.

Miraculously, the joke landed and the girl laughed. I’m getting a good score in “social interaction”, something normal to want and possible to achieve. She thought, breaking into a wide grin. 

“I’m Winona.” She said. “You live in Seattle?”

“Yeah.” Max replied.

“Then maybe I’ll see you around.” An award winning smile. Max attempted to give one back. It was probably much more tense.

She retreated- it felt an appropriate time to do so- to find another spot to shoot from. Maybe she needed more distance from the stage- a wider shot. She dove into the crowd, a sea of semi familiar faces, and spotted the most familiar face in the world. Chloe called her attention by grabbing her shoulder. 

“Hey!” Max greeted.

“Hey.” Chloe replied. “Who wa-? Um, you good so far?”

Max took pause for a moment. Chloe’s expression was strained. Was she doing alright? Did she want to leave? “Yeah.” Max replied. “You?”

“Sure.” Chloe answered. “Who was that girl you were talking to?”

“Oh, um, I think she said her name was… Wendy? No- Winona.” Max recalled. “She was nice.”

“You know her from school?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” Max thought. “Why?”

Chloe shrugged. “She was flirting with you, y’know.”

Max startled. “Was she?” Frantically, she looked around to try and spot the black and red hair in the crowd, only to find that Max had lost her. “How can you even tell something like that?”

“When you bend over to take pictures, she looked at your ass.” Chloe explained, always so eloquent. 

Max’s face heated. “Oh.” She stated. “Wow. Don’t think anyone’s ever flirted with me like that before. I can't believe I totally missed it.”

Something in Chloe’s expression shifted, a minute detail, the sourness in her face lessening. Was it guilt? What for? “I don’t see why not. I bet they have, you’re a catch. You just probably didn’t notice. Did you get her number or anything?”

“I didn’t even tell her my name.” Max replied. 

Why was Chloe being so insistent on this? If she was teasing Max on her poor communication skills, she would have done so already. She talked as if she was almost bothered by this random girl’s attention Max was receiving. Chloe looked down at the rustic wood floor. “Did you want to go over there and tell her?”

Something occurred to her then. “You sound like you’re jealous or something.”

“Jeal-?! Of what?!” Chloe spat, harsher than needed. Defensive.

Max smiled. Maybe that was cruel, but what need did Chloe have of that emotion around Max of all people? “Oh, so I should go find that girl and ask for her number? Is that what you’re saying?” She asked innocently, gesturing to somewhere off behind herself and taking a half step back.

“What? No, I just-“ Chloe replied instantly, sputtering out, sighing, starting over. “I don’t even-“ Max giggled into the palm of her hand, and the creases in Chloe’s frown eased as she realized Max was only teasing. “Oh ha ha. Fucking hilarious.”

Letting her camera fall to her neck, Max pushed Chloe’s shoulder gently. “C’mon, relax! Even if I wanted to, I don’t know how to flirt. I would have no idea what to say! You know I hate talking to new people. Besides, I came here with you.”

‘Cause you are the only one

‘Cause you are the only one…

In the dim light of the cafe, it was hard to make out how Chloe looked away, assurance and shame mixed with something else in her features. Could she have honestly thought Max would be talking that way to anyone else? It felt silly. Who else? Who else but Chloe? When the two of them were so close to finally…? Max didn’t think Chloe would be insecure about something like that. It felt like such a given to Max. 

Gingerly, Max reached out to press a comforting touch to Chloe’s arm. “Chloe,”

But she deflected the gesture. “What’ve you got so far?”

It took Max a second to realize she was talking about her photography. She decided to let Chloe deflect, it was mean to push her if she didn’t want to talk about it. “Oh yeah,” Max held her camera back up, pulling up the data stored in her SIM card. “Just a few close ups.” 

She held the camera between the two of them. Chloe moved so their sides pressed up against one another and she could see the camera’s digital screen. The dancing, moshing, was happening all around them. It made them feel compact, closer than it would’ve felt otherwise.

Max moved between photos, showcasing them to Chloe. “I’ve been playing with the contrast and the lighting for some of these.” She explained. “The colored strobe lights and stuff here kinda lend itself to it.”

“Contrast?” Chloe prompted.

“Well, you know, drawing attention to the differences in the lights and shadows.” Max explained. “Mostly in playing around with the IOS and figuring out how to adjust the exposure-“

“What’s that?”

“The IOS?” Max asked. She brought the camera higher, so Chloe could see it when she pointed to the small button next to the camera’s digital screen. “This button brings up a menu where you can set the IOS higher or lower. It lets your camera see in the dark, basically. I’m trying to see how far I can raise it without adding too much noise to the photos.” 

She angled the camera to display the buttons at the top, several of them in a circle. “These are some of the exposure settings, I can regulate the amount of light the camera sees and the sharpness of the shadows. Stuff like that. Digital stuff- you just gotta mess with the settings until you like what you see. It requires so much more attention to detail and thinking on the spot than an instant camera would. You’d think it was the other way around! An instant camera- you get one shot to get what you want, so it has to be perfect the first time. And a digital camera- as many shots as you want, right? But with instant, you tinker with things like exposure after, and it’s a process you take a while to do before you like it. With digital- you have to do all that on the spot. It requires quick thinking, making split second judgement calls about really complicated things and…”

Max took a breath, then a step back. “Sorry.” First I can’t figure out how to talk, then I don’t know when to stop. She laughed lightly. “See? Even if I landed a date with a girl, I’d bore her to death talking about camera settings and exposure.”

Chloe was still standing in her space, close, pushed even closer from the crowd. “Oh c’mon,” she dismissed easily. “I can’t imagine anyone could listen to you ramble on about exposure and not immediately fall in love with you.”

It was meant to be a bite, teasing, but the way Chloe’s mouth curved around the words, making them sugary sweet and all too soft, it sounded more like honesty. She wondered what would happen if Max addressed the irony of that statement following Chloe doing just that- listening to Max ramble. What would she say? 

“No kidding?” Max said instead, her lips tugging up into a wide grin. She was unable to stop it.

Chloe realized her mistake a second too late. Her eyes widened, and her smile wavered, but didn’t drop. Max expected Chloe to retract it somehow, direct them elsewhere. Instead, she opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but nothing came. She closed it again. The two of them, locked in a gaze, unable to look away, Chloe chuckled. She sounded caught. She had been caught.

Max was stuck between a step, one foot was ahead of her other. She leaned her weight to favor the foot closer to Chloe, making it appear as thought she was leaning in. Her heart was beating- maybe louder than the music. She wasn’t paying attention to it anymore. She waited for Chloe to do something- anything. It was her call. 

Max could see it in her eyes, the way she looked down to dust Max’s cheekbones with her gaze, that she was thinking about it. But she didn’t go to act. She was usually more impulsive, why paused to overthink now? Chloe’s shoulders were nearly up to her ears, like she’d taken a gasp and hadn’t released the air. Why hold her breath? 

She knew Chloe was feeling this too, the electric current between them, brewing like a storm. The moment didn’t feel like it was taking an eternity, neither did it feel like the briefest of seconds. It felt like they’d pocketed themselves away from time. It didn’t flow right around them. Like time itself waited with baited breath. Max was in Chloe’s space, breathing her dust. Their eyes didn’t leave each other’s.

The crowd around them rose to cheering, loud enough to make Max remember where they were. Chloe’s eyes were drawn to the stage first. Max’s followed. Max was still warped in a smile. Before she looked away, Max saw how Chloe bit down on her lip, like she was trying to suppress hers. 

A rush ran to her head. Dizzying. Moments like these- where it felt impossible to justify anything platonic- were becoming more and more frequent affairs. Like the previous night when Chloe suggested Jack and Rose from the Titanic as a couple’s costume for Halloween, and they traded banter that wasn’t quite joking enough to be a joke about the romantic implications of it. Or when they would talk about their future, how they were saving up for that trailer or RV and how that picture perfect future if theirs was always just the two of them. 

It made Max think, the more it happened, that one day, one of them would breach the gap. Ask “is this serious?” and then make it so. Because Max almost knew the answer. She knew she wouldn’t be wrong if she said it out loud. But maybe it was something else that was in the way. Max didn’t know the rules to this tango they did. Was there a line she couldn’t cross? She didn’t want to take a misstep. And yet, she kinda did.

“That was ‘Only One’! And unfortunately our ‘only one’ single.” Tammi’s voice echoed from the mic. “And now we move into covers! This is Two Best Friends by BB Bean, it’s dedicated to our two mateys by the bar, they know who they are.” Chloe laughed at Max’s side, close enough Max could nearly feel the warmth of it radiate off her. “One two three four!”

One day my friend, they left the house

They met this girl, they told me about

The fun they had, and in the end

She said “Hey, can we just stay friends?”

But they don’t care, it’s totally fine

They fell in love with the quality time

They spent together, and all along

They’ll just stay friends like nothings wrong 

‘Cause now they figure things are better 

With how they move through life together

They put one foot in front of the other

Two best friends in love with each other

And yeah they know but they don’t care

One braids her hair, picks out her outfits

The other one loves to drive them around the town

And let’s them pick the music 

Everybody thinks they’re meant to be

And yeah they know, but honestly who cares?

They didn’t talk for a moment. A long moment. It felt delicate but sturdy at the same time. Max turned to Chloe, decided to break it. “Is it just me or does this feel… a little targeted?” As far as Max knew, it wasn’t a song listed for tonight. In fact, Max didn’t even know this song. 

Chloe faced her back, moving in closer. “I knew it wasn’t just me.” She agreed. “They hate us.”

Max laughed. When they turned back to the stage and Chloe leaned closer still, their sides pressing together, Max didn’t say a word.

They hug and kiss and cuddle so close

They love handwriting love letter notes

And they share clothes, they’re not the same size 

But they don’t care and no one knows why

They both decide to settle down 

When there so much love everybody drowns

They put one foot in front of the other

Two best friends in love with each other

And yeah they know but they don’t care

One braids her hair, picks out her outfits

The other one loves to drive them around the town

And let’s them pick the music 

Everybody thinks they’re meant to be

And yeah they know, but honestly who cares?

Chapter Text

Oct 7th, 2014

“Oh my god Maxie-Max, these look frigging awesome!” Said Pixie, reaching over the booth table at the Beanbarn to click through the photo gallery on Max’s mom’s laptop. 

After learning how to do it online, Max backed all her digital photos to the computer for double security, in case anything happened to her camera or SD card. Max was proud of the photoshoot from the concert yesterday. Did that count as a concert? What qualifies as a concert? Dwight had called it a “gig” when he texted her about it. 

She was glad Pixie liked them, even if it was pretty easy to get her enthused, still… “Pixie, when you call me that, it makes me sound like a sanitary product.”

“You deserve more than one syllable, girl. Look at how badass you made us look!” Pixie exclaimed. She angled the computer over to the girl on Max’s right. “Tammi, you look so fierce.”

Tammi reached over the table and tiled the computer down with one hand over the top of the screen. She smiled to herself, reaching over to the coffee she ordered before Max got here. “Don’t need a photo to tell me that.”

“It’s true.” Max agreed. “You guys are cool with or without my photos. Thanks for letting me take them.”

Pixie tilted the computer’s screen back down so she could see it again and scoffed. “Like we’re doing you a favor. Look at these! It’s like you’ve got magic powers…”

Max’s smile faltered. She tried not to think about it- the tethers of time still reachable at the ends of her fingertips. She could- at any time- reach out and feel them, neat and orderly, just as it’s meant to be. As October closed in, she tried even harder not to think about it. Sometimes she felt like it called to her. 

But even if it did- and that’s not saying she’s certain about it- she wouldn’t answer that call. She can’t. She knows that. It’s one of the rules she’d made for herself following the storm, written down in her journal like the scripture of a religion, which is exactly how close she follows it. 

“They’re… just pictures…” she replied weakly. 

Dex looked over Pixie’s shoulder. “Talented and humble. Vomit.” He said. “How the hell’s Chloe still in the bathroom?”

Max shrugged. They’d arrived a few minutes ago, their meeting being professional; Max showing her clients their product. Chloe had rushed off to the bathroom without even sitting down first. Max had assumed it was to give them space to conduct professional grown up biz. She’s not sure why, her “professional” meetings with the band have never been very professional. 

She looked over at the bathrooms on the other side of the room. It had been a while… maybe something was wrong?

There was a small TV hanging above the archway leading to the bathrooms. It was playing the news quietly, and Max jolted when she recognized where the reporter was standing. She knew that street. If you drove down it and turned right, you’d get to the Two Whales diner. There were people in the street behind her, moving around like they were busy with something, carrying out balloons and other decorations. 

“The event this week will mark one year since the storm swept through Arcadia Bay, destroying homes, business, and lives.” Said the reporter. 

Max’s throat clamped down on itself. 

“The Prescott family, themselves mourning the loss of son Nathan to circumstances surrounding this storm, hope that this memorial service will offer a long-needed chance for goodbyes. The family and their foundation have donated substantial funding into the relief effort and rebuilding of Arcadia Bay.” She continued. A still image of a familiar face appeared on the screen, replacing the reporter. “Sean Prescott in a press conference this morning said of the tragedy; ‘We have all lost a great deal that we’ll never get back. The Bay will take many years to rebuild, but we feel it’s important, one year on, to gather and remember’.”

“Fuck Max, isn’t that the storm you and Chloe escaped?” Pixie said, startling Max from her thoughts. They’d been paying attention too. “That was your school, right?”

Max nearly opened her mouth to reply, but what was the point? They knew the answer. Max had brought it up a total of once to them before. Her heart pounded and she shrugged uncomfortably.

“Shit.” Dex swore.

“Amazing how fast people can rebuild when a rich, white family loses stuff.” Dwight added dryly.

“Dwight, jeez.” Pixie countered quickly. “Not the time.”

Dwight’s eyebrows shot up, only now realizing what he’d said. “Shit. Sorry Max. Sometimes I forget to reach for my filters.”

They look at her, expecting an answer. She hated how her throat clamped up, her stomach squirmed in discomfort whenever it’s mentioned, terribly, as if it had happened yesterday. It hadn’t been. And usually, it didn’t even feel that way. Most of the time, it felt like it happened a year ago. And yet, whenever it’s shoved in her face like this again, it feels like yesterday. No, not yesterday- like it’s still happening. Like she’ll be shoved back in it at any moment- like she’s still jumping through time, desperately trying to get to Chloe. Or like she’s in that nightmare, fighting to wake up. 

There was always something to run from, to struggle to escape. Sometimes it felt like she still had yet to escape, like she wasn't out of the danger yet, and she had to keep a lookout for what was next to come after her, because there was always something. She kept trying all these tactics and shit her therapist recommended, but that uneasy feeling still creeps up on her, making her eyes dart around and her heart pound. 

Her fingertips drummed the table. No one here’s out to get you. You made it to safety- you did that. You’re safe. She repeated internally like a mantra. It did nothing to help.

“It’s…” Max stuttered, “no, it’s cool.”

“I can’t believe how lucky you guys were.” Dex commented. “The death count is insane. Shit, I mean, how many people did you-?”

“Dex!” Pixie hissed, as Max’s stomach sank, like it was being crushed by the weight of a guilt she felt as though she would never shake.

“Hey losers.” Max turned at the sound of Chloe’s voice. She’d been so lost in herself that she missed Chloe coming out of the bathroom. She stood beneath the archway and reached up to the tv mounted there. “How about we switch the channel?” She suggested, easily pressing a button and switching it to something else. Tall people. “That’s enough of real life today, kiddies.” 

Max took a deep breath, easing into a sigh. She tried to keep her gaze on one thing, tried not to look around, to analyze things that didn’t need analyzing, ignore the itch to react. 

She looked over at Chloe instead, eyes only for her. She was wearing a shirt in the cut she liked, no sleeves, very low neckline, but the pattern in the center was pastel flowers. Max’s style had rubbed off on Chloe the way Chloe’s had rubbed off on her. Like today, there was a studded leather bracelet over the blue butterfly tattooed on Max’s inner wrist. 

Chloe walked over to them, catching the computer screen as she approached. “Woah! Maximus, these look hella amazing!” She exclaimed. “I mean, I saw some of them when you were downloading ‘em but holy fuck!”

Max smiled. Hopefully it looked natural. “These guys make it easy.”

“I’m loving the digital stuff, but I kinda miss the Polaroids.” Tammi commented. “They’re so organic and old-school.”

“If you want me to use polaroids, you buy my film next time.” Max replied.

“I dunno, it’s a pain to scan them ‘em so we can put them on our fan-page.” Dwight disagreed.

Dex turned to him. “We have a fan-page?”

“Course we do!” Pixie chirped. “Thirty likes baby, yeah!”

“Well, that’s thirty-four more likes than we have songs.” Dex shrugged, sitting farther down in his seat.

“I have something brewing in practice that will shift that ratio.” Pixie shared, sitting up on her knees in the booth and drumming something unrecognizable with two index fingers on the side of the wooden table, making it shake enough that Tammi went for her coffee, holding it still. 

“Save it for the skins, Pixie.” Dwight said. “That poor table didn’t ask for that abuse.”

Chloe peered over the table, intentionally catching Max’s eye from where she was landlocked in the booth’s seat. “Take a smoke break with me?”

“Ew.” Max teased.

“A bathroom break, then?”

She grinned. Chloe reached a hand out as Max climbed over Tammi to get out of the booth. “M’lady grace.” She offered.

Max took the hand, steadying herself after nearly tripping when she got out of the booth. “Shut up,” she laughed.

She let Chloe guide her by the hand under the archway and into the woman’s bathroom. She thought there was probably something going on. Did something come up at her work? Max had taken up one of her old jobs working at a pottery place, while Chloe had found an internship with a repair shop a few miles out of the city. 

Max was glad she was getting out and doing this- being productive. She knew it was benefiting her mental health a lot. She also knew Chloe enjoyed the work. Cars and machinery had a lot of technical and chemical know-how, which is something Chloe was great in, but also required artistic and creative ability, which is something else she enjoyed. Even if it meant she was busy a lot, Max was happy for her.

But it was almost a kind of serious position, and it stressed Chloe out sometimes with how much work they asked her to do. Did work call her in again? Is that what was happening? Whatever it was, she hoped it wasn’t anything bad- for Chloe’s sake, and that would take her mind off what was happening on the TV- for her own sake.

The bathroom was a single stall, meant for one person at a time, which meant they were cramped when Chloe closed the door behind them. There was graffiti on the walls. One of them was the evil eye, and another read “run away!” One day, she thought. When our jobs earn us enough money to buy a trailer or RV. 

Chloe leaned up against one side of the walls. “You’d think I’d never want to find solace in a bathroom again. Why the hell do they still feel safe?” She wondered.

“Because I saved you in one?” Max guessed.

“Because you saved me in one.” Chloe repeated. “Apparently by a lunatic who ‘died in a storm’.”

Max wilted against the opposite wall from Chloe. “You heard that?” She was hoping Chloe had just barely missed it.

Chloe set her jaw and furrowed her brow, pissed. “Such bullshit.” She spat. “They think they can just sweep what that asshole did under a rug because that fucking storm happened right after we exposed him?”

Max crossed her arms, like that would at all quell her discomfort. “Bullshit.” Max echoed meaninglessly.

“We all fucking know what he did.” She continued furiously. “They think we’ll just forget because he’s dead now? Fucking rich ass pussy, twisting his words around to make it seem like the fucking storm was the thing that killed Nathan. Prescott can sound as fancy as he wants to, but he can’t just erase what happened, pretend like he wasn’t murdered by a guy who taught him to drug and kill students, pretend like there wasn’t a fucking killer that they let loose in Blackwell. Like all the shit Jefferson got away with in that fucking room didn’t even-!”

“Chloe.”

She hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. Like a wince, like a plead. This discomfort was growing, like ice spreading in her chest. She squinted her eyes shut, looking away. She hated hearing his name. She saw white behind her eyelids.

“… Sorry.” Chloe said after a moment. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay.” Max forced her eyes back open.

Chloe’s eyes were round with worry. Max hated making her worry like that. “No, Max, I’m-“

“No, it’s fine.” She repeated. “You’re right. They’re trying to make him look so… innocent.”

Chloe held her gaze a moment. “I’m… still sorry.”

“Chloe, it’s whatever.” Max assured her. “I just hate thinking about him. Not Nathan- it’s- you know.”

“I do.” Chloe replied. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Max exhaled. She just hated how it made her feel heavy and gross. Like she was walking through the thickest humidity you’ve ever seen in your life. Hard to breathe, the moisture weighing her down. Her chest hurt. 

“Have they been trying to reach you about that thing?” Chloe asked.

“Who? What thing?”

“The thing they were talking about on the news.” Chloe clarified. “The one year anniversary thing.”

Max deflated. “Uh, yeah. I got an email. I didn’t read much of it though.” She said. “Did you?”

“Yeah, I got one of them too.” She admitted. “Like, just now…?” She added. It must’ve been why she’d retreated to the bathroom for so long, to read it. 

She shifted off the wall, standing closer in the center of the space. “Do you… I mean, are you thinking of going?”

“I… I dunno.” Max sighed. “Part of me wants to gag at the idea, but another part of me… I dunno. I feel like… like I have to?”

“You don’t have to.” 

“I know, I know, but, it’s like- it feels like a kind of responsibility.” Max struggled to explain. “Don’t you feel that way too? Like you have to be there? Like, it feels right and you owe it to them all?”

Chloe scowled at the ground, then lessened her frown and shrugged. “Kind of.” She decided. “Kinda hard not to see all this stuff and think ‘this horrible tragedy wouldn’t even have happened if one of us wasn’t here right now’.”

Max leaned off the wall and leaned into Chloe’s space, holding her by the arms. “Don't joke about that. Everything is kinda shitty all around us, but I wouldn’t change a thing I did that day. Aren’t you-? You’re… you’re glad to be here with me, right?”

“Of course I am.” Chloe replied quickly. “Of course. Yeah. Duh. Fuck. I… sometimes it doesn’t feel real. And I mean that because everything is so ideal right now. You and me, living together someplace far away from the Bay, like we always planned. And Arcadia feels so far away now. Like it was another life. Everything is so different now, I’m really fucking different now. What would going back there even be like?”

Max dropped her hands and laughed in a way that sounded almost pathetic. “Really fucking different, probably.”

Chloe chuckled too. “You think they have a specific event?” She wondered. “Like maybe we just show up for one thing and then ditch.”

“I dunno, I didn’t read the whole thing.” Max reached into her messenger bag, fishing around her find phone. She felt her wallet and took it out so there’d be less shit in the way. There was a Polaroid at the bottom of the bag she took out too. Then she finally found her phone at the bottom. Holding her phone in one hand and her other shit in the other, she moved to put them away.

Just before she could, Chloe took the polaroid out of her hands. “Heeeello, what’s this…?”

“Chloe-“ Max shoved her wallet back in her bag and her phone in her pocket, giving Chloe just enough time to face away from Max and hold the photo high enough where Max couldn’t reach it.

She remembered what the photo was now- a selfie from ages ago, taken at a poor angle. She’d shoved it in her bag because it had fallen out of one of her old journals and she couldn’t find where it was supposed to be. She was going to sort it out later. 

“Who is she?!” Chloe marveled sarcastically as Max attempted to reach for it.

“Oh my dog. Chloe.” Max revolted, only stopped by Chloe’s hand on her face, holding her away at arms length, and her own short arms, unable to reach that high.

“Max, your friend’s hot, you should introduce us.”

“Shut up, you dick!” Max laughed. Chloe let go of her and held out the photo for Max to snatch back.

“When was that taken?” She asked with a grin.

Max bit down on her lip to hide a smile, looking over the picture again. Her smile was so wide here, so genuine. “Can’t you tell? I’m holding it in the photo.”

She held out the image for Chloe to take another look. She held Max’s wrist still. Maybe it was shaking.

“It’s a little grainy.”

“Okay, that’s a little true.” Max admitted. “It’s my Blackwell acceptance letter. This is the day I earned my Blackwell scholarship.”

Chloe smiled. “Man, if only you knew what a bust it would end up being.”

“Only some of it was a bust.” Max decided, holding the photo closer. “Some of it was nice.”

