Disclaimer: Life Is Strange or any of its characters do not belong to me, got it memorized? If I did all the couples would be optional ;) Basically a dating sim LOL
Pairings: Caulscott (c'mon ladies u know me), mentions of Pricefield
Warnings: Angst, swearing, implied rape, implied self harm, implied abuse, suicidal thoughts, depression.
A/N: I TRIED SO HARD AND GOT SO FAR BUT IN THE END IT DOESN'T REALLY MATTER- Ok, no. Ignore me please. What I was trying to say was that WOW I had a massive writer's block and couldn't finish this earlier but here it is! Hope you enjoy it and please don't forget to leave a review ;) Reviews are love
The Cracks in Your Foundation
You blink one, two, three times, asking whatever entity is out there whether you truly deserve this kind of punishment and hoping (not really) that this is just a figment of your way too wild imagination.
You do it again.
Yet there she is.
Max Caulfield, she's sitting right in front of you as if nothing's wrong and this is a normal occurrence. As if she does this every day. Innocent blue eyes staring right into yours, head cradled on the back of her hand.
And to make things worse, she's dressed like Rachel Amber, like Rachel Fucking Amber and you so not want to go down that road. You tear you eyes away and do what comes best to you.
"What the fuck do you want now?"
You've been trying so hard for her to back the fuck off and even so she's still here. Then again, it shouldn't surprise you. When have things ever gone the way you want them too?
You should have been used to failure by now.
"I just wanted to talk" she says in that sweet tone of hers that makes your throat dry.
That makes you act more of an asshole than usual.
"I don't think so, Max. Question time is over. Leave me the fuck alone"
You would have loved to say something different, something like 'ok, let's talk' or 'alright, go ahead', except that you can't. Not really. You and Max are not friends. You're not even acquaintances and taking in account recent events it seems the universe is hell bent on the two of you being enemies. You're hell bent on being rude and mean and giving every villain in cartoons a run for their money when it comes to her. Or other people that are not Victoria if you're being honest.
Life is not fair.
She bites her lip and you do NOT follow the movement. Absolutely not.
"I know that" the hipster girl nods "I was just thinking… maybe we could make a truce? At least while we're in the diner"
You're one hundred percent sure you're giving her a look, one of those are-you-fucking-retarded looks because you remember-how could you not?-, you remember that faithful night two days ago where, for some unknown reasons, you and the girl came to a sort of agreement, and you remember perfectly well how that went to hell in less than one hour.
Thinking back, you can't really blame her for being suspicious of you.
Flashes in your mind: screaming, hands grabbing thin wrists, wide fearful eyes, losing control, more screaming and tears.
Reminiscing those moments, you're not afraid to tell her "Are you out of your mind?!" your tone goes up a few octaves "I told you already, whatever happened then, it doesn't change anything"
You lift your eyes back to find her scowling "And I told you already, I know, Nathan. I just…" determination is laced in her voice "I really don't know what I'm doing, to be honest. Don't get the wrong idea, though, I dislike the idea of being near you just as much as the next person"
Ouch.
She certainly wasn't playing around.
"But," she continues "I'm curious, okay? That's the only explanation I've got. So humor me a little"
Hunching over yourself, her words echo in your head. You think she must be fucking insane. Out of her goddamn mind.
Probably you are too, because just like that crazy ass day you're accepting to talk to her. To the girl you're not supposed to talk to, the one you should be avoiding. Stuck in a trance, you agree.
A small voice whispers to you that it's mostly due to the fact that you're oh so in love with this weird chick and despite knowing you shouldn't, it doesn't mean that you don't want to.
You ignore it.
Fucking voices.
The corners of Max's lips tremble slightly but before anything she'd regret later can happen, she manages not to smile. A hand plays with the cuff of her long sleeve and the action brings forth to your attention the clothes she's wearing again.
Those are not her clothes.
Those are Rachel's.
There's an ache in your chest and you don't understand why.
"Where did you get that?" the question is out of your mouth faster than a heartbeat.
Max blinks, startled by your sudden outburst "What?" she follows your lost gaze "Oh, this outfit? Chloe lent it to me, since, you know…"
You snap out of the trance you were in, forgetting for the moment about the missing girl at the mention of her name. Of. Fucking. Course. Tuning out Max's ramble, irritation comes back to you in full force.
You don't get to be bitter.
The thing is you are kinda bitter.
You should have expected it, engaging in conversations with a certain selfie obsessed girl would ultimately lead to talk about that fucking bitch one way or another. It makes you feel even bitterer.
Unconsciously, your hands have curled into fists.
Jaw clenched, you take a second, just a single second to examine her.
Now she's fully smiling-looking every bit of radiant and pure she is-, a healthy blush decorating her freckled cheeks, blue doe like eyes lost in the retelling of a story about the other girl and the worst thing is, Max probably hasn't noticed she even started. The worst thing is she must have forgotten about your presence or whom she's talking to, otherwise you're sure she wouldn't be telling you any of this useless shit.
Not that you wanted to know anyway. It's not like whatever stuff she's saying will benefit you, quite the contrary actually.
She looks so happy.
You snort, making Max come back to her senses. She blushes some more realizing what she has done. Good, you think.
Jealousy was not a word you would have applied to yourself. Until you met her that is.
Of. Fucking. Course.
"I should've guessed"
"What are you talking about?"
"You and that punk ass whore" you're literally growling by the end of that sentence.
Max freezes in her seat, mouth hanging open.
"What?"
It doesn't stop you from saying next "Do I have to spell it out for you? It's so painfully obvious; you'd have to be blind in both eyes not to see it"
"I have no idea of what you're saying" she denies, lips pursed, fingers tapping nervously on the table.
"Don't play dumb with me"
"You're ridiculous"
"Hey, you were the one who wanted to talk. Well, here it is, you got your talk"
If looks could kill you would be dead right now.
Then again, so would she.
"Admit it"
"Admit what, Nathan?"
You hate how her lips give a new shape to your mundane name.
You're surprised when you finally muster enough courage to say what you have known all along "You're in love with her" you swallow nothing, sounding too soft yet fierce. "With that blue haired witch"
The admission burns coming out of your mouth, it feels wrong.
It's the truth.
Her whole demeanor changes in a moment, her gaze so intense, clawing its way to your soul. You're not able to look at her anymore, afraid of her seeing things she should never find out.
After a few awkward minutes, she shrugs, still tense "I'm not" there's no conviction in her voice.
"Cut the bullshit, Caulfield. You're all over her just like Graham is all over you"
It hurts, saying out loud all the things you've kept hidden inside and it shouldn't in view of the fact that even if she was not into Chloe, even then, what would guarantee her being interested in you?
Nothing at all.
You're just not meant to happen.
Not in this universe.
"I mean, poor bastard. The guy hasn't even noticed you can't be less interested in the D, y' know?"
Bitterness and jealousy, what a great combination.
Max is slightly frowning but she doesn't look uncomfortable any longer "Ok, I do. So what? What's all the fuss about, Prescott? Getting your panties in a twist?" she leans forward "And it's not like that, you ignorant jerk"
The insult scalds you, makes you want to retaliate in really violent ways and this is why you can't have nice things. You're practically socially inept, unable to chat with someone without behaving like a gigantic ass or hurting others in the process.
And you hate that. Hate it so much it disgusts you. How your self defense mechanism kicks up at the slightest threat every single time.
You understand it though.
Why you do it.
So no one gets too close.
So you won't get hurt ever again.
It doesn't mean its right.
It's who you've become.
Gritting your teeth, you choke on the venom threatening to spill any moment. "Ignorant how, virgin girl?"
She looks at you condescendingly and you just know she's holding the urge to insult you back "For starters," she begins "if you weren't such an assuming bas…guy, you would know there's this term you apparently haven't heard of known as bisexual? Does it ring a bell, virgin boy?"
Now that. That throws you off your game so fast, your mind starts reeling. For a moment your mask cracks, showing genuine surprise and holy shit, she was right, you had just assumed since Max hadn't shown any apparent attraction towards anyone on campus until Chloe showed up.
I'm so fucked.
Your heart is beating so fast right now you're afraid it might fly out of your chest straight onto the oblivious palms of the girl and wow, wouldn't that be ironic as fuck?
Hands off the table; you set them on your knees, examining distractedly the moon shaped marks on the palms.
You bite your tongue and say nothing.
Max sighs loudly, you can feel her piercing gaze on you "About the Warren deal… Jeez, I… I'm just not interested" she seems at a loss for words "Don't get me wrong, Warren's a nice guy and he's sweet but… I don't see him that way. He's not my type"
"What's your type then? Punk, blue haired girls?" you ask sharply, still looking down.