Chloe looked up. “I have a few fond memories.” She joked.

“You know why I was so happy that day?”

Chloe smiled wide and pitched her voice up. “ ‘Wowser, I can’t wait to learn all about photography from real life professionals and make tons of friends!’ “ 

“Is that supposed to be me?” Max laughed. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“It totally does.” Chloe argued playfully. “You sound exactly like that.”

Max clamped a hand over her mouth when she snorted. “Okay jackass. That wasn’t entirely it.”

“Oh?”

“Sure I was excited about the photography. I’d never been taught by anyone before. I was excited to learn more and grow as an artist.” She began. “Some of it was Blackwell itself. We grew up around it. Remember when we were kids and thought it was the most amazing thing ever? This mystical place for the smartest people in the world?”

“God, I totally remember that.” Said Chloe. “Remember how all the adults fucking hated Blackwell kids? ‘All those hipster art teens are loitering at the Two Whales! How am I supposed to drink my liver to failure at eight in the morning when the youth are taking up valuable space in my trashy local diner in my tiny-ass town’?”

Max rolled her eyes. “The truckers could be a little annoying, but we thought it was the end all be all for school type shit.”

“That we did.” Chloe agreed. “You still found it that amazing in Seattle?”

Max shrugged. “What can I say? I remember everything about Arcadia through the eyes I saw it last- a little kid’s.” She said. “I was so ready to get out of my current high school. I hated it there. I thought, maybe in a school for art, I would find other people like me. I’d… fit in better.”

“It’s… nice to have hope.” Chloe said hesitantly.

“But you know what the main thing was?” Max continued. “Arcadia Bay was where I grew up, the last place I felt like I fit in. And most of that was because you were always there. I’d been trying to get back to Arcadia… since I left, basically. I missed, like, everything about it. But mostly, I missed you. I spent years staring at my phone, hoping I’d magically know what to say to you, the exact Right Thing to say that would fix all the distance and silence I’d put between us. I thought… if I could just see you again, look you in the eyes, I’d know. You always make me feel that way. Confident, I mean. In that picture… I was excited to see you.”

Chloe smiled, though it felt private. She looked down at her toes when she did it, almost like she didn’t want Max to see how vulnerable this moment was. Then she looked back in her eyes and the vulnerability was public. She stepped into Max’s space (the bathroom was tiny as is) and held the wrist Max was using to hold the photo, right where her blue butterfly tattoo was. The touch was feather light, and the butterfly migrated to her stomach. “I know.” She said.

Max warmed from her core outward, until she felt it on her face and down to her toes. She’d noticed how close they’d gotten, but moved no farther, content to soak up all the love hanging in the air as it went unsaid, yet again.

The bathroom door opened, creaking as it did, drawing both their attention to it. It stopped before anyone would be able to see in. “Are y’all making out in there?” Tammi asked loudly.

Chloe scoffed. “No, asshole!” She announced. Max giggled.

The door opened fully. “Alright, good! We’re headed into the rehearsal room. Join us or be losers.”

“That’s really poor peer pressure.” Chloe replied.

“Okay then. Join us or die.” Tammi amended, her tone playfully spooky.

“We’re right behind you.” Max giggled.

Tammi winked, then backed out of the room, leaving them alone.

It took a moment, but Max caught her eye again. “I think we should go.” She said. “It’ll fucking suck, but if you’re okay to, I think we should.”

Chloe’s smile melted. “I think we have to, too.”

Chapter Text

When she asked, Chloe said she found the Elvis Prestly bobblehead in American Rust ages ago. The fact that it was junkyard junk didn’t stop her from pressing its head down on the dashboard and watching it spring back up over and over. As Max went to boing it’s head for the millionth time, Chloe’s hand caught her wrist.

“Max, stop bullying the king.” She requested, letting Max go and putting her hand back on the wheel. “If you really need to do something with your hands, take up smoking like a normal person.”

Max crinked her nose. “Ew.”

Chloe rolled her eyes fondly. “Fine. Then… take a picture or something, I dunno.”

“Of what? Of you?” Max asked.

Chloe smiled, glancing her way for the briefest of seconds. “If it strikes your fancy.”

Max tried to smile back, but it just wasn’t in her. “Maybe. I don’t think any photo could make me feel right out here.” She lamented, anxiety kicking around in her guts. She closer they got, the more and more this felt real. The more her head tried to disillusion the world around her to avoid facing it, the more it all deconstructed. Everything felt wrong. She felt the desire to run in the opposite way, and yet she persisted. It felt like there were ants in her skin, an itch she couldn’t scratch, a filth she couldn’t wash, making her increasingly uncomfortable and afraid.

“We’re not even there yet, and it feels like Seattle is a million years away.”

Chloe’s smile faltered too. “We’re just going to the ceremony. Then we jet. It’ll be, like, an hour.”

“I know.” Max sighed. “Wish my brain would comprehend that and leave me alone.”

Chloe paused for a moment. She looked over at Max in a side eye. “Hey.” She called. “Where are you?”

Max knew what she meant by that. Like when she says “Captain Bluebeard”, she means herself. Like how “Max Long Silver” just means Max, and the pirate ship is just their tree fort. Chloe wants to know where her mind went. It wanders, sometimes. These days more than the last. It’s a fair question.

“Here, with you.” Max replied.

“And?” Chloe prompted anyway. She already knew. 

“And I’m already at the bay.” Max admitted. “A year spent trying to focus on the future, letting the past be and accepting Arcadia as something behind me… and it feels like it’s all been undone. I can’t stop thinking about what it’ll look like when we get there, and I can’t stop seeing that… tattered… battered down town it was the last time we were there. I mean- we’re not even there yet!”

Chloe kept her eyes set on the road ahead. A good idea, since they were still driving. Even though they’d left the highway and were now on small, single lane backroads that weaved through desolate wilderness, which happened to be the type of roads that led to Arcadia. They hadn’t seen anyone in hours. 

“I’m trying not to think about it.” Chloe admitted. 

“Sorry.”

“No-! I mean, it’s okay,” Chloe corrected quickly. “I just mean…” she sighed. “There’s so much to think about. If I try to go over it all, my head might explode.”

“Yeah, I get that too.” Chloe lost her whole world that day. Max wondered what must be running through her mind right now. Old memories? Joyce? 

“I don’t know how your brain is always running, like an engine.” Chloe wondered aloud. “I can’t think about that day… the people we lost… without breaking down, like a…”

As she spoke it, the truck bagan to make odd sputtering noises- CHIK CHIK CHIK- and the car slowed.

“Shitbags!” Chloe swore. 

She swerved the truck to the side of the road as it came to a complete stop. “Are you actually kidding?”

“What happened?” Max asked.

“I don’t know!” Chloe replied, shrill and harsher than she needed to. She pulled the car into park and got out, throwing the door open hard. Max followed suit hesitantly behind.

By the time Max was out, Chloe had come around to the front of the car and opened the hood. She was coughing at the thick smoke that poured out. “Shitting shitbags of shit.”

“So, is everything okay?” Max asked.

Chloe scowled over at her. “Sure Max, it’s great.” She replied sarcastically. “Trucks are meant to have smoke pouring out of their engines.”

Max put her hands up. “I was just asking.” 

Chloe sighed. “I know. Ugh.”

Awkwardly, Max stood to the side, bearing a tree close to the side of the road. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Wind back time and tell me to double check the hood before we take off?” She joked.

“Oh ha ha.” Max drawled. She stood up, moving to stand next to Chloe to see what’s she’s seeing. On first inspection, Max didn’t see anything wrong. But then again, she doesn’t know what an engine is supposed to look like in the first place. “What’s wrong with it?”

Chloe took her hands off the engine. They were stained in greese. Not noticing, she stepped back and put a hand over her mouth and chin, like she was thinking. “Not sure. Something fell apart. But then again, something’s always falling apart on this fucking thing. It’s hella old.”

“It’s a fixer upper.” Max corrected. When Chloe turned to her, Max guided her hand from her face and held her there, hands on either side, and wiped away the black grease that had been smudged onto her cheeks and chin. “You’ll figure it out.” 

Chloe paused in the conversation, looking at Max bug eye’d- like she’d just ripped her shirt off or confessed to murder. When she let Chloe go, Max saw her mentally reboot, shake whatever was running through her mind off, and return her attention to the engine. “I just wish I knew what the fuck happened.”

“Maybe I messed around with time while you weren’t looking, and now karma’s out to get us again.” Max suggested playfully.

Chloe turned back to her, an impish grin playing on her face. “You’re not nearly dumb enough to screw us over again, dork.” On the last syllable, Chloe raised her still-grease-stained hand and lightly brushed her thumb on Max’s nose, rubbing the black grease off there. Max scrunched her face up and recoiled, knowing a smile was showcased on her there, just below the stain.

When Max opened her eyes, Chloe was already headed back to the open doors of the truck. “I think my tool box is still in here. We’ll be back on the road in no time.”

As Chloe busied herself with the car, Max rubbed the stain from her nose, but was unable to wipe off the smile. “Dork”. She repeated in her head, echoing Chloe’s voice over and over and over again until it drowned out the sounds of the storm. 

…

When Max was eleven and Chloe was twelve, Chloe convinced her they should do a blood oath where they swear to be best friends forever. She pricked both their fingers with a thumbtack from her corkboard and they taped their fingers together with masking tape.

The pin pricks had barely bled, and Max knew it wouldn’t have hurt all that much even beforehand. It had felt like such a good idea when Chloe proposed it. She’d been excited for it, but also anxious, afraid of the hurt she knew she’d feel. Chloe said it would only last an instant. And she was right. 

When they untaped their hands, Max assumed she was in the clear. It was over, there would be no more hurt, and it had been worth it.

She’d been wrong.

When Max went home, her parents saw the bandaid on her hand and, like an idiot, Max told them what’d happened. Then they’d lectured her for ten minutes or more about how she was going to get AIDS and die. Then she’d been grounded, and unable to hang out with Chloe for a week. That had hurt much more than the little pin prick. The hurt she’d anticipated wasn’t at all the hurt she’d received.

That was a lot like returning to Arcadia Bay. 

She’d been anxious all week leading up to the day. With medications and meditation apps, Max had been doing better in the sleep department recently. But this week had been her undoing. She had barely slept a wink, and when she did fall, it was a fitful sleep. She kept imagining the worst for when they finally arrived at the bay. 

She could tell Chloe had been taking it similarly. Blasting a lot of music (asking Max if she minded, and why would she?), having difficulty keeping up with work at her internship, refusing to talk to Max about it. Chloe only ever refused that when she was really messed up over something. 

Max was almost excited to get back to Arcadia just to stop the anxiety and paranoid fluttering in overdrive in her head and stomach. Arrive for the ceremony, leave. It would hurt, but it would just be a pinprick. It would be over quickly. 

On the road back, past the “Welcome to Arcadia Bay” sign, there was traffic down the entire single lane road. Max had never seen traffic in Arcadia before. It just wasn’t the kind of town that would ever have traffic. Who’s coming to sleepy nowhere Arcadia Bay? 

But it appeared like a lot of people had the same idea as Max and Chloe, because it was backed up all the way down to where they’d need to park. 

Chloe glowered into her steering wheel. “Jesus fucking Christ. How many people need to drive down today? I mean, seriously! It’s like everyone who’d ever heard of the storm and their mothers are here.”

Max didn’t gratify that with a response. She knew Chloe was just on edge. Let her steam if it makes her feel better. Max wants her to feel better. And she feels weirdly happy to see so many survivors make their way back to a dying town to say good wishes.

The town itself- what Max had been dreading- looked… different. There were a lot of empty plots of land where Max knew things used to be. Their elementary school was completely gone. There was a stretch of mossy grass land where it used to be. It looked gross and muddy, like if she stepped down on the dirt there her feet would sink. Maybe the misty gray sky overhead wasn’t helping with that visualization.

There was a white picket sign in the plot of land, something printed on it that Max couldn’t make out from this distance. There must be plans to build something else there.

There were lots of empty spaces on roads, places where sidewalk was missing and where the roads were re-paved or completely dug up and they had to take alternate routes. 

But then there was the new buildings. Places that Max recognized that had been fixed up. Places on the edge of town that hadn’t gotten the worst of the storm, that had their structure intact in the aftermath, that had been refurbished and restored. The farther inland they got, the more new shit they saw. Fancy new big houses. Storefronts that looked modern and unrecognizable. 

There was so little places now. So few buildings. And the closer to the shore they got, the more rubble and damage left behind that remained they could find. The work was far from over.

Most prominently, Max saw the Pan Estates logo and titles on nearly everything. Down backed up streets that various people guided them down, there were plenty of signs and posters for the events today, and just generalized promotion for the company. Dwight had a point the other day… rich white dudes. Max hated to think about it, but would Arcadia Bay be at this stage or rebuilding if not for the Prescotts and their rich people money?

This wasn’t Arcadia Bay. The familiarity, nostalgia, tight-packed homey nature of small town-ness was missing. It was like someone had taken Arcadia Bay and hollowed it out like a pumpkin on Halloween. It was empty now. It was quiet. 

Max and Chloe were directed through traffic by many volunteers until they reached an empty lot they’d repurposed as a parking lot for the event. It was late in the evening, and they’d gotten here later than expected because of their roadside delay, but they still had a little while before the main event. 

When they were both out of the truck, Chloe asked her; “What do you wanna do first? Head over to the event right now or find something to eat?”

Max paused for a moment. “I didn’t recognize a single restaurant on the drive over here.” She realized. “Did you?”

Chloe pursed her lips. “You think they’ll be catering at the event or…?”

“After you.” Max offered. 

She saw how tight Chloe’s shoulders were, raised up to her ears. Tense, anxious. Giving the control over to her would make her feel more comfortable. Max knew enough about Chloe to know her tells, and how to ease her tension. Chloe gave a tight smile, and Max followed her out of the parking lot.

People were parked nearly bumper to bumper, and Max had to wonder how they were getting out. 

There wasn’t a sidewalk, so they had to follow a crowd down the side of the road, at times walking on damp grass. The sky was a very gloomy gray, and Max couldn’t help but feel that emotion wash over her. It weighed her down like rainwater on thick clothes; dread. She wasn’t sure if this was a good idea anymore. 

As they trailed after and around- within- a crowd, Chloe bat her on the side to draw her attention to an empty plot of land. The only remaining thing there was a schoolyard playground, the mulch displaced and collected around the rest of the plot- buried in the earth and between blades of grass. The monkey bars were bent and many of the nearby trees were uprooted and displaced. One large oak tree remained, looming high over the play area, it’s thick trunk reminded Max of how she used to hide here to avoid her peers as a child.

“That used to be our old elementary school.” Chloe told her. 

Max knew, she’d recognized it when they were driving in. She and Chloe paused in their motion, making others walk around them. “It looks so empty now.” Max said. “We met here.”

“Yeah, like, five hundred years ago.” Chloe snorted.

“It does feel like a lifetime ago.” Max agreed. “Do you even remember how we met? I mean, I know it was kindergarten and it was during recess one day, but do you actually remember it?”

Chloe pursed her lips. “Uh… wow. No. I don’t think I do.” She said, as though she was surprising herself. “Feels like I just woke up one day and you’d always been there.”

“I know what you mean.” Max said, her voice more uneven then she would’ve liked. She was trying to keep herself together. If she could just make it through the next few hours, she’d be alright. “Kinda feels like I’ve always known you, but I know that, logically, we must’ve actually met each other.”

Chloe smirked. “I bet I just walked up to you one day and said ‘you wanna be best friends?’ And the rest was history.”

Max chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” She agreed. “When we get back, we should ask my parents. Maybe they remember.”

“You think that’s likely?” Chloe asked dubiously.

Max shrugged. “Nah, probably not.”

Chloe looked back off to the playground, the swings, still attached despite it all, swinging in the light breeze. “I wish Joyce was still here. She would’ve known, I bet.”

Max’s heart clenched. Chloe addressed her mom by her first name enough that it didn’t feel weird. But the way she said it now… it sounded the same way you’d say “mom”. She didn’t look back over ar Max.

“Are you thinking about her?”

“Yeah.” Chloe sighed. “Being here, I guess. Never thought I’d miss this place. You know. The way it was… before.”

Max wasn’t sure if the touch would be wanted, but she reached her hand out anyway to lay it over her arm. Chloe didn’t pull away to show any signs of distaste. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Only then did Chloe shake her off, taking a step away from her and toward where the crowd was headed. “Not right now.” She said quickly, vulnerability from before wiped clean, brushed back under the surface once more. “Let’s just keep moving.”

Max raised an eyebrow, wordlessly asking “are you sure?” knowing Chloe would be able to read it. 

“Seriously, I’m fine.” Chloe repeated, harsher.

Max nodded in kind, letting Chloe brush her off and keep moving. Being back here was already making her irritable. Max knew that stress and longing manifested as anger sometimes for Chloe, and she knew not to push things with her. All that would do is make Chloe snap at her. Chloe’s not the kind of person you can nudge into talking, she talks when she’s ready, not before. And Max knows how to respect that. 

She just hopes things don’t get worse for either of them today. Being here again… it must be bringing up all kinds of memories for Chloe. It certainly was for Max. Just looking out into that torn up playground, Max remembers squealing and running around, making up games and playing pirates with Chloe at recess all those years ago. She wonders what memories come to Chloe’s mind. Are they just as bittersweet?

Cars are still backed up all the way along the roads, and their blind following of the crowd doesn't lead them astray. Eventually they reach a very large empty plot of land, reduced to a wide meadow. It was littered with picnic tables and large signs advertising “The Prescott Arcadia Bay Memorial”. 

“Way to make it all about you, asshole.” Chloe murmured when they stopped walking to stand beside one.

People were milling about in the big space. More people than Max would’ve thought. Some of the tables had food- snacks in bowls, and dinner items in metal trays. Some had pamphlets that Max had to assume were informational, and others still had things you could buy or places to donate. In the middle was something tall and rectangular covered by a sheet. It was on a small brick platform that looked vaguely familiar…

No, that was- there used to be a statue outside of Blackwell. This looked like the same foundation, the little brick platform that had rested at the center of the fountain in Blackwell’s front lawn. Actually, now that Max looked around, she was able to see more signs of her old school. Some of the pavement and sidewalks remained, if not overgrown by tall grass with chunks of it torn from the ground. Few trees remained where she remembered them. The levels of ground, connected by concrete stairs, were still elevated even if the stairs seemed to be gone. If Max looked past where the fountain was, she could see the foundation of the academy’s main building still there and overgrown. Yellow police tape was placed around it, containing all the people and the event to where the front lawn would have been. And past that, Max could see the parking lot, completely filled with cars. 

There’s no way the storm had lifted the entire academy off its foundations and into the air. Chunks of it must have gotten ripped out and trashed all along the bay. Enough of it was ruined that it was deemed non salvageable and no one had attempted to rebuild it yet. What reminded was dug out, and left to overgrowth and decay. 

Max felt a pang of sympathy for the old Academy. Maybe not all her experiences here were good, but… it was still sad to see this place like this.

Max tugged Chloe’s arm to share her observation. “Chloe. Do you see where we are?”

Chloe nodded, tight lipped. “Yeah, I noticed.” She replied. “Holy fuck. I mean, I always kinda hated this place, but it’s still hella weird to see it like this.”

“Yeah.” Max agreed solemnly. She wasn’t sure how to explain the odd aching in her chest, so she decided not to. The wash of the sky was still murky, but turning burgundy and deep orange brown colors. Nearing the golden hour past darkened cloudy skies. “It’s getting late. Did you… want to go check out the food tables?”

Chloe perked up. “There’s food tables? Where’d you see that?”

Max pointed along the way. 

Chloe nodded, heading off in that direction without any further consultation. “They better have pizza. I’m starving.”

As Max trailed after her, she revisited the thought of just how many people were here. She couldn’t recognize all that many of them. Some she recognized vaguely as truckers that used to frequent the Two Whales. Maybe she didn’t know most of them because she’d only had a month to relearn the town and it’s people before… well. But still, this many people… it was making her hair stand on end. She hated how on edge this was making her, but she couldn’t help but rake her gaze along the crowd gathered as they passed, afraid to turn her back on them… just in case.

“Chloe?” 

Chloe turned back around, like she expected that to be Max’s voice calling for her. It took her a second, but she noticed the boy with thick glasses waving over at her. Max didn’t know him. Did Chloe?

She saw him when Max did, and recognition lit in her eyes. She gestured for Max to continue following her as she rushed over to him. The boy had been with an older man, since he held resemblance Max assumed it was his dad. He broke off from him to walk over to Chloe.

“Holy shit, Mikey?” Chloe exclaimed when they met in the middle. “The hell are you doing here?”

“Same as you, apparently.” He said. “Dude, where the hell have you been? Even before all this shit, I hadn’t seen you for months.”

Chloe crossed her arms, though Max wasn’t inclined to think she was actually upset. “Me? Bitch, we graduated sophomore year and you never fucking showed up to school again. What do you mean what happened to me?”

The boy- Mikey- frowned. “It’s- I mean, you know what happened.”

“Not really.” Said Chloe. “Steph told me you guys had some kind of ‘financial thing’ and dropped out.” She looked over Mikey’s shoulder, like she was expecting someone else to walk up behind him. “Speaking of, is she here? I mean, she isn’t…”

Mikey shook his head. “Nope. She’s fine, I’d know. During the… you know, we were together. But after that…” he sighed. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with her for months. She kinda dropped off the face of the planet. I was gonna ask you if you’d heard from her.”

“Not a word.” Chloe replied.

Max had to pause and think for a moment. This was clearly one of Chloe’s old friends from Blackwell. Statistically, there was no way everyone Max knew from Blackwell was… gone. If Chloe ran into someone she knew, was it possible people Max knew were also here?

“And you didn’t answer my question.” Chloe insisted. “What ‘financial issues’?”

Maybe that meant Kate was here. This was absolutely Kate’s scene. If she looked, Max was sure she’d be able to find her by the donation tables. Max should’ve contacted her before coming, but she hadn’t contacted Kate recently, or at all. It had always been Kate reaching out to Max, never the other way around.

It wasn’t Kate’s fault, and it was a stupid reason, but thinking about Kate made Max think about the last few times she saw her in person- the roof, the desperation clawing at her throat, the emptiness in her eyes. The hospital, the smell of chemicals and white walls, white floors, anxiety in her chest and in her head, telling her that it wasn’t over yet, the danger was still present. Uncovering the dark room, opening red binders until photos of Kate were revealed, posed and out of it, Max shuttered. It wasn’t Kate’s fault, but Max hated thinking about it. Kate was so nice and sweet, and Max felt awful when she was around her. 

Mikey sighed. “You know. After that whole thing with Damon and having to pay for hospital bills… it was kind of a big toll on us. Then Drew graduated and went off to college… even though he was in a football scholarship, it was a lot more than Blackwell was. We couldn’t afford for me to attend Blackwell and for him to go to college, so. I just transferred to a nearby high school to finish off.”

If Max saw Kate, should she go say hi? Or would it be unbearably awkward? This day was already putting Max on edge, would seeing Kate make it worse? Or would she see that her worries were blown out of proportion and not a big deal at all?

Chloe frowned. “Damn. I can't believe I didn’t know that.” She said. “I only knew what Steph told me, that you were going somewhere else now. Had no idea it was tied to Damon. Why didn’t Steph know? She was your best friend.”

That’s to assume Kate was here at all. Maybe she wasn’t. The crowd was so big, even if she was here, Max may not see her at all. 

Mikey shrugged. “No one was really supposed to know about that shit, you just got lucky to be there that day.”

Maybe she would run into someone completely different. Maybe she would run into Victoria. 

“I guess.” Chloe said. “Sorry I kinda dropped off halfway through junior year. I just kinda…”

Though this wasn’t exactly Victoria’s scene, really, there’s no reason for her not to be here. She’d suffered through a lot during that storm too. 

“No point without Rachel, I get it.” Said Mikey. Maybe he didn’t notice how Chloe wintered because of that name, but Max did. “I’m sure you heard what happened, huh?”

But did Max want to see Victoria? She wasn’t worried Victoria would be a bitch or anything, after all that’s happened, Max doubted she was the same. No one was the same, not even Max. But that was just it- she must have changed so much. What had happened that night that landed her in the hospital, Max knew what they’d likely end up talking about. Even if Victoria was one of the few people in the world that may understand what Max had gone through, she can’t imagine talking about that now. Not while today was today, not when they were where they were. 

“Yeah.”

“Beyond fucked up.” Mikey agreed, scowling. “I almost wish the fucker that did this was here so I could punch his face in.”

Oh god, did that make sense? Did it make sense for Jefferson to be here? He had lived through the storm too. Yeah he was in jail, but Max didn’t know everything about the law in Oregon. Was it possible that he was allowed to attend these things? Maybe with an anklet or guards making sure he didn’t run off. It sounded a little far fetched, but now that Max had thought it, she could un- think it. 

What if Jefferson was here right now? What if- out of all the people she could run into- she ran into Jefferson? Max isn’t sure what she would do.

All at once, she was all too aware of the amount of people around her. Too many. He could be among them and she wouldn’t know it. Any of them, really, could have ill intent towards her and she wouldn’t be able to know. Max would trade in her useless power of rewind for mind reading any day. 

She hated this feeling- the way she felt when she was reapplying for her job at the pottery studio she worked at now, where she had to watch a few videos and read a few articles about pedophilia in the workplace and how to prevent it. She’d done all this before, but the feeling she got now made her turn her computer off and reconsider the whole job. The feeling she got when she had to stop watching Kill La Kill as it was airing in January, earlier this year, because of a single scene she couldn’t make herself watch. She remembered being so excited for the show to air. She used to really like it. 

The feeling that made her insides go cold, her eyes cast around, so afraid she’d be caught unaware. Like she was in the thick of it still- she had to make another jump to reach safety, she had to push onwards to make it to the end of her dream. There was more to do- she wasn’t safe here. 

She didn’t feel safe. She felt gross. There must be an invisible lining of dirt and grease caked to her skin, disgusting and dried and she itched to scrape it off. She felt exposed here, as though she was naked. She tried to take a deep breath to brush it off, but it remained, sticking her to skin like the horrible muck she knew must be there. She took another breath, but that did nothing to stop how reality around her started to slip from her gasp- the ground beneath her, the girl beside her and the boy she was talking to- nameless faces. She wanted to get out of here.

Chloe had looked back to her, Max wasn’t sure why. 

“Who’s your friend?” The boy said.

“This is Max.” Chloe put a hand on her shoulder and it sent a shock through her system. She shook the touch off.

“Cool. Uh, I’m Mikey.” He said. The words echoed meaninglessly through her ears. Who? “I went to Blackwell with Chloe.”

“Max?” That was Chloe, too loud. Why was she so close to her ear? She flinched. It was hard to focus her attention on Chloe when she felt the itch to keep vigilant. She darted her eyes around, restless. These people around her, were they even people? She was becoming less and less aware of life, of others, while at the same time painfully on high alert.

“You okay?” The boy asked again. “You look a little pale. I mean- not like as an insult or anything, but…”

“I’m- ‘s okay.” Max replied. Her voice sounded detached from her mouth, like she could have been speaking from anywhere. Had she even said that out loud? She closed her hands into fists, fingernails digging into her palms. Was it possible to feel everything and nothing, all at once? She felt as though all eyes were on her, that any one of the people by them could pose a danger, yet also as though all the people around them were fake- mindless Barbie dolls whose faces all blurred together.

“Max.” Chloe said again, firmer. She said something else to her friend, something Max didn’t quite catch, and then Chloe’s hands were on her again- her shoulder and arm- and Max jolted again, protesting against the contact. 

But Chloe persisted, using force to pull her away and drag her elsewhere. People’s faces blurred by, and Max was more preoccupied by them and keeping them in her eyesight as Chloe relented to only holding her hand, saying something Max didn’t quite catch, as they passed tables and loud conversations that smudged together like charcoal. 

He heart pounded with the perceived threat of eminent danger, even as they passed through to where no one else was, past the grass and into dark blacktop pavement. Max knew she must be staring hard at the environment around her. Things moved with a strangeness that made it all feel fake, like she was playing a first person shooter game. Max couldn’t quite believe she was supposed to be here. She nearly forgot about her friend until the pressure on her hand was gone and then touch was returned to either one of her sides, trying to push her down to sit. 

Max was unbalanced enough to give in, sitting on a high curb. Standing in front of her was still Chloe, but with her mind as splintered as it had become, Max blinked away, unable to tell if this was a threat or not. It all felt like threats now. Maybe it would be easier to tell what was reality and what wasn’t if Max wasn’t some kind of reality hopping time traveler that had broken down what was real many times over. Max wondered if she could trust her own senses when Chloe sat down beside her, the fabric of their jeans touching at the thighs.

Reality felt permeable, and so it felt odd when something proved itself to exist. It felt flakey, unsubstantial. No one was real, not even Max. So when Chloe threw her arms around her, squeezed her tighter than any hug was meant to be- Max jolted in sensation that shouldn’t exist. It was out of place. It was real- and it almost hurt. It was real, it would not float away or evaporate into thin air- it was grounding.

Max tried blinking, though motion felt impossible. Her eyes felt pasted on. There was no one here. Max still lived her head, trying to swivel around to check even though she knew there was no one. Someone could be hiding in their car, waiting for an opportune moment. What if Jefferson showed up now? While they were alone? They were vulnerable out here. 

Max kept trying to blink it away. She knew she was being irrational, but it didn’t feel that way. She tried shifting about, even minutely, just to test the physical sensation around her. This was real. The person holding onto her was real. That shocked her into a physical sense of reality, but did nothing to slow her heart. She didn’t feel safe.

She became aware that Chloe was talking. How she hadn’t heard that before was odd, but now that she knew it was happening, it was still hard to tune into it. She heard her own name every once in a while, but it sounded weird. It very well could have been coming from her own head. 

“Max?” It said. “Max?”

“Yeah.” Max replied.

“… Arms kinda hurt. Are you okay?”

Max took a rewind to process that. What did that mean. What. “What?”

“Are you okay?” She repeated. It sounded clearer now.

“Maybe.” Max said. 

“Well, you’re talking.” Chloe reasoned. She drifted to hold Max from a farther distance, and the touch loosened. Oh- yeah that did probably hurt her arms. “How's everything feeling? Uh, am I asking that right? I don’t know…”

“Um.” Max said. It was taking too long to understand what Chloe was saying. “I dunno. I’m… fine, I guess.”

“Do you… uh… need me to do anything?” She asked. It sounded awkward.

“Uh. No?” She wasn’t sure. This should make more sense than it did. This should be simple.

“Okay…” Chloe let go of her, returning her hands to her sides. “I remember that’s worked before. Like, that one time in that car, and when we went to the museum…”

“Yeah.” Max remembered. Those things were real. And so was Chloe. And where they were… “Why are we in Blackwell’s parking lot?”

“It’s, uh, I just took us away from everyone.” Said Chloe. “So you could, y’know, be away from people, and… um, sorry for dragging you around, but it felt like you couldn’t hear me and I know you needed to get out of there, so…”

“It’s fine.”

“It just felt like you didn’t want me touching you, and I didn’t know what to do-“

“No, Chloe, it was fine.” Max said. Maybe she was lying a little, it hadn’t felt great at the time. Like she was being shocked from her senses. But she wasn’t upset at Chloe, and she felt better now. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Chloe sighed. “Good. You feeling better, Maximus?”

In truth, she felt a little fake. Untethered. But she was feeling better in comparison to mere seconds ago. “Yeah, I think so.” She looked over her shoulder. The parking lot was empty. It was empty. So why wouldn’t her heart stop pounding?

Chloe nodded. Max could make out her movements better now. She hadn’t even noticed, but her paranoia had been drowned out. That itch was gone. Though she still felt gross. She tried desperately not to think about him, but-

“I think maybe coming here was a mistake-“

“- Do you know the leniency of pardons from prison in Oregon?”

Max and Chloe stared at each other, having spoken at the same time. Chloe giggled, and the sound of it was so adorable, Max could feel something in her chest. A flutter. That was very real. She found herself smiling too.

“Why would I know the Oregon state prison laws?” Chloe rasped.

“What if…” Max continued to her beating heart. “Jefferson. What if he’s here?”

“What?” Chloe asked a little more seriously.

“What if he’s here, Chloe?” She asked again. 

“Max, girl, he’s locked up.” Chloe reminded her. “How would-?”

“But what if he is?” Max insisted. “He was affected by the storm too, I don’t know the laws, what if he-?!”

“Max, Max, hon,” Chloe held onto her again, fingers digging into her shoulders. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Did you just call me ‘hon’?” Max asked, the oddity of it startling her from her original thought.

Chloe seemed to pause too. Creeping red filled her cheeks. “Did I?”

“You did.” Said Max. “That was so Joyce.”

Chloe bit down on her lip. Max anticipated the sarcastic response, but Chloe appeared to hesitate. She shifted to face out into the parking deck, looking out into the distance. Max wondered if mentioning her mom was a mistake. Chloe leaned up against her side, head resting against Max’s, her warmth seeping onto her dull green flannel. 

After enough silence had passed, Max spoke. “It does sound stupid out loud.” She admitted.

“It’s not.” Chloe replied lightly. “You freaked out because of what Mikey said?”

“No- I mean, maybe.” Max stuttered. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You think a thing and then you just keep thinking it,” Chloe phrased, “I know. But it’s- I mean, we’re safe, Max.”

“Sorry for freaking you out and making you ditch your friend.”

“It’s fine, man.”

Max leaned more fully into her side so they were flush up against each other. “You… you said coming here was a mistake?”

Max felt Chloe shrug against her. “I thought… I dunno. That this thing would be some kind of closure thing. That we could close this chapter and feel better about the whole thing, but… feels like it’s only making shit worse.”

“I don’t know, I mean, I think we should still see it out.” Said Max. “I don’t want to ruin-“

Chloe leaned off her to catch her eye. “No, no you’re not-“

“No, I mean, that’s not what I meant, I-“ Max cut herself off. “I just meant… I think we should see what happens. The day’s not over yet, we still have the rest of the event. Maybe…” Max shifted in her seat, facing Chloe fully. “Maybe at the end of it all, we’ll get that closure. I know I want it too.”

Chloe looked at her uncertainly. “You sure? Think you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” Max assured her, even though she couldn’t be sure of that. 

Chloe sighed, seeing right through her, then she chose not to say anything about it. She looked back out into the parking lot. Max’s gaze wandered out there with her. She knew where she was sitting. 

“It’s weird to be here.” Chloe said, taking the words right from her mouth. “Weird. Right over there-“ she pointed out ahead, to their left- “was where I saw you again for the first time in five years.”

She remembered that. Where they’re sitting now, Juliet had been sulking after finding out about her boyfriend that same day. Just moments before.

Max smiled. “Funny. When I think about us reuniting, I think about earlier, in the bathroom.” She said. “But I guess you wouldn’t, huh?”

“You think about when you saved me, and I think about when I saved you.” Chloe grinned. “Funny how that works.”

“I like yours better.”

Max watched Chloe take a deep breath, in and then out. “Are you okay to head back?”

Was Max okay? No, not really. Everything still felt fuzzy around the edges. The prospect of returning to the crowded area made her fill with dread. Max looked away from the parking deck, back to Chloe. “Are you alright?”

Chloe blinked in surprise. “Am I… yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Mikey, when he mentioned Rachel… and just now, when I mentioned Joyce… I know you don’t like thinking about it or talking about it, but-“

“No, it’s- I’m fine.” Chloe insisted. “It’s kinda hard not to think about it all when we’re here.”

“We can talk about it, if you want.”

Chloe snorted. “If we open that can of worms, we’ll be here all day.” She put her palms on her thighs and stood up, then held a hand out to Max. “C’mon. It’s almost over.”

Max took the hand, let Chloe pull her up, and followed her back to the front lawn. She looked over her shoulder once, seeing the white Toyota parked where Warren’s retro car had been a year ago today. And she carried on.

They stepped up onto the lawn again, and Max heard the sounds of people milling about, talking. She stopped on the edge, caught in a sudden wave of anxiety. Chloe stopped to look back at her. “Did you want to go find your friend again?” Max asked.

“Uh, maybe we should-“

Microphone feedback sounded, and Max flinched, reacting to cover her ears. She looked around to find the source of the notice and stopped at a man standing by the… whatever it was, under the tarp. 

“That must be Sean Prescott.” Chloe reasoned.

“Good evening everyone, and welcome to…”

“Oh, it’s starting.” Max startled upon realization.

“Do you want to get closer?”

“We probably should.”

Max reached for her hand again, and they walked across the lawn. 

“… and we all appreciate your attendance and support, and especially your generous donations.” Sean Prescott was saying as they approached. 

They stopped before the crowd. Max tried to pay attention, but her eyes jumped to the people around her. She didn’t recognize anyone, not even the boy Chloe had been talking with before. Max felt guilty about it now, they were just starting to catch up.

“This is a difficult time of year for every single one of us. Those of us still living here know that all too well. We’ve been rebuilding, getting closer and closer to bringing back Arcadia Bay from the dead. Not just the town you once knew- no, but bigger. Better. We’ll blow Arcadia out of the water, so to speak. Generate attractions, people will come running to this little bay town faster than you’d ever imagined.”

Chloe scoffed. “Oh fucking blow me.”

“If you aren’t in the know, the first thing we’re dedicating our force to is the rebuilding of Blackwell Academy.” He continued. Max’s eyes shot up. She shared a surprised look with Chloe. “Blackwell has a reputation for producing the best and brightest, and once it’s rebuilt, the traction it will receive will plug back into the town, generating revenue to increase production, allowing us to rebuild even faster!”

There was a round of scattered applause. “Is he serious?” Max asked in a low voice. 

“Seems that way.”

“Of course, the actual construction will start soon, but as a gift to both the new school and a remembrance of the past, I will now unveil…” Behind him, several people came up to the covered structure behind him and yanked the tarp off. It took effort, apparently it was heavier than it looked, but it was soon revealed to be a large slab of stone. Dark marble, likely, in a thin, tall, rectangular shape. There was inscriptions in it that Max couldn’t read from here. “The centerpiece of what will be our new Blackwell Academy, a memorial wall; naming every person we lost to the storm.”

Max covered her mouth. She wasn’t sure how to react to that, or how to feel. She ran cold, enough so that she thought she might shiver. But she didn’t dare speak. 

A soft round of applause sounded, and Sean Prescott continued. “As we move forward and our reimagining of Arcadia Bay, we can’t forget to look back, too. That is why this memorial will stand tall at the center of this fine school.”

Applause sounded off again. A woman dressed neatly that Max didn’t know came up onto the platform with Sean, whispering something to him. He smiled and waved to the crowd, then stepped aside as the woman spoke into the microphone. “We’re moving into the closing ceremony. Please come to the front and get a candle. Just one, please, there’s enough for everyone. Then we’ll make our march down to the beach. Thank you.”

Max watched several volunteers holding large cardboard boxes stand down the platform where the woman was, as others made their way over. Chloe put a hand on her shoulder. “I get ours, stay here.”

Max didn’t have enough time to remind her that the woman had literally just said “only one” before Chloe jogged into the mass of people. She tried to keep an eye on Chloe but lost her quickly. She tried to dial back the swirling thoughts in her mind, reminding herself that everyone here was a mourner, just like her.

Strangely, the memorial hadn’t had the emotional impact she’d feared it would. She felt like she was treading on ice, but still treading, head above the water. She’d made it through the thrill of the evening. She just needed to close it off and they could go home. The worst was over, and it was just a pinprick.

Chloe returned with the candles, already lit, and soon everyone around her was walking down the streets in one big group. Max didn’t like the compactness of it, but she tried to focus on the warmth in her hand and her best friend beside her instead. 

The walk was long, and people chattered all around her. They talked about a lot of things. The food, their plans for leaving, thoughts about the memorial, loss. Max didn’t speak at all, and Chloe didn’t try to talk to her.

As they walked, she saw the areas around her pass her by. From empty plots of land to new shops and homes, to wreckage squared off by yellow tape. 

The golden hour passed them, and the sky grew dark, and Max started to hear the lapping of waves ahead. She could see the lighthouse in the distance, still cut down to half it’s original size.

The crowd and her own height made it hard to see the beach up ahead, but they were soon ahead of it. The sand crunched under her feet and she could see the beach on either side of her.

What had she been expecting? Not this.

The entire stretch of the beach was covered with garbage. Wooden planks, torn mailboxes and signs, cars and chunks of roofs, piled up and dirtying the shore. It was clear that some effort had been made to get rid of the wreckage, but they weren’t done yet.

The beach was ruined. The hours and hours of her life playing all up and down this shore… she couldn’t imagine that little girl here now. All at once, Max realized that Arcadia was gone. Nothing about this place was Arcadia Bay anymore. This was an empty nest. 

It was hard not to think about all they’d lost. The ghost of Arcadia seemed to be staring them in the face all day. Grief rocked her like she was a ship at sea, and she had been trying to ignore the bubbling guilt. There was nothing she could’ve done. Max had known this, she’d accepted it long ago. The whole point of her powers was to learn to accept her past, her mistakes, not to dwell on them, and instead move into the future unburdened. She was trying to live by that message now, not allow herself to get so stuck in the past and what she could have done better. It’s less of that, and more of seeing the survivors.

She didn’t feel such guilt for the deaths (guilt, yes absolutely, but she was able to reasonably shut down her sense of responsibility for causing them). For the living? She had caused their pain. If they knew- if any number of them knew- would they hate her? Would they ever understand her decision? Max had brought so much pain to Arcadia. They deserved to hate her. 

She watched as a child wept into the arms of an older woman, a man bring a candle back to his left relative with shaking hands, two younger ladies looking out to sea, one’s hands balled into fists. She didn’t want to cause pain. And yet she kept doing it. 

That dream version of her, she had a point. Max kept trying to help, but she wasn’t a helping kind of person. She was a selfish person. She was clumsy. When she tried to help… what did she ever really accomplish but fuck things up worse? 

Max tried to keep herself small, since that day. Abandoned the use of her power. She used to think her actions didn’t matter. That she didn’t matter. Now she saw that her actions had more consequence than she knew how to deal with. It was better to completely forget her abilities, better to live in the moment, as horrible as this moment was. 

Guilt pounded in her head. Your fault. Your fault. It seemed to say. She’d taken a knife to her own childhood. Her entire life- all of th good bits of her entire life was fucking gone. Her childhood home, Chloe’s house, the Two Whales diner, their old schools, the lighthouse, every restaurant, every convince store, every silly little landmark, their old treehouse, even the trademark of Arcadia- the bay itself. Ruined. Dismantled. Gone. 

Not just for herself, but hundreds of others. All that had gathered here. How many lives had she ruined? How many best friends had been sacrificed so Max could keep hers?

Fresh grief for it clawed in her chest, stopping her in her tracks. The people ahead of her gathered, gently placing their candles in the water, murmuring the names of lost loved ones.

Samantha.

Dallas.

Tanaya.

Mavis.

Frank.

Paula.

Kelly.

Marlon.

Emma.

Joyce.

Her throat tightened, heart pounding, she froze in place. Her familiar inclination to inaction. The weight of guilt was Max’s burden to bear. She’d bore it well, and for a long time, but it was so heavy. And at a climax, she froze.

Chloe froze some place ahead of her. “Max?”

“I can’t do this.” Max realized. She could not hang onto the past, she knew she shouldn’t, and yet she wasn’t able to let it go, let it drift away with the tide. It knotted in her chest like a restraint.

Chloe came back to her, put a gentle hand on her arm to guide her away. “The beach is gross anyway.”

When Max and Chloe had done that blood oath thing, Max had expected the prick of the thumbtack to be what hurt the most. If this day was comparable to that, the unveiling of the memorial was the pinprick. Seeing the beach was the stern lecture from her parents.

The gravity of it all came to her at that moment. Max tried so hard to implement the lessons she’d learned. She wanted to be able to put the past behind her, she wanted to be less hard on herself. But how do you go on after handing the blood of thousands in your hands? 

It was selfish, but Max wished there was a way to just leave it all behind. Take the guilt off her shoulders and just breathe. 

…

It’s dark, and the world feels still. It’s like they’re in an oil painting, preserved and impossibly posed. Staged. None of it feels real.

Max knows she’s sitting in the back on Chloe’s trunk. She’s tried, but neither of them have tried to leave town yet. It’s bound to happen, it’s late, but not too late to start driving and neither of them want to stay here overnight. 

She can tell Chloe’s on edge too. How she’s held it together this far, Max has no idea. She wished she were able to push away thoughts like Chloe was able to. 

Their candles sat extinguished in a trash can somewhere probably, Max can’t remember what Chloe did with them. They hadn’t been able to leave their mark on this event like everyone else. It was the crowd, the location, the guilt. She hated feeling this way. She wanted to leave a mark here, prove they’d been. This day took place. It was real and Max wanted something to cement them in reality. 

“Hey Chloe?” She looks up when Max calls for her, listening to the song blasting from the car’s radio. “Do you have your graffiti pens on you?”

…

It’s still dark when Max and Chloe check all around them to make sure no one’s there when they sneak back onto Blackwell’s abandoned campus. It feels like last year, sneaking Max in and out of the dorms and classrooms. Like David might bust them if they’re not careful. 

“You think they’ll be able to trace it back to us?” Chloe asked when they approached the memorial wall. Slab. Thing.

“How many Max and Chloe’s do you know?” Max replied. “It’s not like we have unique names. That’s half the fun of it, right?”

Chloe had lit up when Max suggested tagging their names here. “Max Caulfield, what did I do to that poor, innocent child?” She laughed. “So corrupted now.”

Max lifted her phone flashlight up to under light her face. “Trust me, I was never all that innocent. Maybe I corrupted you.” She suggested, kneeling down to the bottom of the wall.

“Personally, I blame Tammi and the crew.” Chloe countered, joining Max on the ground. “We were both saints until we met them.”

“Oh, totally.” Max snickered. Chloe handed her a pen, and Max busied herself with uncapping it. “They love you, y’know.”

“So they should. I’m fuckin amazing, and super loveable.” Chloe preened dryly.

“You are.” Max replied earnestly.

She expected banter- as that’s what they’d been doing, but maybe Max messed up because Chloe didn’t hit her back. She blinked over at Max owlishly, like she didn’t know what to do or where to go with that. Did Max mess up? Chloe looked like she wanted to say something. It took several attempts, Max saw her trying to phrase and re-phrase it in her head, but eventually, she said; “Maybe it’s us being here. Maybe it’s… maybe it just feels like it’s time, but… but I think I need to. Uh. To say something.”

Max raised her eyebrows. Not totally what she expected, but alright. “Okay. What’s up?”

Her eyes hit the floor. “Thank you.” She said. “It’s been a whole-ass year, and I don’t think I’ve said it, but… thank you. For everything. It’s feels ridiculous that we haven’t talked about this, you saved my life.”

Max shook her head furiously. “No, Chloe, you don’t have to thank me. This isn’t really a ‘thank you’ situation.”

“No, I mean- I don’t just mean saving me from the storm it’s… it’s more than that.” She tried to explain. “These past few months, it’s been- I mean, ever since you’ve shown up, come back in my life again, it’s just been- I dunno. Everything’s better when you’re around. You showed up on a random Monday and ever since you were this… this consistent source of comfort and trust, and you kept showing me generosity and careful consideration, and love and it- it felt like I didn’t deserve that attention, but you never wavered. Not even when any sane person probably would’ve.”

Max capped her pen again, trying to drown out her beating heart with those words. “You came back and became the best friend you always had been, and I don’t know where I’d be if you hadn’t. I feel like… like because of you, I’ve… changed and grown and- I wouldn’t recognize myself a year ago. So… angry and alone and and… and I’m- everything is so different now. You. You make me different.”