You don't need to look at her to know she's drilling holes into you "Why am I even-"she trails off before finishing the thought. There's a pause. "I guess I like the unexpected, spontaneous thing, you know? I don't know how to explain it in any other way. People who seem tough but have a secret side to them, like hidden depths-"And suddenly she shuts her mouth, out of nowhere, as if she had realized something.
Whatever it is, it's enough to make you focus on her again, different shades of blue colliding. Your heart is in your throat. The expression on her face tells you what made her shut up. She's said too much. Pink, tempting lips are shaped like an "o", red tinting her skin, expanding across her neck and for some reason; you start to feel flustered too.
You don't understand what happened. What is currently happening. You just are extremely confused; the only certain thing, the only real thing, the only thing you know is that you're unbearably smitten with Max Caulfield.
It's like she's seeing you for the first time and it scares you, what she could see, the possibilities frighten you and you're paralyzed in your seat.
You would give anything to stay in this moment forever, no matter how weird this is, to be able to stare in her eyes, with her staring right back for the rest of eternity.
It bothers you, how corny your thoughts have turned.
But good things don't last long, you know from experience and it's so unfair when she starts blinking slowly, trying to regain her senses. Disappointment rests in your gut as Max tears her eyes away, leaning back in her seat and you notice how close you were before.
She looks around the diner nervously, you have a couple of ideas why but it's useless anyway, everybody else is minding their own business.
She swallows, uncomfortable, fidgeting. As it should be.
Without having a clue on what to do, you reach for your camera and twist it around mindlessly. Sometimes it feels like someone is messing with your life for the sake of fucking you up more than what you already are, lately though you are the one going out of your own way only to make things harder for yourself than what they have to be.
For example, this whole situation could have been avoided if you just had made it impossible for her to talk to you. As it should be.
Or maybe the meds are at fault. Who the fuck knows? Everything related to you is messed up.
Everything is a mess.
Because of that, you're totally caught off guard when Max starts up conversation abruptly.
"Nice camera you've got there" kind eyes pointedly settle on it, longing.
"Thanks" you reply offhandedly, shrugging. To you her behavior is more interesting than your stupid camera.
Besides, it's not a pleasant thought.
Cameras, you mean.
Head tilted to the side, all previous discomfort gone, she asks "Why aren't you in Mr. Jefferson's class?"
And just like that all composure you could have had flew straight out the window. Stupid teenage moony shit included.
"What I'm trying to say is, you take legit photos, Nathan. I've seen your work and it's quite… unique-"
She's talking. She's still fucking talking and you're shaking, you're trembling. The whole world is fucking trembling and it takes everything in you not to show it, not to show you're insides are being torn apart with everything she says. How you want to keel over the side of the table and throw up all over the floor. You feel sick, dirty and you have the need to stay away from Max.
The words are blurring, soon you can't make out anything of what she's babbling about, and it's pure gibberish entering your ears. Guilt, remorse, hatred, rage. Those are the emotions clouding your mind and fighting for dominance and you just don't know how to handle it.
Rachel.
What the fuck happened to Rachel?!
Kate..
You want to make me proud, don't you?
The bite marks on your thighs burn. The old scars on your wrists burn. Your whole body burns.
You reckon feeling like this before. Yesterday, in the principal's office, with Max and that motherfucker in the same room. You remember wanting to die and lying through your teeth when asked about Kate. You remember seeing everything in black and white.
You remember the finger shaped bruises on your hips when you looked in the mirror this morning. Recent, foreboding.
You snap.
"What's it to you?" you snarl, red filling every inch of your vision "Just because I have talent doesn't mean I'll become one of his mindless groupies. What's wrong with you all? You and Victoria, both so fucking blind when that guy is involved. It makes me ill."
All rational thoughts are gone and what's left is the angry, lonely teen that drives everyone away.
Max cowers a little at the outburst but you're too far gone in your own self hatred and shame to notice.
"You really don't like Mr. Jefferson" she states carefully, knowing she's threading on thin ice.