Chloe didn’t meet her eye. “That sounded weird. I mean- you bring out the best in me. You make the world seem.. not as awful. Like- I see the world as these jagged edges that keep cutting into me, and you- with your artsy way of seeing things- you make everything look softer than it is. Whether it’s through your photography or talking it out or whatever, I feel softer too. No one sees me the way you do. I guess people are used to me being this… troubled… disappointment. But you just see Chloe. I don’t know what you see when you’re looking at me, but you treat me like I have all this potential and… good-ness… inside of me that I don’t even think I really have. But I want to. Have it, I mean. I want to be this person you see. ‘Cause she sounds amazing. And… you make me feel, like… like I really am this amazing, priceless person. 

“And without that, I dunno if I would’ve made it to this year. I really don’t. And now I’ve got this internship, and I feel motivated to do art and shit again, and I’ve got a whole group of friends and I don’t actually feel all that shitty about myself anymore. Not as much as I used to, anyway. So just, thank you. For sticking with me, I guess.”

“Oh.” Max replied. That’s…not at all what she had expected to come out of Chloe’s mouth. “That’s… I feel the same way.” She tried to reply. Chloe looked so vulnerable, her eyes darting everywhere but Max’s face, until she said those words.

“You do?” She said it she’d been hoping Max would say something like that.

“Yeah.” Max insisted, resolve coiling in her chest along with the beating of butterfly’s wings, desperately trying to get out. “Sometimes I think about that other choice. If I’d actually gone back to that Monday and let Nathan kill you. And every time I think it… I feel more sure that I made the right choice. Sometimes it’s the only time I feel I made the right choice. Because even… even the thought of living without you, its- its- I hate it. I lived without you for five years and it- I know what it’s like. When I’m with you… I- you make me want to be braver. You make me think of adventures and hijinks and- and being a superhero. You act like you see me as a superhero, and it’s… it makes me want to be one. I want to be… I want to be brave enough to be your hero.”

She snorted. “That sounds stupid out loud. Okay. I just meant… I get so in my own head about stuff. When it’s about my art, or about people… and you just kinda barge into all that to remind me how amazing and talented you think I am. It’s hard to overthink and chicken out of shit when I have you driving me forward. I know what I’m like when I lose that, and I don’t ever want to lose it again. You bring out the best in me, too.”

Whereas before, Chloe wasn’t able to meet her eye, they were now locked. It felt impossibly delicate. Max didn’t know what else to say. They were crouched to the ground, their heads close. “Well, I remembered promising that I’ll always be with you, so,” Chloe said, a murmur, a near whisper, spoken delicaly enough to break. “You’ll never find out.”

Max knew what their closeness meant. Chloe didn’t need to say it, Max knew what she was thinking. Their faces this close, it felt impossible not to think it herself. She knew she loved Chloe, and it had never been more apparent that those feelings were shared, but…

Being with Chloe was inherently selfish. The way she felt about Chloe was a selfish feeling. They were best friends, and that should’ve been enough. Max was greedy about her time with Chloe, demanding more of it than the world permitted her to have. Her decisions- five thousand people were dead so that she could be here with Chloe now. 

Selfish.

Chloe had called herself selfish that day. She wasn’t the selfish one. Five thousand people dead, their names etched into the marble inches away from their close faces. Was it selfish to want this now? On this day? In front of this memorial? Max ached for it anyway, the selfish person that she was, and turned her head back to the memorial, letting her hair fall in front of her face. 

The moment didn’t feel broken even though that was her intention, the tension seemed to breath down her neck as she inked her name at the bottom of the list. When she was done, Chloe wrote her name beneath it. 

They were here. All these people had died, but Max and Chloe were still alive. And, selfishly, Max thought that wasn’t enough. 

Chapter Text

April 10th, 2015

“Alright, it’s posted.” Tammi announced. “Everyone go on Instagram right now and like it.”

Chloe had forgotten what Tammi had been doing for the last ten minutes until she fished her phone from her pocket and checked. Tammi had only chosen one of Max’s photos from their last photoshoot to post online. If there was a way to post multiple at once without the algorithm hating you, Chloe’s sure she would’ve. 

The photo captured a moment of mid performance. It’s taken from a distance away, then the band onstage is lit in an orange glow in an otherwise dark, packed room. “I honestly forgot you were doing that.” Chloe spoke, double tapping the image anyway. “How long does it takes to upload a picture?”

Tammi scowled from across the practice room. Well, it couldn’t really be called a “practice room”. It was used mostly for storage for the cafe- coffee creamers and blends and plates and all that. Plus, the Highseas never practiced here. They mostly just goofed off. Or at least, Chloe had only ever seen them goof off. Who knows, maybe they perform actual music here whenever she leaves to take a dump or something.

“It’s called cropping and filters, Chloe.” Tammi retorted. 

Pixie giggled, sitting over on the couch with Dex and Dwight.

“Those are pretty important parts of photography presentation.” Max added unhelpfully.

“Oh what the fuck ever, man.” Chloe scoffed playfully, rolling her eyes. 

“Aw, Maxie, we look great.” Pixie exclaimed, holding her phone to her face. 

Chloe watched Max’s reaction, because she knows what it’ll be. Her bangs cover parts of her face now when they come untucked from her ears, longer now that she’d taken to cutting her own hair and letting them grow out, and they sweep here now as she looks away, still too goddamn humble to accept well earned praise. Her face dusts pink. “Uh, thanks.” 

Chloe finds it hard to look away. If she could be less cute, that would be so helpful.

Dwight sits on the edge of the long couch. It’s an old, ratty thing that Tammi’s mom has been meaning to throw away. But here it sits, and here it will likely remain until it withers away. Dwight is helping Dex gather their props for their next gig. Dex is gathering together string lights with cutesy star and moon patterns along it, while Dwight opens packages of glow sticks. “Stop deflecting, the picture is great.”

Max doesn’t respond, just raising chop sticks to her face, continuing to eat her ramen straight from the carton. Why the Highseas ever order food from other places when they can just eat from the Beanbarn any time they want is insane to Chloe, but at least they order for Max and Chloe when they’re interrupting band “practice”. 

Lawrence laughed, down on the floor beside Max. She was on the beanbag chair, he was on the floor. “So humble.” 

Max stook her tongue out at him.

Dex was still coiling the string lights out of their knots and into a single spiral. “Oh for sure, super humble.” He agreed, walking to stand over her. He straightened out a long portion of the string lights out and draped them over Max, so that they ran around her back and neck and down around her lap. She had to hold her lunch out of the way. “And super cute. Right, Chloe?”

Entrapment. That’s exactly what this is. Those assholes. Dex was smirking over at her, all smug, like an asshole. A very correct asshole. The little stars and little moons draped around Max’s frame like she was the center of the universe, even if they were just stupid patsic lights. Her legs were crossed over each other, her face was framed by choppy hair that didn’t cover her reddening face, she held her ramen out in front of her like she was no longer sure of what to do with it. 

If Chloe kept staring at her, she’d probably end up spilling her guts and saying something stupid, like “Yes, and I also think she’s the more gorgeous person alive and regularly fantasize about grabbing her face and planting a big fat gay kiss right in the center of it”. So instead, Chloe wisely looked away. “I have no idea what any of you are talking about.” She said instead. “It’s well known that I find Max physically unattractive. And that’s probably because of her huge ego.”

Dex groaned. Chloe regrets admitting to things with this guy sometimes. He let go of the string lights, letting them rest of them fall next to the beanbag. “What was I thinking?” He replied dryly. “Can you hold onto that for me? Or is there not enough room on that beanbag for you and your alleged gigantic ego?”

Chloe risked looking back up. Max furrowed her brows up at Dex, frustrated. “What is this, bully Max hour? Are you guys having fun? Is this entertaining for you?”

“I think it’s funny.” Lawrence admitted.

“A little.” Tammi supplied.

“You guys suck.” Max rasped.

Chloe’s drawn in by the sounds of Pixie drumming her finders on her lap. Her notebook is out, the small, songwriting one. “You finally got something for us, Pix?”

Pixie looked up. When she’s testing a new melody, Pixie liked to sing it in her head and drum long to see if it made any sense. Pixie had been working on the lyrics to a song that was allegedly “almost done”, but the actual lyrics to the longs seemed to shift so much, Chloe wasn’t entirely sure what it was about anymore. “Maybe…” Pixie spoke slowly. Her mind wandered sometimes, almost like Max.

“Are we ready to hear it yet?” Dwight pushed.

Pixie pursed her lips, thinking. “Okay. Yeah, okay.” She stood up straighter, and Chloe found herself anticipating it. 

“From something something to churning sea

When part of you is part of me

Give me something and give me space

I’ve found my way something something something…

Starstruck for the first time in a long time

This is not goodbye, this is never goodbye 

Forever, oh, forever, oh

Something something something something 

This is not the end, this is never the end

Forever, oh, forever, oh,”

Tammi was their lead singer for a reason, her voice was fucking unbelievable. But Pixie has a very soft indie way of singing. She hummed several more cords until giving up.

“Damn girl.” Dwight reacted.

“It’s sounding like a song now!” Lawrence exclaimed enthusiastically. 

“Who’s it about?” Max asked.

Pixie smiled. “You know who it’s about.”

Tammi frowned. “Pixie. The prince and princess again?”

“Princess and knight.” Pixie corrected. 

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “When’d he become a knight?”

“Ages ago, Chloe!” Pixie replied. “When I changed the dragon to a which’s spell.”

“It’s not a dragon anymore?” Lawrence wondered. “Aw, why’d you change it?! I liked the dragon.”

“You guys are really crushing my creativity right now.” Said Pixie. “And it’s because I needed the threat to be more… unapproachable. There’s plenty of stories of knights being able to defeat wholeass dragons. It’s not believable that he’d just say ‘yep, just have to let the princess’s parents burn cause this specific dragon is just too big. Oh well.’ I needed the threat to be… intangible. Inevitable. And magic just feels better, y’know?”

“Why couldn’t he just ask for another witch’s help?” Max asked skeptically.

“There aren’t any other witches nearby.”

“Then he should’ve gone to where the other witches are.” 

“They’re too far away, by the time they got back their families would’ve been killed by the magic anyway.” Pixie retorted. “Why are you trying so hard to poo-poo my story?”

Max shook her head, the little plastic stars and moons clanked together softly. “I’m not poo-poo-ing it, I’m just pointing out the plot holes.”

“There aren’t any plot holes this time. You just don’t like it. Admit it!”

Max scowled for a moment, and Chloe wondered if she would actually admit to it this time. “I don’t dislike it, I just don’t see the appeal, I guess.”

“Don’t see the appeal?!” Pixie squeaked, offended.

“What’s so romantic about people dying?” Max countered. “I mean, how well do the knight and the princess even know each other? Why doesn’t the knight try to track down the witch and ask her to undo the spell that’s killing their families? It almost feels like the knight wanted this to happen. If people you care about are in danger, you shouldn’t just roll over and give up. He’d be a pretty pathetic knight if he did.”

Pixie stared at her hard. Chloe saw Tammi look away and make eye contact with her. She clapped her hands together and walked in the center of the room. “Okay, I’m going to grab the drum set and bring it downstairs. We need to actually start practice.”

Chloe stood up quickly. “I’ll help.”

Chloe knows they’re talking again, but she’s quick to follow Tammi out the door and back into the Beanbarn. 

“Oh my god.” Tammi exclaimed lifelessly, moving for the door to lead them upstairs.

She swung the door open, and Chloe is quick to follow her up the stairs. “What, you don’t like Pixie's story either? Isn’t your band’s whole original score based on them?”

The stairs open to the level apartment where Dex, Tammi, and her mom live. It’s cozy here. Their couch is new and bright blue in the center of the room, but their TV is still old and really thick. Framed photos cover nearly every area of wall space, photos of the cafe and her mom in various stages of her life. Almost reminds Chloe of her old house. Almost. And it doesn’t sting, just makes Chloe ache a little with a weird kind of nostalgia she can’t totally explain. Bittersweet? 

“I like it, she just keeps changing the characters and what’s happening to them.” Tammi explained, leading Chloe off down a hallway. “I can’t keep them straight.”

“Yeah, but the main point of it stays the same.”

Tammi opened the door at the end of the hall, the one painted hot pink and waltzed inside, Chloe hot in her heels. Chloe loved Tammi’s room. The room she shared with Max- which is kinda basically their room now- is personalized, sure, but this room looks like if you cut Tammi’s brain in half and looked at its contents. 

The walls were covered in wall hangings and posters and Polaroids. Not as many Polaroids as Max has, but still plenty. Chloe can see some of the photo’s Max had given her hanging there. There’s a cat shaped rug on the ground with a pile of laundry inhabiting a corner. The walls are painted bold even if Chloe can’t really see them, splashes off color intertwining randomly (green, yellow, orange, brown), Tammi must’ve painted it herself. It looks grunge. And dead center, the drum set.

“Damn, why is this even in here?” Chloe asked. It’s taking up a ridiculous amount of space. 

“It was taking up too much space downstairs, mom wanted it moved.” Tammi explained. “So I moved it. You didn’t answer my question.”

Chloe tried to recall. “Right, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, it's all about the idea of being willing to give up everything for someone you care about, right? The two characters always keep that with them when Pixie changes the story.” 

Tammi moved around the set, standing behind it. “Super romantic.” She replied dryly.

“You don’t think it is?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”

Chloe fought the heat raising to her face. Busted. “I feel like you should. You’re the one singing it.”

“Aw, you totally do!” Tammi cooed, drum set forgotten. “I didn’t take you for such a sap.”

“Ugh, dude, cut it out.” Chloe groaned. Maybe it was stupid, and Chloe wasn’t mooning over the troupe the way Pixie did, but the story had a soft grip on her heart. Maybe because it was so familiar. 

She kinda hated hearing Max softcore bash it. She knew well that Max didn’t regret what she’d done that day, but the fact that she kept poking holes into the narrative to explain why the two characters' romance didn’t make sense kinda made it feel like Max thinks two people going through that sort of thing don’t make sense together romanticly. And that twists her insides unpleasantly. 

Her face was probably red, dammit. “My friendly teasing quota of the day has already been filled.”

Tammi paused only for a second to remember what Chloe was talking about. “Oh yeah! Ha, Dex almost got you there.”

Chloe scowled. “I really wish you guys wouldn’t do that.” Chloe hadn’t so much as told the Highseas about her romantically inclined feelings towards Max, more like Tammi had figured it out and swapped conspiracies with the rest of the gang until finally asking her about it. Chloe wished she were a better liar, because ever since then they’ve been unbearable. At least Lawrence doesn't know yet.  

“Okay but you guys are so close.” Tammi argued. “Like, it’s getting annoying. Every day I wake up and watch you two flop around like inexperienced fish, just barely avoiding confrontation. Like, girl, it’s inevitable. Why do you keep putting it off?”

It still felt weird, talking about all this. Mostly because Chloe wasn’t sure how to put it all into words. Things made sense when Max was around. Her feelings were a cohesive stream of warmth and comfort that she didn’t need to question or push. How the hell do you explain that? This isn’t like meeting Steph outside Blackwell and talking about how Rachel sent her a weird text last night and she's not sure if she’s reading her signals right and maybe this time she’s not leading Chloe on and she actually wants to do something with her. 

No, this was Max. And Chloe didn’t have to reach to figure Max out. She’d never had to describe the way she feels about Max to anyone. She’s not even sure it fits into just one category. Yeah sure, romantic, occasionally sexual, but also platonic. She was still Chloe’s oldest and best friend. 

It was just weird to talk about. Made her feel weird. Like she was being caught doing something she shouldn’t. Or that maybe she’d over exposed herself and now she was going to be vulnerable and get hurt. Chloe was aware how she softened up when talking about Max. Trying to articulate her feelings brought them to the forefront of her mind. And since the feelings themselves made her soft… it made sense but that didn’t mean Chloe had to like it. 

Chloe held up a finger. “One, you don’t know that for sure.” She held up a second finger. “Two, who says I’m avoiding it?”

“You are.”

“Maybe so.” Chloe countered just as easily. “But that’s well within my right.”

“But why though.” Tammi pressed.

“Maybe I just don’t want to confront it. Ever think of that?”

Tammi blinked owlishly at her. “What. The fuck are you talking about?”

Chloe crossed her arms. “You heard me. Maybe I don’t want to talk to her about it. Maybe things are finally stable and I like it that way. Who am I to rock the boat? I like the boat the way it is. It’s a good boat. Fuck you.”

“Okay, no need to get defensive, I was just asking.” Tammi countered quickly, putting her hands up midway. “So you don’t want to date Max? I’m confused.”

“We’ll, yeah- I mean no. I mean…” Chloe put her hands on her hips. “It’s hella complicated, man.”

“I can tell.” Tammi agreed. “Because I’m super confused.”

“Well that’s because it’s super confusing!” Said Chloe. She took a breath, then started over. “Look, Max is my best friend. I’ve known her since I was fucking six. Yeah, we took a little hiatus, but I’ve basically known her my whole life. The few years she wasn’t there were the worst I’ve ever had to live through. And if she hadn’t come back into my life, I don’t know how I would have made it through the last year and a half. I don’t think I would’ve. It’s been… hard. Getting used to Seattle, getting used to… loss. Sometimes, when it’s really bad, it feels like Max is the only reason I wake up in the mornings. It’s scary to think I could mess that up so easily.”

Tammi crinkled her face inward with concern. Chloe was lucky to have this many people who cared about her so genuinely. She was really starting to get used to it. “You really think talking about it would mess things up? You really think the way Max feels about you is so fragile?”

“No, that’s not-“ Chloe cut herself off, starting again. This was stupid hard to explain. The feeling cut sharp against her insides, like there was broken glass around her rib cage that cut into her lungs every time she took a breath.

“If you asked her out, she’d say yes.” Tammi says, certainty shaping the words.

“I know.” Chloe said. She and Max were beyond close, and over the last year it was a little impossible to see that Max wanted them closer. It didn’t feel weird to realize. It felt… a little natural? Sometimes Chloe was convinced she’d made it up because a girl liking her back felt foreign. Chloe wasn’t as confident as Tammi was. “That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“What if it doesn’t work?” Chloe mused, hating how her vice hitched at the end of the last word. This was a hella lame thing to be so worked up over. “What if I- what if we start dating or whatever, and we find out we just don’t work romantically? What if we start dating, and Max realizes she just doesn’t like it? I know we wouldn’t have some super messy breakup or anything- we know each other way too well and Max would never pick a fight like that, but, all that means is that we’d have to go back to being friends. Then I’d have to live the rest of my life knowing what it’s like to date her, and kiss her, and do all the stupid sappy romantic shit I want to do with her, and know that I’ll never get to do it ever again. Or even worse- watch her be like that with someone else. And I know that if Max doesn’t make it weird, I’m going to. I'm going to make it super weird, Tammi. I’m incapable of being normal about this. I'm a really shitty liar. I won’t be able to believably pretend to be happy for her and it’s gonna make shit super hella fucking weird. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if our relationship had this… strain on it… because of me.”

Chloe hated how her stomach twisted with this obscene yearning, yanking her about like she was a slave to the wanting pounding against her chest, begging to be known for even just a moment. There’s a reason she locked it up in there. 

Tammi doesn’t judge her for it. She’s greatful- seriously grateful. Chloe’s not sure she’d manage if Tammi poked fun at this. “Why don’t you think it’ll work?”

Chloe shrugged. She knew the answer. “I… I haven’t had… the best- I mean,” she sighed. God. “My romantic experience hasn’t been the best, really. I’ve only ever really liked two girls in my whole life. The first time I ever tried to make a move on a girl- y’know, try and push things toward romance- it’s just… god, it only ever made things weird. She just never… wanted what I wanted. And I couldn’t never tell what she wanted! But I couldn’t put how I felt away. We used to be much closer than we were before… everything that happened, happened. It’s hard to deny that my stupid feelings was what drove a wedge between us. If I’d known how much time we’d had left, I would’ve tried harder to ignore it.”

She’s talked about this before, Tammi knows who she’s talking about, Chloe’s sure of it. “Chloe, Max isn’t Rachel. You can’t expect her to be Rachel. Being with her wouldn’t be anything like being with Rachel.”

“I know that.” Chloe insisted, her voice pitching almost to a whine, she hated how her voice was so strangled. “I don’t want her to be. I like Max how she is- exactly how she is. But… it just isn’t happening, okay? Not now. I can’t do it, I can’t date her.”

Tammi sighed. Chloe could tell she was a little exhausted of Chloe and Max’s endless back and forth, and Chloe doesn’t blame her. She’s not sure how much more toe-ing the line she can take herself. And the fact that Max has been unmistakably leaning into it… god, that’s going to be what kills her one day. But Chloe’s heart lurches at the idea of that risk. It felt nearly uncharacteristic of her to be so cautious. But Chloe knew what it was like to have her feelings totally transparent and ignored. Not exactly rejected, but nowhere near accepted either. She knows what it’s like to kiss a girl you’re infatuated with and then watch her mack on some bro at a party days later. If Chloe shows Max exactly how she feels… and it ends up returning to the status quo? … God. She can’t get stuck like that again.

“Let’s just get this drum set downstairs.” Tammi decided. “You take that part, I’ll take this one.”

Chloe nodded, picking up the smaller drum with ease. She didn’t know what they were all called. She opened the door and Max was standing directly on the other side of it, hand raised, like she’d just arrived and was about to knock on the door. Chloe jumped. 

“Ack- god! Max!” She exhaled. 

Max was wide eyed, likely just as startled. Then she smiled. It was half hearted, likely forced. “Came up here to see what was taking so long. The others were starting to get worried. You guys need an extra hand…?”

Chloe stepped aside, her heart still slamming against her chest. Jesus. “Yeah, sure. Go grab something.”

Max’s hands were held together in the center of her chest, fingers fidgeting together, and she beamed up at her. She must be feeling awkward, because the smile was still strained. She moved past Chloe and into the bedroom behind her. Before Chloe could overthink it, she headed back into the hallway. Chloe’s pretty sure Max hadn’t overheard them or anything, but man that girl was hella quiet. And nosey. 

Chloe walked down the set of stairs, two at a time. Whatever. No matter how much she burned to let out all the stupid feelings trapped in her chest, the fear of what could happen was greater. Chloe promised she’d always be with Max, and nothing- not even her own stupid traitor heart- was going to fuck that up. 

…

“Damn girl.” Dwight reacted. He was sitting on the couch, gawking up at Pixie after she finished her melody. Max wasn’t inclined to disagree, the melody itself was gorgeous. Sweet and emotional. The lyrics themselves, however…

“It’s sounding like a song now!” Lawrence exclaimed enthusiastically, lounging down on the floor by her side.

“Who’s it about?” Max asked.

Pixie smiled. “You know who it’s about.” Max frowned.

Tammi looked down at her. “Pixie. The prince and princess again?”

“Princess and knight.” Pixie corrected. 

Chloe raised an eyebrow. She was across the room from Max, but she could still see her facial expression clearly. “When’d he become a knight?”

“Ages ago, Chloe!” Pixie replied. “When I changed the dragon to a witch's spell.”

“It’s not a dragon anymore?” Lawrence wondered. “Aw, why’d you change it?! I liked the dragon.”

“You guys are really crushing my creativity right now.” Said Pixie. “And it’s because I needed the threat to be more… unapproachable. There’s plenty of stories of knights being able to defeat wholeass dragons. It’s not believable that he’d just say ‘yep, just have to let the princess’s parents burn cause this specific dragon is just too big. Oh well.’ I needed the threat to be… intangible. Inevitable. And magic just feels better, y’know?”

“Why couldn’t he just ask for another witch’s help?” Max asked skeptically. In her mind, that seemed too easy of a solution for the knight not to think of. When Max is put in a tight spot like that, she thinks long and hard about alternate solutions before jumping to the most drastic thing. 

“There aren’t any other witches nearby.”

“Then he should’ve gone to where the other witches are.” 

“They’re too far away, by the time they got back their families would’ve been killed by the magic anyway.” Pixie retorted. “Why are you trying so hard to poo-poo my story?”

Max shook her head, the little plastic stars and moons clanked together softly. “I’m not poo-poo-ing it, I’m just pointing out the plot holes.”

“There aren’t any plot holes this time. You just don’t like it. Admit it!”

Max scowled for a moment, wondering the best way to approach this without sounding mean. “I don’t dislike it, I just don’t see the appeal, I guess.”

“Don’t see the appeal?!” Pixie squeaked, offended.

“What’s so romantic about people dying?” Max countered. “I mean, how well do the knight and the princess even know each other? Why doesn’t the knight try to track down the witch and ask her to undo the spell that’s killing their families? It almost feels like the knight wanted this to happen. If people you care about are in danger, you shouldn’t just roll over and give up. He’d be a pretty pathetic knight if he did.”

Pixie stared at her hard. Tammi clapped her hands together and walked in the center of the room. “Okay, I’m going to grab the drum set and bring it downstairs. We need to actually start practice.”

Chloe stood up quickly. “I’ll help.”

Lawrence called “Cowards!” To their backs as they exited, but Max isn’t sure it’s heard. 

Pixie cut sharply back to Max, like the interruption hadn’t happened. “It is to romantic.” She countered. “What could possibly be more romantic than someone willing to give up everything for you? The witch’s spell puts a sickness on the royal family, which spreads to the people and families inside the castle which includes the Knight’s family and friends. Everyone except the princess. They decide that her magical immunity means she has to be sacrificed to end the spell and the knight saves her because he thinks she’s more important than anything or anyone else. They walk off into the sunset. How are you not seeing it yet?”

Max shrugged again, trying to grasp more of her noodles between chopsticks. “I guess. But how does everyone just decide that the princess dying is going to cure them all? It sounds like a pretty big jump. And what about the knight? You said everyone in the castle got the illness, so, didn’t the knight get it too? By saving the princess, is he dooming himself? Does the princess even have a say in all this?”

“The princess wants to save her family.” Pixie answers firmly. “And… uh… okay, I may have to rethink the magical illness part- but besides that, the act of putting her above all else is inherently romantic. End argument.”

“Why would you want it to be, though?” Max afgued anyway. “That sounds much more painful than it does romantic.”

Pixie smiled wide, her earlier disgruntlement forgotten. “What can I say? I love love.”

That may be the most accurate thing she’d said all afternoon. Pixie was a true romantic. It was all too easy to picture her doodling some boy’s last name at the end of her’s over the margins of her notes or diary with little hearts, buying one of those high school candy grams for a crush, or creating a code name to talk about him. She loved cheesy stupid rom coms and trashy adult romance novels, all dispite never being in a relationship herself. Not that Max can judge, since she hadn’t either. 

It isn’t Pixie’s fault she’d created a story based around an idea of sacrifice that was close enough to home to make her uncomfortable. In all honesty, when Max thinks back to that day (rain down her back, hair in the wind, the choice in her hands) she doesn’t remember romance. She remembered desperation, fear of what she could lose, the roar of her own heartbeat drowning out the thunder. She remembers clinging to Chloe like heavy winds may pick her up and take her away. 

She doesn’t remember that gentle, reassuring warmth she feels these days, when her side leans against Chloe’s on the bed or the couch, the most natural touch in the world. When Chloe looks down at her with that gleam in her eye, ‘I have a killer plan for today, get ready for the most fun you’ve had all week.’ When Max looks over to her, laying at the foot of her bed, and it wells up in her chest like she may explode with it, knowing this is the girl she’d do anything for, this is the girl she’s been with her entire life and knows she’ll end it with her too, knows that this girl right here makes everything better just be being around, and that makes everything worth it. 

That warmth wasn’t there on the cliffside that day, only the cold fear of losing it. 

“Each to their own.” She said instead.

Lawrence sighed dramatically. “Lord, thank god that’s over.” 

Theater majors. Max thought fondly. “Hey, what’s taking Chloe and Tammi so long?”

Dex, who’d moved on from string lights and was now helping Dwight unwrap glow sticks and put them in a cardboard box, jumped to attention. “Now that you mention it, yeah, what is taking them so long? The drums aren’t that heavy.”

Max put her takeout on the ground in front of her and stood up. “I’ll go check.” She offered, taking the string lights off her shoulders and dropping them down behind her on the beanbag. “Maybe they need help.”

Dwight didn’t look up from his task, only raising a hand to wave her off. “Godspeed.”

“They better come down this decade,” Lawrence added. “Tammi promised we were at least gonna start our project today.”

As Max headed out the door, she heard one last retreating message; “You’re lucky if you two get it done before next week.”

Max couldn’t argue there. Lawrence and Tammi were both going to the same college in the city, but living at home. While they had drastically different majors, everyone had to take the same fundamentals, so Lawrence and Tammi were in the same Art History class. Max had heard about the dreaded “analyze an artist from the early Italian renaissance” group project. 

As Max headed up the stairs to the upper floor, she thought it was lucky that they at least got to work together, and not with some stranger. Max hated group projects when she went to school. She’s not looking forward to that part of going to college next year. 

Tammi’s living room greets her with its usual cheerful clutter as she walks down the hall. She doesn’t know where the drums are, but she can hear voices coming from Tammi’s room’s hot pink door. 

“…would’ve tried harder to ignore it.” That was Chloe’s voice. Were they sitting here chatting instead of bringing the drums down? Max raised her knuckles to rap the against the door-

“Chloe, Max isn’t Rachel.” Tammi recites, like this isn’t the first time she’s said it. “You can’t expect her to be Rachel. Being with her wouldn’t be anything like being with Rachel.”

Max froze with her hand in the air. She knows she shouldn’t listen, but Max is a naturally nosey person. Curious. That’s a better word. And they were talking about her. Talking about Chloe dating her, specifically. Her stomach churns. She sucks in a breath, like the very act of her breathing might be enough to alert them to her presence. She can’t blame Chloe for having Rachel on her mind, the anniversary of her going missing was in a week and a half, but why are they relating her to Max? 

“I know that.” Chloe insisted, her voice pitching almost to a whine. “I don’t want her to be. I like Max how she is- exactly how she is. But… it just isn’t happening, okay? Not now. I can’t do it, I can’t date her.”

It hit her like a punch to the gut. Max hasn’t used her rewind in over a year, but she could’ve sworn she felt the world freeze up around her. What? 

Chloe is a well worn down book to Max. Not just open, not just read, but read over and over. Enough times that the pages are crinkly, there are remnants of dog ears at the corners, and the spine has so many creases you can’t read the title there anymore. Max knows her, and she knows Chloe is in love with her. At the very least, she knows they’re more than what everyone else meant when they say “best friends”. 

But just because you like someone, doesn’t mean you want to date them. Feelings are complicated like that, and relationships can be even more complicated considering there are two peoples feelings to account for. It can get messy and incoherent, especially to outsiders. There’s different kinds of love, and different ways of showing it. Chloe likes Max, but that doesn’t guarantee that she wants them to be dating. 

Max had sensed as much before now. It’s not as if she’d been trying to hide how she felt from the world. But she hadn’t forced a conversation about it onto Chloe because she felt that Chloe had some reservations. No matter how close they stand, Chloe’s never let their lips touch. 

It’s strange, but this explanation doesn’t feel too far off from Max’s worst guesses. Chloe doesn’t want to date Max because Max isn’t anything like Rachel.

The kind of person Chloe wants to have a romantic relationship with would be wilder, bolder, and more experienced than Max. It makes sense, Max is mild, Chloe isn’t. Why wouldn’t she want to be with someone more like her? Someone more exciting? 

Max isn’t… she isn’t a lot of things. Max is boring. She’s not the kind of person you gush about to your friends so much they start to hate you. She’s not the kind of person you fantasize dating because… what would that even be like? What would you even do? She’s not the kind of gorgeous that lands you on magazine covers, like Rachel was. That was the kind of girl that kept you up at night. That’s not who Max is.

Max isn’t keen on being jealous of a dead girl. And she isn’t jealous- she’s pretty sure. But that doesn’t stop her heart from plummeting. Max… already knew all this. She’d been insecure about it forever, basically. There’s a part of her that thought… hoped, really… that maybe Chloe saw her differently? Chloe saw her as someone pretty enough to fantasize about?

It was kind of stupid to hope though, wasn’t it?

Someone sighed. “Let’s just get this drum set downstairs.” Tammi. “You take that part, I’ll take this one.”

She should’ve moved away, but she didn’t, still frozen like someone had slapped her in the face. 

The door opened and she was faced with Chloe, holding one of the smaller parts of the drum set in one hand. She flinched up upon seeing her.

“Ack- god! Max!” She exhaled. 

Max was wide eyed, just as startled. She realized her hand was still hovering in the air like an idiot, so she let it drop to her side. 

She forced a smile onto her face. She must look ridiculous, but it was better than standing there looking like she’d just had her heart ripped from her chest. “Came up here to see what was taking so long.” She said, her words came out as individuals, unconnected from a full sentence. “The others were starting to get worried. You guys need an extra hand…?”

Chloe stepped aside so Max could get through the doorway. “Yeah, sure. Go grab something.”

Max smiled again, thin lipped, and walked past her. She watched Tammi struggle to hold both cymbals, then follow Chloe out the door. Neither of them had any idea Max had heard them. 

This shouldn’t hurt as bad as it does, Max thinks to herself, picking up the snare. It was light. It’s not as if this changes anything.

They were Max and Chloe, as they’ve always been. They don’t have to be actually dating for them to be that something that’s more than best friends. They’ve always been that. Chloe doesn’t have to want to kiss her or anything, Max doesn’t blame her for not wanting that. She’s probably bad at it anyway. 

Chloe promised Max that she’d always be with her, and that isn’t something Max doubts. That “with” doesn’t have to be the way Max wants. This shouldn’t make her inside twist around until they didn’t make sense. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. 

She’s staring out from that chair in the Dark Room as Chloe smiles at everyone but her. Because there’s nothing to smile at, nothing to look at. In comparison to everyone else Chloe knows, everyone else Chloe’s ever been interested in, Max is a child. Max is uninteresting and bland to look at. Not at all the kind of girl you’d want under the covers with you.

She’s in the Two Whales Diner, crowded and frozen in a moment. The Max-who-isn’t-her looks up at her from a blue booth’s seat, and when she speaks, her sharp words that cut into Max’s rib cage as she speaks are right.

Max is so selfish.

Chapter Text

April 11th, 2015

When she woke up, Chloe was curled up to Max’s side, head tucked beneath her arms and against her ribcage- and her phone was ringing. 

Yesterday, they’d come home and Chloe said Max had been acting “weird”. She knew why. She hadn’t meant to act weird, she was actually trying to act normal. It shouldn’t hurt, and Max knew it was stupid, but it was hard to maintain that it didn’t hurt on her face. It wasn’t Max’s place to be upset about. Chloe hadn’t done anything wrong- but the way Chloe had been acting when they got home, Max could tell she’d been thinking it was her fault. 

All Max could say was; “I’m just thinking too much.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was a pretty pathetic excuse nonetheless, and she could tell Chloe didn’t buy into it. But after enough poking Chloe gave up and let her get away with it. 

She felt guilty for making Chloe feel guilty, and if that doesn’t spell out her guilt complex perfectly, what could?

Carefully, Max reached out to the nightstand where her phone was still vibrating, as to not wake Chloe. She’d feel really bad for it if she did. Also, now awake, Max felt her head pounding like she had a hangover and her eyes aching like she hadn’t slept in days. She felt like shit. God damn it.

She looked at the caller ID. Pixie? What the hell was Pixie doing calling her at… eight in the morning, what…? Did she really need to pick up the phone right now? She felt like shit and she really couldn’t think of anything Pixie would need her for that couldn’t wait a few hours. 

>Answer

>Sleep a few more hours 

As the phone continued to vibrate, Max untangled herself from Chloe. It was kinda hard, but possible, because Chloe wasn’t actually clinging into her. Once freed, Max was able to stand up, if not without stumbling to find her footing. Her feet felt like lead. God. 

She looked back down at Chloe. Yesterday, Max was just getting her footing, but she’d come to fully accept that she and Chloe weren’t heading in the direction of girlfriends. Did it still hurt like a bitch? Sure. But was that going to stop her from being the best friend in the history of ever? Fuck no. Max would continue on like nothing was wrong, watch Chloe fall in love with a hot alternative girl that probably smoked and all that rebellious shit that Max wasn’t capable of giving her, and Max would be right behind her, supporting her the whole way. 

Today was a new day, and Max was going to make it less weird for both of them. So she took out the aching pain of want want want that echoed through her hollow chest and folded it down into something more pocket sized, then tucked it away. She’d get used to that ache. It would be fine. They were still Max and Chloe.

And right now, Max had a phone call to answer. She, very quietly, slipped out of her room, opening the latch and climbing down the stairs to the second floor hallway. Though, now, it was very much their room. Max had recreated her wall of Polaroids over her bed, too many of them featuring blue, turquoise, fading to green hair. There were band posters and (much to her parents dismay) big black sharpie writing and doodles on her walls. “How I picture the world” over her triangle window. “Super Max!” And a little doodle of her in a cape on the wall by the door. “Punk shit” by her banister. Chloe laid claim to it, to her space. It was shared, and Max liked it that way.

When she finally got out of Chloe’s hearing range, the call had already gone to voicemail. Max opened her messages to call Pixie back, but then Pixie was calling her again. She answered it.

“What?”

“Max. My fucking god.” She exclaimed wildly on the other side of the phone. “You sleep like a log. What took you so long to pick up? I called you, like, twenty times.”

“There’s no way it was twenty.” Max is aware of her own voice and how the pace slows, making her sound groggy. And she is, so. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“No. I mean, yes…?”

Max blinked, slowly. “… What?”

“Listen, I need to talk to you. Face to face.” Pixie told her. “It’s important, trust me.”

“Uh, okay.” Max said. “Can you tell me what about, or-?”

“I’ll tell you when you get over here.”

“To your house? Pixie, I don’t have a car, and Chloe isn’t awake to drive me.”

“I’ll just come over to you. I have your address.”

“Uh, yeah okay, that’s fine I guess.” Max replied blearily. “This better be fucking life changing I guess.”

“It totally will be.” Pixie said ominously. It sent chills down Max’s spine. “See ya soon!”

“Yeah, see-“

The dial tone beeped, and Max pulled the phone from her ear. Pixie hung up on her. “Great.”

Max rubbed her temples, her head still hurting like a bitch. She needed advil or something. With the grace of a newborn fawn, Max hobbled down the hallway and trotted down the staircase. The house was quiet this early in the morning, and she could hear the soft noises of her bare feet on the tiles of the kitchen when she entered. 

Why was her head being so awful right now? It usually only got that way after she had a long cry (and no, Max hadn’t cried about the Chloe thing yet. And she wasn’t going to. It wasn't that serious) or… after she used her powers for too long. 

Max looked down at her wrist. Her wrist watch was in perfect synch with Chloe. If Max had accidentally rewinded, they’d be out of synch. She’d have to check when Chloe was up. 

But there was no way that’s what happened, Max tried to convince herself, quell her paranoia. You can’t rewind time in your sleep. Can you?

Max sighed to herself, swinging around the entryway and into the kitchen area.

“You sound tired.” That was her dad. 

Max was startled by his sudden presence and voice, standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a bagel. “Oh, hey Pop.” She picks up her stride again, walking over to the cabinets in the corner of the room.

“You looking for something?” He asked. 

“Just advil.” She informed him, opening the doors and reaching for the bottle on the top of the cabinet’s shelves. “My head is pounding.”

“You didn’t stay up too late, did you?”

Max threw open the cabinet door next to it, taking out one of their smaller cups for water. “No, it just hurt when I woke up this morning.”

“Ah,” he replied as Max walked over to the sink, turning on the faucet to fill up her cup. “Well, try not to blast any rock’n’roll music on your stereo until it goes away.”

Max giggled, turning the faucet off. “I’ll try not to.” As she opened the bottle of advil, taking out the two she needed, and closing it back up, she added; “And it’s usually Pop Punk.”

“Sorry?”

Max held her hand up, signaling to give her a second, as she put the pills on her tongue and brought the rim of the glass to her lips. Once swallowed, she said; “The music Chloe plays, it’s usually Pop Punk. Or Punk Rock. Sometimes softer indie stuff.”

Her dad stared down at her, like he was saying ‘kids these days.’ “If you say so.”

“I do.” Max placed the water cup in the sink. She’d clean it off later. “Oh, by the way, my friend- you know Pixie- is headed over right now. Is that okay?”

“Pixie… the drummer?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“She said she had something she wanted to tell me…?” Max shrugged. “She was a little vague about it.”

“Well that explains why you’re up so early.” He mused. “I’m alright with it, but, you may want to check with your mother.”

“Can you do it? My head hurts.”

“That’s… not really an excuse…” her dad replied warily. “But I’m headed back up there anyway.”

“Thanks Pop!”

She rushed back upstairs before her dad could second guess the decision, flying up the stairscase and winding around the hallway. It was a really weird thing to admit to, but she didn’t like having to confront her parents about stuff when she didn’t have to. Not that talking to them was unpleasant or anything- her parents were fine. She just always felt like she was bothering them, or taking up too much space. And again- it wasn’t their fault, they weren't trying to make her feel that way, she just did. Maybe because they were already busy people and they didn’t talk a lot anyway.

Max crawled back up the ladder she’d left open to get back into her room. Her head hadn’t calmed yet, so the action hurt a little. Chloe was still asleep, tangled with the unmade covers. Max crept over, slowly, as not to wake her, and hovered there. Chloe sleeping wasn’t a new sight to her- curled up onto nothing, fading turquoise with long blonde roots spilling onto her pink patterned pillow cover- so it didn’t phase her as it maybe would’ve otherwise. Max held out her hand up to Chloe’s, holding their matching wrist watches side by side. The times were still perfectly synched, meaning Max hadn't time traveled in her sleep. Thank god. 

She sighed, standing up straight. Her anxiety and paranoia quelled, and her stomach settled. Of course she didn’t time travel in her sleep, that didn’t even make any sense. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to wipe the sleep away. It didn’t work, she was still impressively tired. 

She opened her phone to check the time. Eight sixteen. Jesus, this is too early for a Saturday. Pixie would probably be here soon. Max wondered what she could possibly need to talk about so desperately that it couldn’t wait for later in the day. Maybe something to do with the band? They had a show later in the week, she’s pretty sure.

Chloe snorted in her sleep, drawing Max’s attention back down to her. Her hair had gotten pretty long- sweeping to about her shoulders, an impressive amount of it the color of her roots. She’s able to put some of it up into a ponytail now, if only a small one. She’d told Max that she was going to try and grow it out for a while, see if she liked that, saying “I need some kind of change.” 

Max thought it looked nice. But then again, Max thought anything looked nice on Chloe. 

Her gaze rose to the Polaroids on her wall, above the bed. She’d practically cataloged Chloe’s hair growth. There’s the long blonde girl she used to be, splashes off blue and turquoise, and her later color of faded blue-ish green. 

Her eyes train along them, finding one of them at the space needle (Max hadn’t wanted to go, but Chloe said she’d wanted to see it in person at least once, and Max caved. It’s a selfie, Max’s face is half in the picture, Chloe stands farther back throwing up peace signs.), another at the aquarium uptown (Chloe’s back is to the camera, fish swim around behind the glass she’s staring it), and the most recent one, from the skatepark a week ago (she’s sitting down on a bench, forearms resting on her knees, bent forward, panting and out of breath, but lips still curved up into a smirk when she looks down to her board on the pavement below her). 

It took a long time for Max to feel comfortable holding her camera again- even longer for her to adjust to her digital camera. For a while, Max gave up her patented selfies, afraid she may fall into them and revisit her past. It was a silly fear- Max can’t “accidentally” time travel- but it’s a hard fear to kick. She’s proud that she’s come as far as she has, even though she heavily prefers taking photos of her companion, strangers, and pigeons than herself.

Pigeons may beat Chloe for her favorite subject. They stand still long enough for the exposure time on her polaroid, they have greenish feathers around their necks and wings that can reflect sunlight beautifully, they travel in groups so Max always has one of them doing something interesting- Max can go on and on about why she found pigeons as interesting as she did. 

Before she could remiss on it, her phone vibrated in her hand. She lifted it up.

[Pixie <3]

Here!!!!!!

Ah, well, that’s that. Hopefully her mom was decent. And hopefully whatever Pixie needed to do didn’t last too long, Max had to work later. 

[Max]

Omw! (^~^)

Hurrying over to the exit hatch, Max cast one last look at Chloe over her shoulder, still asleep. Hopefully she’d stay that way for however long Pixie was going to be here. And she hoped that wouldn’t be very long, Max wanted to snuggle back up next to her and forget yesterday ever happened- even if that was pretty selfish. 

But alas, friend group duty calls.

Max hurried herself down the step ladder and back down the hallway, down the staircase, two at a time. When she reached the foyer and opened the door, Pixie was grinning wildly at her from the other side. “You were in my dream last night!” She chirped excitedly, like that may be the greatest news on earth.

“Uh, cool.” Max stepped aside and Pixie slipped past her and into the foyer. “Hopefully you didn’t drive all the way to my house to tell me about a dream you had.”

As Max closed the door, Pixie came up behind her and spun her around, hand on her shoulders, to hold her still. “No, listen- I understand all of it now!”

“Understand what?” Max asked, still too tired to match her energy. How was she so awake at eight fifteen in the morning?

“Max, you’re the knight!” She exclaimed, like that explained everything. “It makes total sense!”

“The… the knight from your story?”

“Exactly!” Pixie agreed. Max still didn’t get it. “I saw it in a dream years ago, only then I didn’t know what I was seeing. But last night I saw it again! I saw you!”

Max rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Pix, what the hell are you talking about?”

Her eyes may as well have been sparking in the early morning sun streaming in front the windows behind Max. “You’re like me, you’re time touched!”

Max took a deep intake of breath, her body tensing with it. What the hell? How did she-?! Max looked around Pixie, behind her. Her dad must’ve gone upstairs already, but there’s no guarantee where her mom was- neither of them could hear Pixie say shit like that. With no further prompting, Max untangled herself from Pixie and opened the front door again, grabbing her friend by the wrist and pulling her outside. 

While spring was still coming in on the breeze, the air still made the hairs on her arms rise. Winter wasn’t forgotten, biting on her nose and fingers as soon as she was outdoors. The fact that she was in her pajamas probably wasn’t helping. She closed the door behind them and Pixie stood with her on the top of the cement porch. “What was that for?”

“What was that for?!” Max repeated. “My parents are home.”

“Do they not know?”

“Only Chloe knows.”

Pixie’s lips curled into a smug grin. “Chloe and me.”

“Well that’s-“ Max scoffed. “What do you know? What kind of dream did you have last night? What’s going on, Pixie?”

“Okay okay okay so,” Pixie began, which is exactly how Max can tell she’s about to strap in for a wild ride. “Last night I figured out that you and I are the same. We’re both sensitive to the stream of time.”

“You can feel it too?” Max awed. “I thought I was the only one.”

“So did I!” She agreed, bouncing up on the balls of her toes. “But then, last night- well, okay, a year and a half ago, around September or October- like, fall, I was hanging around the space between realities- you know, for fun-“

“The… what?”

“And it was so weird- I felt the fabric of reality pulling real tight around something, like someone was yanking them super hard in my- our- timeline.” She explained rapidly. “In retrospect, it must’ve been you.”

Max’s stomach clenched. “The-… the storm, I must’ve-“

“Yeah, exactly!” She said. “Except I didn’t know that then. All I knew was that- out if knowhere- everything got really tight and then snap! Everything loosened back up in an instant, and I was hit with this fuckin’ intense wave of emotion. It was, like, this deep twisted complex decay of yearning. It was so abstract, I couldn’t tell if it was for a person or a thing or even a place. I could just tell that whoever it was coming from, they were horribly scared of losing something unspeakably important to them. But I could also feel how much love they had for this thing, it was overwhelming and they were clinging onto it for dear life. But there was also devastation. I could tell something bad had happened, and that this person had done that thing for the thing they loved. In order to keep it.”

Max felt her stomach twist around beyond all comprehension. She felt laid bare. When she put it like that, it sounded so… selfish. It was all she could do to keep listening.