You scoff, desiring you could explain to her the depths of your hatred and at the same time knowing well you can't. So you settle for the next best thing, fueled with anger "You said something just now" you completely ignore her claim "About my photos. That they're 'unique'." A derisive laugh escapes you "Bullshit. What do you really think about them? Be honest"
Max is anxiously drumming her fingers again, appearing insecure and a little bit scared. Where has her confidence gone too? Where is that nosy attitude that always gets her in trouble? You have no problem voicing those same thoughts out loud, prompting her to react.
She delivers "Alright. I'll be blunt" she eyes you warily, now fingers clawing at her cuffs, never to back down from a direct challenge "They're creepy and disturbing"
"You think there's something wrong with me, don't you" you counter, watching as she bites her lip again and that fucking ticks you off.
"You're right" you agree, nodding, insides twisting. It barely registers the fact that you can't remember the last time you had a decent meal "The pictures I take? That's how I see it. The world. In black and white. So different from your dumb selfies"
Now it's Max's turn to be quiet.
"Death animals, tombs, that's pretty sick, am I right?" you smile but you know it's not real, it's ugly and tainted "Hell, it's fucking twisted and it's gotten worse. So much worse"
Max keeps on being silent and you can't look at her. You can't.
"You know, when I was a kid I used to wander off by myself in the woods. At first, I did because I liked it, after a few years though it became my only escape…" you decide not to elaborate on that "Anyway, one of those days I was walking around when I found it. A dead bird. It was laying on the ground, surrounded in blood, looking incredibly peaceful. I was scared but mesmerized at the same time. I had never seen something so tragically disturbing and… before I even knew what I was doing, I lied down on the ground. I didn't give a fuck about the dirt or whatever. Facing the bird, just staring, simply staring, was the first time I actually thought about it. Death. How final it is. Once you're dead nothing else matters, not a fucking thing. No one will be able to control you. No one will be able to hurt you ever again…"
By the time you finish speaking; Max looks a little green and one step away from getting out of her seat. You stop smiling, lips pulling downwards. "I hate it" you confess "I hate how I'm limited by this-No, that's wrong. I hate that I can only take photos of things at their worse, never at their best. I hate how I can't seem to do anything else. I hate that I can't stop. I hate looking all the time through distorted lenses"
You chuckle and it sounds broken, shattered. You hate your vulnerability too. "And you know what I hate the most?" you say to the window to your right, avoiding the conflicted gaze of the girl "What I hate the most is that it's too late. It's too goddamned late for me."
Your entire bones ache, your heart aches, your brain throbs and you're just so tired. So tired of trying, of fighting. You want it all to end. Soon. But this? All this? It needs to stop. Things can't go on like this forever.
Your stomach rumbles in the awkward silence left by your speech. You ignore it, knowing the moment you get to the dorm you'll pop some diet pills and be over with it. The smell of the fried food it's becoming irritating, and you're mentally and physically drained.
You shouldn't have let this happen.
"Nathan…" Max whispers and there's no way that's sadness in her tone. No way. She laughs a little with no emotion whatsoever "I don't understand" she says and you knew it. You're really not expecting her to get it. Except that you do. "But I want to. I want to understand." You shake your head, throat too dry to talk "I know that I can't, Nathan. You won't let me and I just… can't but even so I want to. I do"
You raise your eyes at that and when you do, well, you wish you hadn't.
Max looks as broken as you feel, just as torn apart and confused and lost. And her eyes. They scream at you 'I WISH THAT I COULD HATE YOU' and you wish for that too. Wish you could hate her in return.
If you had the power to change anything right this moment, you'd erase this conversation entirely. To spare you both the pain and struggle.
The most beautiful girl you've ever seen brushes a lock of hair out of her face, gives a pitiful excuse for a chuckle. She speaks "You and I, we-"
"No" you interrupt her, foreseeing what she was going to say. You interrupt her so you can't hear it out in the open. You interrupt her because you know it will be more painful, it will destroy your resolution "No, we can't"
"I imagined you would say that" the smile she gives you makes you want to claw at your eyes; she should never have to smile in that way. The same way you smile.
"So this is it" Max says and it sounds like goodbye "This was our talk"
You shrug.
You're in pain.
Now more than ever you wish you could turn back time.
As you're thinking that, blue doe like eyes fill up with tears, one drop sliding down her cheek and then-
Then she does something really weird.
She raises up her right hand.
"I'm gonna smile like nothing's wrong, pretend like everything's alright, act like its all perfect, even though inside it really hurts…"
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