“I was the most powerful, impactful thing I’d ever felt. Ever. In my whole life. I’ve been trying to recreate that emotion in my music for years, but I never got it quite right. I tried creating a scenario around what may have caused that feeling through stories, but none of the variations I tried ever felt entirely right either.” She grabbed both Max’s hands, holding the interlocked fingers between them. “But last night, I finally had another dream. I’m sure you’ve had those before too- catching random glimpses of times before you and after? It happens occasionally when you’re connected to the stream. Anyway, I saw you that day. You were on a cliffside by some lighthouse, with Chloe, and you tore a Polaroid in half. I felt that emotion again. All this time I’ve been chasing after this feeling, and it’s been you all along. You’re the knight! And- wait, does this make Chloe the princess?”

Max blinked back, her head blank for a moment. “Um-?”

“Oh my gosh, it totally does!” Her smile crept wider on her face. “I don’t want to be a total romantic or anything, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone that in love with another person. Max, you’re so-!”

“Hold on. Hold on.” Max tore their hands apart, trying to remember to breathe. “I’m- you’re- you have the rewind? You have rewind too?! Are you cereal? This whole time I’ve been friends with another… time… traveler? Rewind guy? What even am I…”

Pixie giggled. “Rewind? That’s a weird thing to call it.”

“Why’s it weird?”

“Well, I mean, like, what’re you rewinding?”

Max crossed her arms over the chest, half from frustration and half from the chill. “Time.”

“Time?!”

“Yeah. I mean, that’s the power. Mostly. You reach out to feel the stream of time and then you yank it backwards. Is that not how it works?”

If Pixie’s eyes were any bigger, they’d fall out of their sockets. “You yank it?!” She squealed. “Max, honey, you’re not supposed to yank it.”

Max threw her hands out to either side. “What the heck am I supposed to do then?!”

“Be gentle.” Pixie explained nicely. “It’s not a laggy computer, it's the fabric of time. It flows at a specific speed in a specific direction and if you try and violently yank it backwards it’ll get fucked up. Is that what you’ve been doing? Is that all you’ve been doing? Goddamn, no wonder you caused a hurricane. When you fuck with nature, it tends to fuck back to autocorrect itself.”

Somehow, that made sense. The universe seemed to dislike whenever Max used her power she way she believed they were intended to be used. Pulling the strings backwards, saving Kate and Chloe’s lives, freezing time in place, jumping through photos- she’s been yanking the stream either a short jolt backwards, a long chunk backwards, or holding it in place. Max was never gentle when she used her powers. …Similar to how she was never very gentle with herself, unlike Pixie, who was known for her softness.

But the casual confirmation made Max’s insides rock like a ship in a stormy ocean. She was able to tell that day that the storm was connected to her, but now it was all too easy to understand why and what she did wrong.

“How.. how’re you supposed to use them?”

She must’ve heard the guilt in her voice, Pixie stood closer and rubbed the outside of her arm comfortingly. “Oh, Maxie, it’s not your fault. The first time I used my abilities, I was stuck in a coma for two weeks.”

“A coma?”

“Yeah, see? It’s hard to understand. One-ness with time and space didn’t have a manual, y’know?” Pixie said sweetly. “As for how I avoid upsetting the universe, it just requires a gentle touch, that’s all.”

Max leaned forward, desperate to hear more. Pixie was still able to use her abilities instead of pushing them away and pretending they didn’t exist. If that was possible, Max wants to learn too. “A gentle touch how?”

“Well, I don’t force the time steam to do anything. Usually I let it show me things.” Pixie explained. “I connect my consciousness to it, just by letting my mind wander until it touches, and sometimes I get visions- like my dream last night. Sometimes I let my consciousness drift away, and the stream picks it up like a loose pebble in- well, a stream. It carries me away to the end of all time. It’s a place between all realities, I like to call it the ‘crossroads’.”

Max’s eyes widened. “The… crossroads?”

Just then, Max heard the front door creak and she flinched to attention as it opened. Chloe was standing at the threshold, still in pjs, hair rumbled, seemingly flustered, like she’d run here. “Max, Jesus, there you are. I woke up and you’d just…” she teased a look over to Pixie. “Oh, Pix, hey. What’re you doing here?”

Pixie but down on her lip, like it could serve as a container to her enthusiasm. She looked over to Max out if he corner of her eye and Max realized this was her decision alone. Did she want anyone else in on this while she was still reeling from it all? Barely having any time to compose herself, to take in hardly anything?

She didn’t hesitate, she gave Pixie a small, self assured nod. Pixie turned to Chloe. “I had a dream last night.”

…

They’d migrated upstairs, back into Chloe and Max’s attic room by the time Pixie had finished talking. She was lounging on their bed, Max sitting straight next to her, Chloe sitting on Max’s desk chair pulled closer to the edge of the bed, backwards, taking it all in. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I can, it’s just… it’s hella insane.” Chloe chirped. “I had no idea anyone else was like you out there, Maximus!”

Max shook her head. “Me either.” After hearing all of it a second time, it was easier to comprehend and digest. She wasn’t the only time traveler. Or… Pixie had called it ‘being time-touched’. That sounded hella cool. “Pixie, can we go back to the- the… crossroads? Whatever you called it? What is that?”

Pixie turned to face her fully, anticipation twinkling in her eye. “Think of a spider web. The individual lines of silk are woven together. All attached to elsewhere else, but they move and converge in order to come together at the center of the web. Now imagine the individual lines of silk are timelines. They exist on their own, branching off from one another to create separate timelines. But they all converge from a single point, because that’s how timelines work. Now imagine the definition of our power is being able to physically sense those spider webs, particularly the one we’re in. If you allow yourself to follow the spider silk line to the end, you’d find yourself in the middle of the web, the convergence point of all timelines and realities. It’s a blank space that no one is supposed to be able to see, but I guess the universe fucks up some times because I go there all the time, and nothing bad has ever happened because of it.”

Max took a second for that to settle in. Not only was there a space between realities that Max had the power to visit, but alternate realities and timelines were real. And sure, Max has had her suspicions about alternate realities after her Week of Hell, but for it to be laid out so plainly and matter-of-fact-ly… it really put things in perspective. If the timelines were really as delicate as spiderweb silk, it made perfect sense that tugging on it like Max had been doing would unravel things. She was intrigued, of course, but she also a felt so stupid.  

Literally the day after finding out she had these abilities, she spend all night researching time travel and the laws of the universe, and all results concluded that time travel was impossible, or at least should be because the relative grounded-ness of the universe was unstable and easily broken. But Max didn’t heed those warnings because she hadn’t thought ahead enough. What a stupid teenage thing to do, why hadn’t she been more careful?

She took a sharp intake of breath. Stop beating down on yourself, it was a mistake. People make mistakes. You know this. You can’t be overly hard on yourself for mistakes you made over a year ago, you didn’t know then what you do now. You learned this lesson already during the aforementioned Week of Hell, no more bullying yourself. You can’t do the Perfect Right Thing all the time. And that’s okay. It’s okay.  

“Goddamn, no wonder you’re a songwriter. That was straight poetry.” Chloe remarked. “Though, I have no idea what any of it meant. Max?”

“I… I think I get it.” Max supplied. “Is there… I mean, you said when you went to the crossroads, nothing bad happened. Like, no time fuckery shit that caused huge tropical storms. So… is there any way that I would be able to do it too?” Intrusively, she looked over at Chloe, even if she wasn’t addressing her. “I haven’t used my powers since that day, I didn’t understand them and I didn't know what would happen if I did. I was afraid my help was… only hurting. That maybe these powers were meant for destructive purposes and little to nothing else. But it’s- it’s still part of me. Maybe a part I don’t like, but still there. I don’t want to have to push it away and ignore it, like it doesn’t exist. Like everything that happened didn’t happen. If there’s a way to use these powers without hurting anyone, I want to learn. Would you teach me to use the powers like you do?”

Pixie leaned forward, placing a hand on Max's wrist. Her smile glint with ease and excitement. “How much time do you have?”

Chloe sat up straighter. “Like, right now?!”

“Psssh,” Pixie scoffed, “it’s easy. It’ll take, like, ten minutes tops to show you the basics.”

Max’s stomach churned at the prospect. “Will it be hard? Is it, like, dangerous in any way? What do I gotta do? Like, what does the process involve? Does it need to be dark out? Will it look like I’m dead to anyone watching us?”

“Woah woah, Max, calm down.” Pixie giggled, waving her down with a free hand. “It’s easy, like I said. There’s not really much effort involved and no one’s gonna get hurt, swear to dog.”

“I wish you wouldn’t mock my isms.” Max frowned.

Pixie took a moment to resituate herself so that she was sitting criss-cross on the comforter facing Max. Noting it, Max moved to do the same, maybe sitting a little more uptight than Pixie was. She must’ve noticed it. “Relax Max. Hey- that rhymed!” She giggled to herself. “Now that I know I’ve based ninety percent of my lyrical genius off you, do I need your permission to keep writing my new song? I’m kind of on a roll with it.”

Max sighed. “Blanket permission. Chloe?”

“Blanket permission.” Chloe agreed. “I kinda want to go back and listen to your discography again now that I know most of your songs are based off me.”

“Wait, actually, speaking about the band, do they know about… this? About you?” Max asked.

“Um…” Pixie rattled off, “not really. They know I was in a coma for two weeks that one time, and I think they have suspicions that I’m not totally normal, but I haven’t said anything. Honestly, I didn't know if anyone would believe me.”

“Well, you’re in good company.” Max told her.

“Yeah.” Chloe agreed. “Wow. I guess this makes me the only one without time magic who knows now. Sweet.”

“How am I supposed to do this?” Max asked, anxiety fluttering about in her stomach. “I mean, what do I do?”

“First of all, I need you to chill.” Pixie reminded her. “Have you ever been high before?”

“No. You know that.”

“Okay, do you know what a ‘bad trip’ is?”

Max bit in her lower lip. She’s certain she’s heard the phrase before, but… “…No? I don’t think so.”

“Okay so, when you get high, you’re supposed to relax into it. That way, it's an enjoyable experience and it’s super chill.” Pixie explained. “A bad trip is when you get high but you’re freaking out the whole time. Then when you’re high, it’s super unpleasant and your anxious about everything until it wears off.”

“Oh, that sounds…”

“Awful.” Chloe interjected. “Literally awful. Zero out of ten, do not recommend.”

Max looked from her and back to Pixie. “Is that, like-?”

“Yeah. If you’re freaking out, well…” Pixie paused again, probably trying to think of another metaphor. “The crossroads is a completely blank space in between realities. Meaning there’s literally nothing there until we show up. It’s not supposed to be perceived by the human mind. Our brains will create something of a placeholder to make sense of what’s around us. If you’re freaking out… you’ll probably be thinking of a lot of stuff. And that empty space will soon fill with all the stuff you’re thinking about- big insecurities, fears, that shit. You’ll be stuck in a nightmare basically until you figure out a way to wake up.”

A nightmare? Max wondered. “I’ve been through something like that. It.. wasn’t super fun.”

“Exactly!” Pixie emphasized. “But if you ease into it, you’ll be fine. Trust me, I’ve done it a million times.”

“Are you’re sure this is such a good idea? Didn’t you say you were in a coma the first time you did this?”

“I got lost.” Pixie explained easily. “Not my proudest moment. I just saw so much stuff and got a bit carried away trying to see it all. I forgot how to wake up for a while. But that won’t happen this time, because unlike me doing this for the first time, you’re not alone!”

Her smile was wide and as it often was- infectious. Max found herself smiling back. She was so lucky she accidentally went into the boys bathroom that one time last year and, like a butterfly effect, ended up becoming my friends with all of these guys. Max’s gaze drifted over to Chloe as well. Pixie was right, she wasn’t alone.

“Don’t look at me. We need to jet to work in half an hour.” Chloe inputted. “Take as much time as you need to jerk off in the middle of a spiderweb or whatever it is. I’ll just sit here and watch.” She seemed to catch herself moments after, and her face went red. “I mean- not watching you jerk off, that’s- you know. You know what I meant.”

“I know what you meant, Chloe.”

Chloe chuckled, clearly still trying to get the taste of foot out of her mouth. Max found it kind of charming, but just as quickly stomped down on the feeling. She should get in the habit of not letting herself feel that way anymore now that she new Chloe wasn’t reciprocated to it.

“Are you ready?” Pixie asked. “One hundo percent sure you want to do this?”

“‘One hundo’?” Max repeated.

“What? You still say ‘wowzers’ in the year two-thousand-fifteen.” Pixie objected. “I can abbreviate hundred to ‘hundo’.”

“Uh, that’s fair.” Max relented, looking down at her crossed legs.

“Okay, Max, hold my hands.” Pixie instructed. Max reached out, and they held their hands between them. “Now take a deep breath. It’s going to be so cool. You’ll see.” 

Max did as instructed. Deep breath in, then out. Max hadn’t used her powers in a fucking while. But that didn’t mean they were gone. When she reached out, she was still able to feel the tendrils of time at the ends of her fingertips. Some nights, it felt like it was calling out to her. It was a whole part of herself that she was ignoring. Even though Max thought this whole time that her powers only brought pain and destruction, it never felt right. But what was she supposed to do? Use them anyway, knowingly hurting people in the process? 

Now though, she couldn’t deny that she was filled with hope for the first time in ages. Maybe it wasn’t all bad. Maybe there was a good side to her powers.

“Now I want you to reach out with your mind.” Pixie continued to instruct. “Feel the strings of time hanging overhead, let your mind psychically touch them. Don’t grab into them, just a gentle touch.”

For the first time in a while, Max felt herself reach out. She felt them where they always were, strings in a neat row. Organized. Perfect. Flowing exactly as it was meant to. She was reminded how messed up those strings had been the last time she’d intentionally reached out for them. They were so orderly now. 

Farther down the line, Max could tell someone else was pressing against them too. That must be Pixie’s presence. It was odd being able to sense that. 

“Now imagine yourself as a small pebble. You’re at the bottom of the river now, stuck to the mud.” Pixie described. “Keep holding onto my hands, but allow yourself to be loosened from that mud keeping your hostage. Allow the stream to pick you up and carry you down the flow of the river. Don’t be afraid.”

Max did as instructed, and found that it came frighteningly easy to her. She could feel the push and flow of time headed in one direction, like as Pixie had described, a river. She just had to let it take her. She closed her eyes, relaxing, and felt herself be carried off. It was like unhooking something, or letting a dog off its leash. Soon, Max could feel something heavy gently lift her up, and then blanket her in darkness.

…

Max didn’t brace for impact and, for a split second, resisted the urge to shiver from the cold that was gone just as soon as it came. There was a single sensation of freezing, then, nothing. There was no sensation from any corner of her body or mind, just a vauge sense of floating and existing. 

When Max opened her eyes (or eyes in a sense, as she’d been separated from her body and wasn’t entirely sure she even had eyes here), she was faced with blinding white nothing in every direction. The idea of blinding white brought Max back to that chair in the dark room- the white walls and tiles, the cold syringe tip breaking through the skin of the back of her neck- but just as quickly Max felt the idea of someone squeezing her hand. She looked to her immediate left and saw Pixie, just as Max remembered her. 

“Hey, hey, take a deep breath, alright? You’re okay, Max.”

Max did as instructed, a deep breath in and out. She hadn’t realized her need for it, or that she’d started to freak out. But Pixie was here, and Max was fine. She was fine.

More so, she was in awe. There was absolute blank nothingness wherever she looked, and her body- or whatever corporal form her body was- felt so strange. Airy and floaty and bizarre. It didn’t feel bad strange, just strange. 

As though waking from a daze, her vision clearing sharper into focus, Max bagan to see splotches of color in the whiteness. Then they got sharper and sharper and Max realized she was staring at large photographs floating through space. On her right, there was a photo of Max and Chloe on their bed. It was the same position she’d woken up in this morning. Max seemed to be in the process of hanging up her phone to return back to sleep.

“Wowser, what are these?” Max asked finally. Her voice sounded strange in her own ears, as if some part of her knows there shouldn’t be sound here.

“You’re seeing them?” Pixie asked. “They’re the end of alternate timelines. Right behind us is our timeline-“ Max turned around and, sure enough, there was a large, printed, digital photo of Max and Pixie sitting on her bed with Chloe on the desk chair watching them- “and the closest ones around us are the timelines that have branched off from us recently.”

Ah, so if their minds are filling the space, maybe they see it differently. It makes sense for Max to see photographs. She wonders what Pixie sees.

Max pointed to the one on her right that she’d seen earlier. The photo turned crispy and red around the edges until it burned down to the center- like an old film roll being burnt through- and when the image in the photo was gone, a new one faded in. It was the same scene, but Vanessa was shaking Max gently awake, Pixie standing next to her, awaiting Max. “So this is an alternate universe where-?”

“Where you hung up on me and your mom had to wake you up?” Pixie supplied. “Yep. The farther out we go, the farther from our timeline we’ll get to see.”

Max took a step forward, but then hesitated, looking out behind her at her own universe. “I want to explore, but… how will we be able to find our own timeline again?”

“It’s easy, you can feel which one you belong to.” Pixie explained. “Wonder why we can’t see anyone else here? Because even if there was anyone else here- like other time touched people or even alternate versions of ourselves- every universe exists on a different wavelength and we wouldn’t be able to see each other. We exist on the same wavelength as our own timeline, so we just have to focus if we want to find it again.” She chuckled. “I learned that one the hard way.”

“Oh, that’s right, you got lost in here for two weeks.” Max recalled. It must’ve appeared like she was in a coma to everyone else. “How’d you get so lost?”

“You’d be surprised.” Pixie detailed bashfully. “The littlest choices spiral into completely different lives you could have lived. If you had a lifetime, you could run to the edges and find thousands of universes where no life ever even existed on earth. Not that I’ve ever done that, but you can assume they’re out there. Plus, time here flows kinda weird, I always end up staying way longer than I mean to.”

Woah, time flowed weird here? How long had Max been here already? She had work to get to, and Chloe might freak out if she can’t wake Max back up. Was it a good idea to get into this now when Max had other responsibilities? This might've been the coolest thing she’d had privy to in a long time, and she wanted to explore this new facet of her power, but… She really didn’t want to be late to work. Her co-workers were cool and all but her manager could be pretty strict and Max needed this job- she and Chloe were saving up for that RV (or possibly a trailer, they’re undecided)…

At Max’s startled expression, Pixie backtracked. “But, of course, we don’t have to go now. We can head back and go later when you have time.”

> Turn back

> Explore

“Maybe… maybe we could explore. Just a little.” Max suggested. “I don’t want to be late for work today. Earth Arts has a birthday party scheduled today and I’m supposed to be leading it.”

As she said it, another photo materialized into their plane, branching off from their universe. Even now, all the way out here, the decisions Max made held consequence. Goes to show how wrong she used to be when she thought her actions didn’t matter to anyone.

“You sure you want to risk it, then?” Pixie asked again. “We could totally lose track of time here.”

“Yeah, I think so.” Max replied. “If I’m being honest… I’ve spent the last year and a half hating my powers, thinking they were inherently bad and something I should never want to use again because it was only capable of hurting people in the long run, even if it felt like it was a good thing in the moment. And even now, I feel nervous. Like at any moment, something catastrophic is going to happen because I’m here. But… I remember how confident I was that one week before the storm. I felt powerful, self assured. I’ve retained a lot of that, but... I want to relearn all this. I hate ignoring and hiding away parts of myself, like I’m ashamed of it. I want to be whole.”

Pixie looked up at her (she was the only friend Max had that was short enough to do that) with wide eyes. “That was so poetic. Can I steal that from you?”

“Have you ever written about your own life’s experience?”

“Why would I? I’ve never had a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. I’m boring.” Pixie stated plainly.

“What the-?! You can travel through the multiverse!” Max exclaimed. “How is that remotely boring?!”

“I just meant my love life.” Pixie shrugged. “That’s the kind of stuff I’m interested in anyway.”

“Such a hopeless romantic.” Max sighed. Is this how Chloe felt whenever Max described herself as boring when she had the ability to rewind time? Maybe. But then again, Chloe said all that stuff about her being amazing and a super hero and then turned around and admitted Max wasn’t the kind of person she could see herself dating. Because she wasn’t as exciting as Rachel. So. “So. Where do we go first?”

“First things first,” she began, “don’t let go of my hand. You’ll get lost.”

“I won’t get lost.”

“You totally will.” Pixie argued. “You’re a wanderer. Every time I leave you alone in a new place you look at and or touch everything that isn’t bolted to the floor.”

Max pouted, opting out of the desire to remind Pixie that she’s pretty similar in that way. “Curiosity isn’t a sin.”

“But it is what killed the cat!” Pixie quipped. “Don’t let go.”

“Alright, I promise.”

“And with that underway, let’s just head straight forward, take a look at whatever we happen to run into.”

Pixie let Max lead them through it. The first few steps were made hesitantly, as it was a little hard to tell what was the floor and what wasn’t because everything looked the same. But with a few more steps Max was confidently leading them through the crossroads. 

A lot of the timelines in front of her looked more or less the same as her own. 

When she asked about it, Pixie told her “This one time, I had a really hard time deciding between bacon and an egg sandwich for breakfast, and I ended up going with the bacon. There’s a timeline where I chose the egg sandwich and I ended up burning the eggs and having a terrible day. That happened to be the day when Tammi offered me half her skittles and in that universe, I declined it because I knew I would just re-taste my failure breakfast from earlier.”

“You ate the burnt egg sandwich?”

“And because I refused the skittles, I was never involved with the band.” Pixie concluded. “It’s crazy the little things that matter way more than you’d think they would.”

“Yeah.” Max agreed. “Crazy.”

The farther and farther Max went into the crossroads, the more she felt like she’d been here before. The blinding white, the photos burning and changing… Max felt like she’d seen it behind her eyelids in some other sphere. Or something. It was weird. But she also understood what Pixie meant when she was certain Max would want to wander off. She could get lost here.

Pixie was the kind of person who walked around with her head in the clouds, her mind elsewhere. As Pixie walked alongside her, eyes flitting over everything, Max got the sense that this was where her mind was so often. Maybe not literally, but she was a very dreamy person, and Max was with her in her element. She wished she had her camera with her to capture that feeling. Although- would photography even work here? 

As she wandered farther in- already feeling the loss at a sense of time (how long had she been here anyway?) the photos startled looking less and less like her own life. She saw herself as a member of the band, a guitarist. Max hadn’t played the guitar in ages. She saw herself with a different tattoo on her wrist- commonly a doe or a clock. She saw herself with shorter hair, and longer. Happier, less so. Sleeping, wide awake at a party, up late studying at college, at her Blackwell dorm.

Most commonly, she saw herself with Chloe. She saw the dozens of ways they could have gotten together before now. She saw them yesterday outside Tammi’s room door, tears falling down Max’s face. She saw them in Arcadia Bay, lips together in front of the memorial wall, sharpies forgotten. She saw them in the bathroom at the Beanbarn, Chloe holding the old polaroid between them as they pressed ever closer. She saw them at the gig the day before that, standing even closer than Max remembered in the crowd. She saw them and she saw them and she saw them and she was grateful Pixie didn’t say anything. Max wasn’t sure what she’d say back.

There was so many instances where they could have had that conversation before now, but now that Max knows Chloe’s end goal is different from hers… she’s a little glad Chloe never let them that close. What would have happened after? A gentle rejection? That kinda would’ve sucked. The way Max figured it out also sucked but she’s still glad (in a way) that that’s how she found out, instead of through direct confrontation. That would have sucked even more, probably.

They were getting pretty far from their original timeline now. Max was starting to see heavily drastic changes in the photos as they shifted and faded in and out. Suddenly, she realized why. “We must be near the week of the storm.”

“Is… do you think it’s a good idea to go near that?” Pixie asked nicely. “That sounds like a lot to look through at eight… whatever time it is in the morning.” 

“There’s only, like, one or two things I want to look at, I swear.”

“Okay, but… only one or two things.” Pixie emphasized. “We’ve been in here a while, I don’t want you to miss work.”

“Right, totally.” Max assured her. 

The biggest choice of her life could be in here. More than anything… Max wanted to see what the other option would have been. It was a weird thing to want to see- knowing she’d made the right choice that day by the lighthouse didn’t kill her morbid curiosity to see what her life looked like without Chloe in it. 

As she walked slowly around the area, she saw Kate on that roof again, Max tripping up on her words. Max smiling awkwardly as Chloe put the handicap fund’s money in her jacket’s pocket in the principal’s office. Max shying away from Chloe’s dare the next morning. 

Then, she caught sight of something startlingly familiar. Max in a magenta cardigan, sitting by Chloe’s hospital-esque bedside. The universe where William lived, and Chloe got paralyzed in a car accident.

Max froze.

“Is that what you were looking for?” Pixie asked her. “Chloe… Jesus, what happened?”

“Long, uh, story.” Max stuttered. She hesitated, not sure if she wanted the closer look. She could spend a while here, seeing how things changed for the Max and Chloe in this timeline. And she still wanted to find that other timeline and check things out there before work.

> Revisit this timeline

> Continue to look

Max shifted closer to the photo. The edges burnt out the image, and a new one faded in. Looks like they’d had an argument. Max looked confused while Chloe looked hurt and angry. Then the photo burnt up again and another image replaced it. Max was in her Blackwell dorm alone, it was raining outside. 

Then Max was running through the storm. Then she was back by Chloe’s bedside, like she was pleading her case before a judge, Joyce and William arguing about something behind them. Then they were in Joyce’s minivan, driving through wreckage. Then Max was at Chloe’s side on the rocky gravel ground, the car totaled to their left and Max’s leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Rain poured down on them. Chloe looked terrified and unable to move as Max tried to get closer to her without upsetting an already upset leg. Max didn’t see Joyce or William. 

Then Max was in a hospital with a cane, leaning heavily on it, like she was having difficulty walking. Max didn’t see the problem at first, until she noticed the odd way her broken leg had healed, all jagged and with her foot pointed inwards like a pigeon’s. Max must’ve stayed with her leg broken for too long, or maybe moved too much to try and help Chloe and damaged it even farther. 

Then Chloe, in her wheelchair, Max with her crutch, and Joyce were standing in front of a very familiar memorial wall. Joyce was pointing out a name. William. Fucking hell. William died during the storm? What was it all for, then?

The image burnt out and soon another one replaced it. Chloe laying in a hospital bed. She looked tired, even sicker than she had been before. She was on some kind of oxygen thing. Max sat by her bedside, leaned over to place a gentle kiss on her oxygen mask. 

Max’s breath caught on her throat. Even here, when Chloe was very obviously on death’s door and William already there, Max and Chloe had found one another. Chloe’s smile looked genuine. The last time she was in this reality, Chloe had asked Max to kill her. What had changed? Max reached out, as if she could pat down the hair on Chloe’s head, and then-

Pixie caught her wrist and pulled her away, now holding onto both of her hands. “Hey hey hey! Not so close!”

“Hm?” Max hummed, snapping out of her trance. “Sorry, I… why not?”

“You’ll fall in.”

“Fall in?”

“Yeah. You know, into that timeline.” Pixie explained. 

“Why’s that a bad thing?”

“The universe doesn't like it.” She insisted. “You know, it messes with the order of things. Same way rewinding and fast forwarding and freezing time does.”

“You can fast forward?!”

“Max.”

“No, I hear you, I won’t fall in.”

Pixie held her hands right. “Well, I’m glad you got to see what you wanted to see, because we need to jet.”

Max’s stomach dropped. “Like, now?”

“Yeah, we’ve been here way longer than we should’ve.” At Max’s face, Pixie tried to lighten up. “Hey, we can come back later. Well, maybe not super soon cause we have that gig in a few days and the Highseas are going to be practicing basically every second for the rest of the week. But soon.”

Max bit her lips together. “Yeah. Soon.”

Pixie beamed. “Now let’s head back.”

Max trailed after Pixie as she guided them to where they needed to go. She shouldn’t feel so let down. They’d come back soon. Eventually. Max really shouldn’t let her nosiness dictate her like this, she already knew that that timeline would be miserable, but she couldn’t help being just a smudge curious about it.

Eventually, Max sensed a faint tug coming from somewhere. Max remembered during that week where she used her powers frequently, how that tugging felt. It was coming from one of the photos. Pixie led them closer and Max caught a glimpse of Chloe sitting on the desk chair still. Yeah, that was her Chloe.

“Final stop.” Pixie told her. “You ready to head back?”

“I’m right behind you.”

Pixie took the first step, and as promised, Max was right behind.

…

The sensation hit her all at once- the feeling of clothes on her body, of the bed beneath her, of Pixie’s hands still locked with hers. Her head was no longer pounding. When she retracted her hand from Pixie’s and went to touch the space beneath her nose, it was dry. Nothing hurt. She sucked in breath, like she’d forgotten how to. But the air hanging around her was thick and she choked on it, coughing.

Pixie woke beside her, and Chloe spun around on her chair to face them, at alert. Max was back in her room again, safe and sound, like nothing had happened at all.

“Shit, you okay, rockstar?” Chloe asked.

Max recognized the smell. “Were you smoking? Seriously?”

“Uh, no.” Chloe replied sheepishly, and Max caught her attempting to lower her hand.

“Oh my god, there’s literally a cigarette on your hand right now.”

Chloe threw her arms out wide to either side of her, subtlety completely gone. “You were gone for a long time, okay? I was freaking out.” She justified, shooting up and out of her chair. “We’re about to be late for work, by the way.”

“Oh shit, are you cereal?” Max exclaimed, jumping up after her. “What time is it?!”

“Ten after nine.”

“Ten after-?!” Max took a deep breath in and out. She turned back to the bed. “Pixie, I love you, but I’m kicking you out now.”

Pixie smiled, a thin lipped grin. “I’ll see you two later.”

Max doesn’t keep track of Chloe, so she didn’t see how Chloe rushed to discard her cigarette in the blue ashtray Max kept for her on her work desk, and she doesn’t see Pixie’s mad dash for the door. She jetted over to her free standing wardrobe and threw the drawers open, picking a shirt and jeans at random. She doesn’t pay attention to Chloe when throwing her shirt off and finding a bra to put on. When she’s dressed comfortably (read; when she’s dressed in a huge Nirvana t shirt and baggy, worn jeans), she turns to see Chloe pulling a leather jacket around her shoulders, beanie already resting comfortably on her head. When she turns around, Max caught her low cut shirt with the zombie hand on it. 

“Hurry hurry, into the truck.” Max instructed, grabbing her messenger bag and cell phone and dashing down the ladder.

She can hear Chloe on her heels and they race through the hallway and down the stairs. She has to pause at the doorway to put her shoes on, and tie up the laces. She nearly missed her mom’s “Later, girls!” as she swung the front door open and all but leapt outside. Chloe slammed the door shut behind her and Max hoped her mom would lock it after them. 

Chloe parked down the street because Seattle fucking sucks and everything is parallel parking and there aren’t garuntees that you can park near the house you live in. Chloe quickly surpasses Max in their dash to the truck because of her long legs. One day, Max will be faster than her. That smoking’s gonna catch up to her eventually. It was inevitable.

Max reached the side door and jingled the handle. “Hold on,” Chloe barked. She was fussing with something in her hands- the keys. Max heard the doors click and she threw the door open, then jumped inside. 

Chloe was in the driver’s seat soon after, starting the car and pulling out of their spot. Only once they were on the actual road did Max relax. “Oh my dog. You think we’ll make it on time?”

“Only dog himself knows.” Chloe replied. “You doing okay there, time tripper?”

“Yeah. I mean, winded, but yeah.”

“I meant your actual time trip, dude!”

“Oh! Yeah!” Max chirped. Chloe laughed beside her. Max takes a second to breathe over the joyous sound, her puffs of air polluting the car much like Chloe’s smoking habit. “It was fucking amazing, Chloe.”

“Was it?” Chloe asked, a wiry grin. “You were sitting so still, it was kinda scary.”

“It was!” Max confirmed cheerily. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but… jeez, I don’t even know how to describe it. I felt all floaty, and there was a bunch of alternate timelines changing and expanding all around me- I don’t know how to explain how it made me feel but, I liked being able to use my powers again. You know, without anyone getting hurt.”

“I’m glad too.” Chloe agreed easily. “Return of the Super Max.”

Max chuckled. “Let’s not get carried away.”

Chloe’s laughter verbaited through the interior of the truck and into the passenger's seat. Infectious. Max tried biting down on her lip. She had something to hide, now. Max had never tried to hide her true feelings from Chloe before, but now? It felt necessary to keep the peace. She kinda hated that.

Wowser, that’s a lot for one morning.

“Can you believe Pixie’s a time traveler like you?” Chloe continued. “What’re the fucking odds?! Out of everyone in Seattle we befriended.”

“I know.”

“You think there’s even more of you guys out there?”

Max paused. “Shit.”

“Right?!” Chloe exclaimed urgently. “Dude, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I mean, think of the implications! There could be literally hundreds of you guys spread out across the planet who all think they’re the only one. Or maybe there’s a secret society of them. Or-“

“Chloe, Chloe, Chloe, one thing at a time, please.” Max insisted. “It’s too early.”

Chloe laughed again. “Aye aye, captain. My bad. You prepared for today's colorful patronage?”

“Hardly. We’ve got that birthday party scheduled for today.” 

At a red stop light, Chloe’s truck stopped and she was able to turn her attention to Max. “Boo.”

“I know.” Max sighed deeply.

Chloe paused for a moment, just looking at her. Then she reached around her neck and took off her three bullet necklace. “Well, with a chaotic day ahead of you, you’ll need a good luck charm to keep you from being torn apart by youngins.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “A good luck charm?”

“Sure. Always works for me.”

“Since when is your necklace a good luck charm?”

“Since I wore it while cheating death. Now c’mere.”

Max bit down on the inside of her cheek, but nonetheless leaned forward. Chloe raised her arms around Max’s head, placing the necklace around her neck. The bullets fell down to her chest and Chloe pulled back. Then she reached out again to adjust the chain so that the clasp was against the back of her neck.

“There. Lucky you.” 

The light turned green.

She turned the corner and a flock of pigeons were startled from their hangout on the side of the road. They fly overhead, and Max watches them go. She hears the song on the radio, picked up likely from whatever Chloe had in here last. 

I remember when we ran from the pool

All the decorations up in your room

And I couldn’t find the right words to use 

But I knew that you knew

It seems to long, it seemed so long 

The moments that stay, they all turned out wrong

When I look around, you’re gone.

Oh oh oh-oh oh-oh

Oh oh oh-oh oh-oh

The song is from the Wallows, that’s one of the bands Max listens to, not Chloe. Max wonders what CD is in there, because this was left off from the last time Chloe had been in her truck listening to music, which she’d been doing alone. She wondered if Chloe had put some of Max’s music on her own CDs or if she was playing one of Max’s in the car without her. Max squirmed and struggled with the feeling unrequited until Chloe pulled to the curb in front of Earth Art.

The pottery studio was snug between a yoga place and a Mexican restaurant. Max hadn’t been to either. One- because she didn’t like yoga, and two- the Mexican restaurant was always very loud and just didn’t seem like Max’s kind of place. 

Max jumped out of the truck, slamming the door shut behind her, and raced to the sidewalk.

“Have fun at a ten year old’s birthday party!” Chloe sniped at her.

“She’s turning eight!” Max snapped back, right as Chloe took off to her internship, driving down the road and out of sight.

Max took a deep breath, fingers playing with the bullets on the necklace dangling in the center of her chest. That was a longass morning, and it’s probably going to be a longass day as well. Best to just push it all from her mind and focus on earning her worth today.

She hurried in past the doors and was greeted with a rush of noise- mostly children squealing and shouting over one another. The two long tables in the back were set up for the party already, and mostly full too. The parents of the children were standing around, mostly stopping their kids from knocking over the delicate pots and paintable figures on the walls. 

At the front desk, Max’s co worker who she’s pretty sure is named Jamie stood up straight. “Oh thank god.” She breathed in an exhale. “You’re one minute off from being late, I thought you were gonna bail and I was gonna have to do this by myself.”

Max hurried past her and into the back room behind the counter, dropping her messenger bag off on a hook and swiftly grabbing her apron off its hanger. “That sounds like an actual nightmare.”

She had to fish around in her bag to procure her name tag, then fastened it on the apron before going to tie it around her back. Jamie came in the back room behind her. Jamie was older than her, edging thirty, but never treated Max like a little kid. She’d started working here sometime after Max left working here to attend Blackwell, and before Max sighed on again after her return to Seattle. She was nice enough, but she usually didn’t remember Max’s name.

Max turned around to face her. “Not that I don’t like the kids.”

Jamie seemed to catch herself when Max did. “Oh, definitely not.” She agreed. “We don’t even really know them yet.”

“I’d never say something bad about kids I don’t even really know yet.”

“For sure.”

“But it could be a little rowdy if there’s only one person holding down the fort.”

“And we don’t want that.” Jamie concluded. “I sure love working with children.”

They shared a thin lipped smile. This was going to suck balls. “Is Clare here yet?” Their manager.

“Not yet, it’s just us.”

“Awesome.” Max sighed with deep reluctance. Two young adults verses a gaggle of elementary school girls. She grabbed the pen on the desk and sighed herself in with the paper on the wall. Clocked in. Time for action.  

She followed Jamie out into the main area once again and then over to where the kids were congregated.

“Hey there, everyone!” Jamie called, using the loudest customer service she could. It took a moment for the kids to realize she was speaking, and a few of their parents nudging them back to their seats. “My name is Miss Jamie, as this here is my friend Miss Max! We’re so glad we’re all here to celebrate Sophia’s eighth birthday!”

Max initiated it, a loud cheer and then clapping. The kids followed. Max was able to spot Sophia at the head of the table, a little blonde girl surrounded by friends.

“Are we ready to get this party started?!” Jamie hyped. Hearing the drastic shift from her voice earlier to now was really bizarre. How was she able to shift her entire mood like that? Max wasn’t nearly as good as her at it.

The kids gave another loud cheer. 

“Okay, now I want everyone to get out of your seats and pick one thing from the racks on the walls that you want to paint and take it back to your seat. And make sure-“ by the time she’d finished saying it, the kids were all already up and racing to the ends of the room. “And make sure to be careful with the ceramics! Ask us if you need any help!”

Max shared a suffering look with Jamie. This was going to be an absurdly long day. 

As the children ran chaos around the room, Max ended up nearly tripping over four of them and running to the closet to fetch a broom when one of the kids inevitably knocked something over and shattered it all over the hard wood floor. Goodbye, ceramic horse. You will be missed.

When all the kids finally settled down, Jamie offered the next step; getting paint. Max had to interrupt and settle an argument about what colors a star fish was allowed to be, as one kid thought they were only allowed to be pink due to SpongeBob influence. 

Finally, they were all sitting down to paint. Being around kids was an easy distraction to things that the mind would rather be on, because kids don’t have an ‘off’ switch and need constant supervision. They’re minds are always running wild with things they could be doing or things they’d rather be doing. Chloe was a lot like that when they were kids- and even now, if she’s being honest. Max could turn to Chloe at any time and she’d have an idea for how their day could be planned out. 

So it was predictably hard to not think of Chloe. Max’s mind swirled around all the alternate timelines she’d witnessed that morning, her thoughts lingering like the kiss she’d placed on Chloe’s oxygen mask. Or… another Max. Whatever. What was Max meant to think about all that?

So many of Max’s alternate lives and she was by Chloe’s side in nearly all of them. What made this universe different? And what did the universe without Chloe at all look like? She didn’t have all that much time to spend thinking about it, because she was stuck wiping down the tables as Jamie led the kids to pizza and cake. 

She watched them out of the corner of her eye. She’d already noticed that Sophia had a clear favorite out of her friends, the other little girl with the dark curls who’s been hanging off her arm all morning. Max had caught her name earlier when she’d asked for help with the paint brushes- Nadia. She was louder than Sophia, always talking, always engaging, always mid story. Sophia was always giggling when she spoke. 

Two peas in a pod.

Two best friends.

Max’s heart tried not to ache when Nadia leaned over to whisper something in Sophia’s ear, pizza dangling from her hand, hazardous and likely to fall to the ground, and Sophia broke into squeals and laughter. She had the itch to take a picture of the moment, freeze them in their youth before they grew older and things would inevitably complicate their relationship, but she knew that was generally frowned upon. And also not allowed at work.

“Hey.” Max looked up, startled. There was a girl- around Max’s age- with dark hair, framed by red dye. “I didn’t know your name was ‘Max’.”

Max blinked at her. “Um…”

“I’m Winona.” The girl reminded her. “We met at that party. The house band was playing? It was a few months ago.”

Max attempted to blink herself into recognition. She must be talking about one of the Highseas’ gigs, only, Max had been to dozens of those at this point and can’t remember which one she’d seen Winona at. She dug around her brain until- “Oh! Yeah, I remember.” Winona had been the girl who’d flirted with her without her knowing. Chloe had had to point it out for her. Sheesh, how embarrassing. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too.” Winona smiled cheerfully. She cast her eyes around the room, likely just as unsure of what to do now as Max was. “This is uh- this looks like a cool place to work at. Are you into pottery too? Or do you just like all kinds of art.”

Max discarded her wet rag onto the table. Jamie didn’t need her right now, the kids were occupied by stuffing their mouths with pizza anyway. Winona must remember her as the girl with the camera from the party. “Uh, I’m mostly just a photographer.”

“That makes sense, you definitely looked like you knew what you were doing at that party.” Winona understood. “Cool. My parents wouldn’t let me go to college for art, they think it’s a waste of time or something. Lame.”

Max fidgeted with her fingers. Talking to new people never got easier. “What would you have studied?”

“Film.” Winona supplied. “I would have wanted to be a writer.”

“I would have loved to watch your works.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say, because Winona smiled brightly and looked down at her shoes. It took her a second- like she was gathering courage- before looking back up and addressing her again. “So, hey. You seem really cool, and I’d like to hang out with you sometime.” She reached into her pocket, and Max froze as Winona took out her phone and unlocked it, opening some app and offering it to her. “So uh… yeah. What’s your number?”

> Accept

> Decline

Max isn’t entirely sure what drove her to do it, but Max takes the phone from her hand and types her number in. Chloe had told her with certainty that Winona had been interested in her, so this was flirting. This girl was flirting with her right now, and probably asking her out on a date. The only other time this had ever happened to her was when it came from Warren, and Max doesn't like to count that because she hadn’t seen Warren that way. And really didn’t want to try. 

But anyway, Max was flattered by it. As of last night, she’d been convinced of her long held suspicion that she just wasn’t the kind of person anyone would look at and go “hmm yes I would want to kiss and go on dates and maybe be sexually intimate with this girl.” She’d already thought this before, of course. Max was boring personality wise, and physically very average. Until last night, however, she’d held out hope that maybe Choe saw her as more than that. But since, that hope had been squashed out like a bug on a window with a newspaper. 

So maybe Max just wanted to prove to herself that it was possible for someone to look at her with romantic or sexual intent. Or maybe she wanted to prove it to Chloe. Or maybe a pretty girl was asking her out and Max just wanted to give her a chance. It could be nice, and Winona was very pretty.

Max handed the phone back with a smile. Winona matched it. “Cool. I’ll text you later.”

“I’ll count on it,” Max replied awkwardly. 

The remaining parts of the birthday party went off without a hitch, and Max was left cleaning up after as they opened for the rest of the day. Sophia’s parents had planned a private party, so the rest of the studio had been closed. Now though, they had to get everything ready for opening. Wipe down all the tables, removing remnants of cake and pizza. Store the kids’ finished pottery in the back for glazing and firing. And finally, open the front doors.

It was a slow morning, allowing Max time to sweep the floors and restock their selection of ceramics with Jamie at the front desk before anyone showed up. A few people came in around noon. Couples or groups of friends. Lots of moms with young kids. People coming in to pick up their finished ceramics. Marie showed up at around one and began the glazing and firing for the finished ceramics from yesterday and earlier.

And so, she had that spare time to think, and she wished she hadn’t. Today was the most full day she’d had in a while. It kinda felt like everything was happening all at once. Strangely, she didn’t regret giving her number to Winona. She doubted anything would come of it, but maybe it would make her less insecure about… all the things she’d been insecure about recently. Stupid.

She clocked out at two o’clock and hung up her apron. She had to wait outside for ten minutes for her mom to come pick her up. Chloe was still at her internship and would probably be there for a while. The ride was short, her mom asked her about her day and Max told her about it selectively. 

Then she was home, scrubbing between her fingers to get rid of the paint stained there. She found that the song that had played earlier in Chloe’s truck was stuck in her head, looping round and round, repeating the small part of it that she knew. And so, when she returned upstairs, she found her headphones in her dresser drawer and found the song on YouTube by searching the lyrics in Google. She’d been able to recognize it as the Wallows before, but couldn’t remember the song title.

She discovered that it was actually called “Remember When.” She played it, letting her phone lay beside her, open on the comforter, as she lay on her back with her headphones on and listened.

Thought I saw your shadow under the door

Just a trick of the light I’ve seen before

I can never tell what’s real anymore

Anymore, anymore…

This was stupid. The way her chest ached was stupid. Nothing had even really even happened. 

What would life look like without Chloe? Max wondered, the morbid thought creeping up at her again. If the absolute worst thing were to come of this, what would life look like for me? If the truth came out and I got rejected in the absolute worst way possible, what would that be like? There’s got to be a universe out there where that’s happened.

Of course, Max’s mind went immediately to the crossroads. The other choice. The timeline for that was out there, Max knew it was. It was eating her up inside- what does that universe look like?

Max paused the song, lowering her headphones to rest around her neck, and opened her texts. 

[Max]

What’re u doing right now?

[Pixie]

Band practice :(

Lawrence is here distracting us 

He’s trying to get Tammi to work on their group project 

But we have actually played a few songs this time

Did u wanna crash?

Max was nearly startled with how quickly Pixie had responded. She hesitated, her fingers over the keyboard. She didn’t want to interrupt their practice.

[Max]

Nah, I just wanted to know when u were free

You know, for the thing

[Pixie]

U mean showing u how to navigate the crossroads?

[Max]

Yes that! ^~^

[Pixie]

Probs not until the weekend. Sorryyy but u gotta have a lot of time set aside so no one freaks out if u accidudenshsallysoend too much time there.

*accidentally spend 

And we’ll be practicing pretty much all day today and tomorrow for the gig :(

[Max]

No no ur good!! I’m just nervous @__@ and I wanna know more

U know me, hella nosey as per usual

[Pixie]

Lol, love u girl!

See u soon

And don’t be shy, come crash our rehearsal!!

[Max]

As soon as Chloe gets home

[Pixie]

The more the merrier <3

She dropped her phone onto her stomach. Stupid. Of course Pixie was busy. She sat up on her bed. It was unfortunate, Max was super not busy right now. Chloe was at her internship at the auto repair shop, her parents were both at work- her house was empty. And it would remain that way for hours yet. And it was only three in the afternoon, she had the rest of the day.

… Did she need Pixie to go to the crossroads? Yeah, having a guide would be super helpful, but Max knew how to get there on her own. She knew the ropes. The basics. She knew how to get back. She could do it on her own, couldn’t she? It didn’t feel like a very difficult thing to do or get a handle on. Max was fairly confident that she could do it in her own.

But should she? She didn’t have anywhere to be right now, her parents wouldn’t freak if she was just sitting here asleep when they got back home, would they? No, they never really cared about that stuff. And she’d been done by then anyway. Max wouldn’t get distracted this time. 

> Go to the crossroads

> Wait for the weekend

She laid flat on her back again, closing her eyes to concentrate. She’d just be in and out, no problem. She focused, reaching out with her thoughts, feeling that familiar brush of time against her mind. Then, she let it take her.

…

First came a slight instance of cold, and then Max was greeted with the familiar floating feeling. When she opened her eyes, she was again greeted with a blanket of white. Then, the photos became clear in her field of vision.

“I think… Pixie and I went straight forward.” Max spoke to herself. “That’s easy enough.”

With hesitance, Max foraged ahead. There had to be a timeline out there where Max got rejected. She just had to find it. 

The first while of wandering, Max found only universes deeply similar to her own. Later on, she started to see a few inconsistencies. She couldn’t tell if these were the same as last time or not. But she’d find it eventually, she was sure.

She peered into a few timelines, but none of them seemed familiar. A universe where she ran into a stray cat and brought it home. A universe where she wasn’t friends with Lawrence because she went into the correct bathroom. Was she headed in the right direction? Last time she’d just gone straight. What the hell…?

Eventually, Max started to see things from That Week. Max walked past a picture of herself walking down Blackwell’s girls dorm hall, past Kate’s room. There was a shrine there. Max could easily guess what had happened in this timeline.

She saw herself snapping a photo of Victoria covered in paint instead of being nice to her. Then remaining hidden in the closet in Chloe’s room instead of intervening to help. Then she saw her parents declining her application for Blackwell.

What? Did I go too far?

Max turned around to go back. She must have passed it, there’s no way-

She caught a flash of color- rich blonde hair. Who did Max know with that color hair? She walked closer to the photograph, pure curiosity driving her forward. The girl’s back was to the viewer, long blonde hair streamed down her back and over a blue flannel. She was leaned in and her face was up against Chloe’s, her fingers threaded through her vibrant blue hair. Chloe was smiling into the embrace. Her stomach lurched. Weirdly, Max didn’t need to see her face to know that this was Rachel Amber. This was all that Max could not provide. Jesus.

The edges of the photo burned down to the center until the photograph was blank. A new image faded into view. Jefferson was in his classroom in a deeply compromising position with Rachel. Max almost looked away out of instinct and disgust, when she saw the door of the classroom open, David Madson standing there, catching them in the act.

Is it possible… is this a universe where Jefferson was caught before anything happened to her?

The image burnt out and was replaced by Joyce helping Chloe pack up her truck. Looks like she made it out of Arcadia after all. Then another image replaced it- Rachel Amber, alive and healthy, laying on a blanket towel on the beach in a sundress, posing. Someone photographing her. The beach was busy, it wasn’t an Arcadia Bay beach. She must’ve made it out too.

Or, they made it out together. Her mind helpfully supplied. If Rachel lived, why wouldn’t Chloe just ditch town with her? They’d planned to all along, hadn’t they? 

No. Even though you’d never met Rachel, you know she’d promised that to a lot of people. She’d never intended on leaving Arcadia with Chloe.

But maybe they’d done it anyway. In a world where Rachel hadn’t died, where did that leave Chloe? Did she escape to Santa Monica like she’d dreamed of? Were they together now? Were they happy?

Is she happier there than she is in our timeline?

Maybe knowing that for sure would quell her doubts and insecurities about what she’d overheard yesterday. Would Chloe really be better off with Rachel instead? Max saw that smile, the way she leaned forward to Rachel’s embrace. That was genuine happiness. That was something Max couldn’t do for her. Her kisses would be inexperienced and awkward. If this was what Chloe wanted…

> Turn back

> See more 

She leaned in closer, waiting for the image to burn to the next so she’d be able to see it. She wanted to see more, just to know for sure if this was the superior reality or not. If Chloe really did prefer Rachel in the romantic sense. But instead, she felt her stomach drop, like she was on a roller coaster at the big drop, or had a dream about falling. 

Then, she actually did fall.

…

The pressure in her head was so intense, Max couldn’t see anything for a few seconds. She heard a gasp and the clanking of silverware alongside the return of sensation to her body. Everything was warm.

When Max was able to see, she was looking down at someone. Max was sitting on top of a table somewhere on the sidewalk outside a restaurant with an umbrella over her head, her knees bent up and her foot in someone’s salad, her hands behind her, propping her up. People stared and murmured at her seemingly random appearance, but Max’s eyes stayed trained on the girl sitting on the chair at the table she was on, gaping up at her.

Rachel Amber.

Chapter Text

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PART II

STRINGS

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Chapter Text

Rachel Amber. Long golden hair tucked behind an ear with a feather blue earring, streaming down her back. Her shirt was cropped, short sleeved, tight, and seemingly purposefully ripped and worn down around the neckline. There was a blue flannel tied around her waist, over her high rise worn down jeans. 

Everything she wore was worn down or old, and yet, Max was able to tell it was all purposeful. Rachel looked well put together. She looked gorgeous. Gawking up at the girl who’d appeared from nowhere, sitting on her table with a shoe in her salad.

Max must look so out of place next to her. Not just because she’s displaced herself in time, but because of how she looked. Max’s shirt and pants were both new. They hung off her like a blanket- big and baggy. She didn’t fill her clothes quite right. 

Even with old material, Rachel looked put together. But Max? She’d been growing her bangs out. They’d just barely reached the length that they could be tucked behind her ears, and even so, they fell into her eyes with the slightest of movements. The rest of her hair had started to grow as well, as Max hadn’t put aside time to go to an actual barber and had only cut what had been bothering her, which meant she cut whatever bushed against her shoulders. So the back was longer than the front. She looked choppy. She looked messy.

Her clothes were all new, and she swam in them, like a child. Next to Rachel Amber, Max looked ridiculous.

And Rachel was still staring up at her. “What the literal-?!”

Max clapped a hand to her nose at the sharp pain that hit her head with a sudden and intense ferocity Max hadn’t even been expecting. It was so bad, her vision became blurry and she cried out in pain. Jesus fucking hell christ. It felt like someone had taken a sledge hammer to both of the temples on the sides of her head.

She tried to move, tried to stand up again, but she wasn’t sure how much she’d actually done- shifting her legs over the side of the table to try and stand. There was a high pitched noise in her ears, and a single sound cut through it all.

“Woah, holy shit- are you okay?” That must be Rachel’s voice. Max’s vision returned slowly and splintered. “Oh fuck, your nose!”

Max took her hand away from her nose, and was able to see the blood that had spilt there. Woozy, Max looked back up and was able to see Rachel again. “I’m sorry. My foot was in your salad.”

Looking very puzzled, Rachel smiled and shook her head. “Um, it’s… fine. It’s just… a salad…” she was standing up now, and moved to try and steady Max, a hand on her shoulder and the other supporting the hand on her nose. “Uh, do you need some napkins, or…?”

The physical touch may be what startled her so. “Uh, yeah. Probably.”

Max slid off the table, woozy to stand on her own, but still able to. Rachel offered her napkins a moment later, which she took gratefully. “Sorry, um, weird question, but… did you just appear out of thin air or am I going crazy?”

“Um… I’m…” Max stuttered to a response. Max had fucked up, that’s what she did. She’d gotten too close, and… and she’d fucked up. She’d fallen into this perfect timeline. She wasn’t supposed to be here. What were the repercussions of this? Would this have ripple effects? Would this cause another storm? 

Max should leave, as soon as possible to avoid the possible consequences. She tried to close her eyes, attempted to reach out- but the second she did, she felt like she’d gotten slapped. The blood dropped past the napkin and into her palm. 

“Jesus.” Rachel swore. “Here, uh, sit back down.”

“On the table?”

“I’ll pull up a chair,” Rachel offered. 

Max was dizzy enough to not think twice when Rachel ran off, grabbing another chair to drag over here. Max was able to sit down on her own, without prompting, and Rachel sat down on her own chair on the other side of the table.

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked. “Are you, like, dying or-?”

“No! No, I’m fine.” Max insisted. She grabbed more napkins from the center of the table, replacing the bundle of napkins against her nose with a new bundle. There was a lot of blood on there, and there wasn’t any sign of stopping. God, it was really making her dizzy. “Im sorry about your salad, I-“

“No! Really, it’s okay.” Rachel laughed nervously. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone appear out of thin air before.”

“Yeah, that’s um. Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Rachel laughed again. “Are you even allowed to tell me what’s going on here? I mean, weirdly cute stranger appears out of nowhere on my table and starts gushing blood from her nose- it raises some questions. Are you from another planet? Or the government?”

“Uh, neither?” Max adjusted her bundle of napkins to a dryer spot. “Where am I?”

“Oh, uh, this is Arcadia Bay, Oregon.” Rachel supplied. At her blank stare, she added; “America. The United States. Planet Earth-“

“I know where Oregon is.”

“Just checking.”

Max looked around her. She seemed to be in the outdoor seating in front of a small cafe on a busy street. Behind her, Max had a clear shot of the ocean. She squinted and leaned over the back of her chair, and was able to see the lighthouse in the distance. “My god. This is actually Arcadia Bay?” 

It made sense that the storm hadn’t blown through this reality, but still. She was back in Arcadia. Not a flattened town with a littered beach, actual Arcadia Bay. Exactly as she remembered it.

Rachel’s eyes widened. “This keeps getting weirder and weirder. Why do you even know what Arcadia Bay is? This is the sleepiest nowhere town I’ve ever lived in.” 

“I… used to live here.”

Rachel made a little “o” shape with her mouth, then nodded. “Alright, so, you’re not an alien.”

“No, not an alien.”

Her smile turned wicked and encouraging. She leaned in. “So what are you?”

It was pretty clear that Rachel wanted more of an answer than Max was sure she could provide. Would Rachel believe what Max told her? Should Max even try telling her? What would the repercussions be? Pixie told her that the universe didn’t like it when they jumped into a timeline that wasn’t theirs. Would interfering and telling Rachel about who she was and where she came from make it all worse? Would that be what broke time? Changing another reality? 

Did the universe also think that Rachel Amber and Max Caulfield interacting was a cosmic wrong? Seeing Rachel move and speak in a voice Max had never heard was bizarre. To Max, Rachel had never been more than a face on a missing poster and fifty bajillion wild stories. This was a real person. Timeline wise, Max should never be able to talk to or meet Rachel. Ever. How many universal laws was she breaking by talking to her?

“… Human.”

“Descriptive.” Rachel chirped. “Are you a street performer of some kind? Or are you a government sleeper agent? Blink twice if the FBI is watching us.”

“The-? No.” Max stuttered. “No, no FBI. And no government. I’m just me.”

“And who’s ‘me’?” Rachel’s eyes twinkled with wonder. She was just as nosey as Max was.

“Max.”

“Max.” Rachel repeated. “Sorry. It’s just that- this is the bizarre cherry on top of this crazy eventful week for me.” She chucked again, and Max was able to recognize that for what it was- a nervous tick. Which was fair, Max had just appeared from nowhere sporting a nosebleed and headphones around her neck. The other patrons around them had mostly disbanded or were whispering to themselves, staring at her two of them.

“Any other mysterious girls appearing in front of you?” Max asked, half joking.

“I think I could do with a few more mysterious women in my life.” Rachel reflected. “No, it’s just- I’m on spring break. You know, college. It lasts about two weeks, and I’ve got a few days left. My parents are out of town, so I’m just staying at their house, alone, in my hometown. All alone.” She sighed, resting her cheek on her hand. “The rest of my friends’ spring break doesn’t align with mine. They’re all already back to school, and I don’t have a car to go visit them.” She pouted, looking downcast at her salad, ruined.

Max repeated the answer in her head. “I think I could do with a few more mysterious women in my life.” Did that imply that she didn’t have any women in her life? Isn’t this a reality where she was with Chloe? “Are you single?”

Rachel lit up, her eyebrows shooting upward, and she leaned forward over the table, a devilish smile across her face. “Why? Did you teleport here just to ask?”

Max caught herself and reeled back. “No.” She hissed quickly, her face already flush. God dammit. “No. I was just under the impression that you had a girlfriend. Don’t you?”

Rachel looked actually a little disappointed, leaning back in her chair. “Nope. I’ve never actually dated dated a girl before at all. I mean, I’ve fooled around with a lot more people than I have actually dated them. I’m actually trying not to get involved with shit like that this semester. It’s been… mostly working. College is a fresh start, you know?”

Max nodded slowly. Rachel Amber had lived… and gotten out of Arcadia… but wasn’t with Chloe? “I do. I guess.”

“So… you’re a human girl who used to live in Arcadia Bay, who just appeared from nowhere to assault my salad, bleed through my napkins, and ask about my relationship status. And you’re not with the government.” Rachel cocked her head to the side, capturing Max’s gaze with her own- curious and mischievous. Max got the feeling she was enjoying turning this into a guessing game. “Allegedly.”

Max can feel the wad of napkins against her nose getting heavy and wet in her palm, so she grabbed the rest of the napkins on the table and switched them out, leaving the used and soaked wad on the table and covering her nose quickly with the new one. She was really dizzy, and the sharp pain in her head had yet to dull. “I have no idea what’ll happen if I tell you more.”

“What do you mean?”

“The universe doesn't like it when you mess with what it’s organized so neatly.” Max replied. “It tends to retaliate. Usually by doing something violent.”

Rachel recoiled once more. And again, that nervous laugh. 

“I mean, it’s probably fine.” Max amended. “I’m just… not from here. That’s all.”

“But… you just said that you’re from Arcadia Bay?”

“Not… not this Arcadia Bay.”

Max bit her lip, the anxiety of it all finally catching up to her. She was in another timeline. Talking to Rachel Amber, who should be dead. And the bleeding from her nose is far worse than it’s ever been and Max can’t use her powers to get back home yet for some unknown reason. Like that time with Kate on the roof, things seem to be tangled up in knots too tight for her to feel anything. She’ll need time for the time stream to calm down enough for Max to access it again. 

Fuuuuuck.

“I’m really really not supposed to be here.” Max squeaked. 

“So you’re from Arcadia Bay… but not this Arcadia Bay.” Rachel murmured, mostly to herself. “So… so you’re from another Arcadia Bay. Just like this one.” She looked up across the table. “Like from another world?”

“How the fuck did you guess that?” Max blurted out before she could stop herself. 

“Oh my god- are you?!” Rachel paled as she stared Max down from across the table.

“I’m- ah shit.” Max hissed. “Timeline, technically.”

“Oh my actual literal fucking god.” Rachel cursed, slapping a hand over her mouth. She stared directly at Max for a few beats saying nothing. 

Eventually, blood seeped past her chin again, and Max attempted to shift her napkins around to soak through a dry spot on it. Rachel stood up, abruptly. “You need more napkins.” She decided. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Um… black?”

Rachel blinked down at her. “Right. Of course you do. I’m going to get us some coffee. I’ll be right back with it and some more napkins. Stay. Here.” She said it like it was an order, a finger pointed at her at the end of each word like a physical emphasis. It wasn’t something Max felt at liberty to decline, so she didn’t. She nodded.

With that, Rachel turned around and went back inside the little cafe. Max was sure that if she stood up to follow her, she’d fall over. That’s just how dizzy she was. If this pain pounding in her head was anything to go off of, she’d surely taken her body with her when falling into this other reality. Meaning, to outsiders, she’d just magically vanished from the face of the earth back home. When Chloe came home, she wouldn’t be able to find Max anywhere. 

Max took a few shallow breaths to steady her nerves. She’d really fucked up this time. Would something terrible happen in this reality now that Max had entered it? She didn’t belong here, her mere existence may have serious ripple effects on Rachel. She may act differently than the universe wants her to now that she knows alternate timelines exist. 

How badly had she fucked up? Max can’t reach for this timeline’s time stream yet, but when she could, she’d assess the damage. If it was bad, Max would be able to feel things being loose or un-orderly or even tangled within the stream. She hoped she would be able to feel it soon, so she could go back to her own timeline. She didn’t want to ruin anything for Rachel.

Though- and she hated to admit it- what Rachel had revealed about her own life made Max curious. She wasn’t actually with Chloe. And apparently never had been. 

So what had happened in this reality? It really wasn’t any of Max’s business, but she felt obligated to poke around just a little for Chloe’s sake. When her best friend did talk about Rachel, she always had this deep regret of never asking enough questions. Rachel was still a mystery to her, in the end, and Chloe lamented how- even though it was too late- she wished she knew what she meant to her. Even if she wasn’t supposed to be here, Max hoped she could find that out for her. 

She shifted the wad of napkins around her nose again, some blood leaking into her palm. Jeez, she’s never had a nosebleed this bad before. It felt like the universe knew Max wasn’t supposed to be here, and was trying to push her back out. That wasn’t a great sign. Once this stopped and she could use her powers again, Max would try to assess the damage and make her way back home. And if she managed to get Rachel to talk about Chloe on the way, then that’s that.

As she thought it, Rachel exited the cafe once again, holding the promised napkin and two cups. She set the white foam one down in front of Max along with the napkins, and she caught sight of Rachel’s drink. It was in a tall, clear plastic cup. It looked like a gradient- pink to purple. It definitely wasn’t coffee. 

“Thanks.” Max said, grabbing more napkins and switching them out.

“Don’t mention it.” Rachel sat back down, taking a long sip of her drink through the plastic straw coming out the top. “So. I’ve decided you’re telling the truth. I’m a very good judge of character, but even I don’t think I’d believe it if you hadn’t literally appeared out of nowhere and started bleeding, but you did. So.”

Max merely nodded, lifting her coffee up to her lips, below the where she held the napkins to her nose, and tilted her head back to sip. Immediately, she tasted hot iron and gagged, setting her cup back on the table and leaning forward again.

“I knew it! No sane person could like black coffee.” Rachel exclaimed.

“Hrrm..” Max choked. “No, it’s not that.” She cleared her throat. “The blood started going down the back of my throat.”

Her nose scrunched. “Oh. Ew.” She shook her head, then took the plastic straw from her own cup and reached over the table to discard it in Max’s. Then she took off the plastic top of her own cup and took a long sip of it that way. “Anyway, why are you here? In this reality?”

“By accident.” Max decided this was a safe thing to tell Rachel, since she already knew as much as she did. “I’m… new at this.”

“New at traveling across realities. Cool.” Rachel said, almost to herself. “I’m guessing you need to get back?”

Max laughed in a way that felt nearly self-pitying. “Right on the money.”

“How do you do that?”

“Well, I need to wait for this to stop,” she gestured to her nose, “and then I’ll hop on out of here. Though… since I’m still new at this.. it requires a lot of concentration. I may need to go somewhere quieter.”

Rachel stood up again. “Alright, it’s settled.”

Max had to lean back in her chair to keep looking at her. “What’s settled?”

“You’ll come back to my parents house. By the time you’re ready to jump back to your original reality, we’ll be in peace and quiet since my parents aren’t home. Exactly what’s needed for total concentration.”

Nothing about what Max had said had deterred her. Rachel’s was dead set on this, a smile crooked on her face like she knew exactly what she was doing and had no qualms about housing a reality traveler. “Are you sure? You don’t even know me.”

“I know your name is Max.” Said Rachel. “Plus, I was literally just sitting here, thinking about how boring spring break has been and how I’ve barely had anyone to talk to the whole time. And then you show up.” Rachel shrugged. “Call it fate. Plus,” she veered her head to the side in order to look at Max out of the corner of her eye. “You know me, don’t you?”

Startled, Max raised her eyebrows. “How can you tell that?!”

“A lot of different ways. For someone with the miraculous ability to bend the laws of the universe, you’re not very hard to read.” She explained easily. “You’ve been eyeing me this whole time, like you can’t believe I’m actually here. It’s like when I would walk over to and talk with the lowerclassmen back in high school. They’d oggle me the whole time like they couldn’t believe Rachel Amber was gracing them with her presence.” She laughed, but there was less mirth to it. “Do you know me where you come from? Is there another Rachel Amber in your world?”

“There… is.” Max replied hesitantly. “But we’ve never met, no.”

Rachel frowned, a pout, like she’s not used to her intuition being wrong. And honestly, her intuition was pretty close given the complicated circumstance, so maybe it’s justified. 

Max got out of her chair slowly, her head still pounding. “Where to?”

Rachel’s smile returned. Her pointed hazel eyes were alluring. Max could see how anyone would be swept away by her beautiful enigma and lose themselves to her mystery. Within minutes, Max can understand why Chloe would disregard everyone else when she’d once had someone like Rachel. Max really can’t be offended to come second to her when Max herself was absolutely willing to follow her to her house within mere moments of meeting her. 

“Follow me,” she instructed, veering around the table and out onto the street. “We’re walking back.”

…

Rachel confirmed Chloe’s attribute of “angel” several times over the walk to her house, saving Max from tripping over her own feet or bumping into pedestrians. She’d become very dizzy, and walking didn’t mix well with that. 

Rachel talked about a great number of things- her friends Paul and Callie from college in Santa Monica, that one boy she had a hookup with- one single hookup- and just wouldn’t leave her alone, the classes she’s taking next semester, on and on and on. Max didn’t have much to contribute. She didn’t know what was safe to say, and even aside from that she wasn’t much of a conversationalist anyway. (Rachel never mentioned Chloe. Not once). Rachel’s life seemed so glamorous and ideal, adding Max’s life to it would seem out of place.

Speaking of- Max noticed more than a few people watching her and Rachel walk by. She must look ridiculous next to her, what with her stumbling and bloody nose and all. Max had never felt more self conscious than she did standing next to her. And maybe that wasn’t fair to Rachel, but it was all too easy for her squishy insecure brain to compare the two of them when they were standing right next to each other like this.

Another reason Max wasn’t really talking was because of how odd it was to hear Rachel talking. Max had never heard her voice before, and had only seen her moving once or twice in one video or another when Chloe was feeling nostalgic and wanted to show her things. She couldn’t stop ogling her. 

Max was used to the idea that she’d never see Rachel alive. Doing so now… it just felt weird. It felt unnatural to see Rachel moving and talking about all the things she had going on in her life. Her life seemed so full. Everything she said rung bittersweet in Max’s ears.

As they swung around the block where there were less stores and more housing, Max removed the napkins from her nose and realized the bleeding had stopped.

“Thank god,” Rachel had commented. “Have you ever had a nosebleed that bad before?”

“No. I haven’t.”

“And I hope you don’t ever again.” She lamented. “That was scary, I almost thought you were going to bleed out.”

Max’s head starts to straighten out too as they walk in the street- the sidewalk stopping randomly as they do in suburbia. Although Arcadia Bay is usually pretty walkable. Rachel glanced up at the streetlights like they’re stars, and she stopped in front of a brick house that looks new, with a neatly trimmed lawn and the lights off inside. Wowser. Even her house is nicer than mine.

“Home shit home.” Rachel greeted, walking up to the front door.

Max followed closely behind, entering after her. She was hit with the smell of vanilla- so much so she suspected that there was a scented candle somewhere in the house. The interior looked homey, Max could see all the way to the dining area from where she stood in the doorway. The walls were beige, the floors were brown, it looked like any other normal suburban home. You’d have to wonder how it must’ve changed after she died. How her parents must’ve taken down all the trophies on the shelves down the hall, or stared at one of those four chairs at the dining room table, never getting to know why it was empty. 

“Don’t just stand there and stare, let’s head upstairs.” Rachel nodded her head to the staircase on their right. “You can figure out how to shift realities in my room.”

Maybe Max should be less inclined to just follow Rachel around, but she didn’t bother to argue, trailing up the steep staircase after her. Rachel’s room door was decorated with star stickers, and Rachel threw the door open and walked in like she owned the place, which she did.

Her walls were purple with lighter stripes, vertical, covered in posters and framed pictures. She saw advertisements for broadway productions and a star shaped ring light. Her room was bright and made Max feel dreamy. Colorful sweaters and scarves hung on a coatrack in the corner, and her computer was open on her desk. The desk I sent was white- and so was the cabinet, and the drawers, and the bookshelf embedded in the wall. 

This room was so lively, like Rachel herself. Seems odd trying to imagine no one loving here, watching the items in the shelves collect dust. 

Rachel discarded her drink cup on a pink trash can, and Max dropped her bloodied tissues beside them. Her own coffee wasn’t finished yet, and Max wasn’t in a hurry to empty it either. As she raised the draw her her lips and let the heat of it down her throat, she saw a corkboard on one of her walls, covered completely with photos and small scraps of paper. Driven by her curiosity, Max walked closer as Rachel situated her bedsheets.

There was photos of a younger Rachel, many of her in hiking gear with a man she could guess to be her father. There’s some of her more recent, high school years. She catches familiar faces in them. Victoria’s in one, surprisingly. They’re at a party, probably run by the Vortex, and Victoria’s smiling.