A/N: This is my second LiS story, and I personally think it'll be better than "Always". Understand that because this story takes place during a time in which Max would be grieving, her character and actions will be somewhat different than presented in the video game. Grief changes how people view and see the world, and Max has plenty of reasons to why she would blame herself for Chloe's death. With that being said, I have taken some liberties and have possibly exaggerated in this story. Please approach this story with an open mind. If you go in expecting the story to be 100% cannon, you will be disappointed.
Disclaimer 1: This story is only rated M for colorful language. Chloe, I'm looking at you.
Disclaimer 2: I do not own any characters or associated properties of Life is Strange. All characters and properties belong to DONTNOD and SquareEnix Entertainment.
Thank you,
Holywoodunderfed
It's been 2 months since Chloe died. Two months since the fateful day she was shot and bled out on the cold tile of the girl's bathroom in Blackwell Academy. Two months since Max was forced to listen to her friend breathe her last breath.
And since then? Everything seems bleak. At least in Max's eyes. She didn't enjoy what she used to love anymore. She didn't enjoy the leaves changing color in the autumn weather. She didn't enjoy Halloween; the thick aura of death surrounding her. The thought of skeletons made Max think of Chloe's corpse, rotting away 8 feet below. The thought of zombies kept Max awake, whether from terrifying nightmares or of dizzying daydreams.
Max quickly lost her interest in photography. After all, how could she take pictures of a world so thoughtlessly cruel, that would destroy an entire town, everyone she had come to know and appreciate, to kill her best friend. Someone, who Max ordinarily would rather die for.
And that was another thing to think about. Max certainly wasn't suicidal, but she felt as if she didn't deserve to live. The only thing her time ability gave her was the ability to manipulate lives. She tore the lives of everyone she knew, whether she loved them, or hated them, she unfairly and cruelly twisted their lives, their personalities, and their souls apart. And she hated herself for it. She vowed she would not use her power. Even if she still had it.
They say that the 5 Steps of Grief are Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. Max felt as if she felt all of them at once. After all, how do you grieve in a step by step process, when you let your friend die?
Sometimes, Max has visions. She knows they are not real. Although to her, they are as real as they can get. See, they are not just visions, they are memories. Memories that will and only belong to her.
Sometimes the visions would be simple. Max and Chloe are sitting at the picnic table, the day of the snow. She finds herself trying to memorize every single detail of her face. It frustrates her each and every night.
Because the more time goes on, the more she forgets. She forgets the exact shade of Chloe's eyes. She forgets just exactly how her voice sounded. She forgets how Chloe moves her hands when she makes a point. She wants to remember all of these little insignificant details and more. She wants to bottle every tiny, good memory she has with Chloe. It doesn't matter if they're 13 years old playing pirates or 18 years old shooting guns at bottles, she wants to drink all these memories whenever the sadness takes over. When the numbness takes over.
That's the best way to describe it, she guesses. Numbness. Other than class, she doesn't like to leave her dorm room. She prefers to stay numb. Outside, everything reminds her of Chloe. The pool reminds her of her last swim. Every truck reminds her of Chloe's, (that Joyce gave her, "she would've wanted you to have it.").
Max has started to wear some of Chloe's clothes under usual grey jacket. Some have noticed, but most choose not to say anything. She has started to wear Chloe's bullet necklace and finds herself unconsciously rubbing the bullets with her hands. She can't help but wish that she knew a way she could have saved her.
She hasn't totally isolated herself however. She still has tea with Kate. She doesn't say much, but Kate is kind enough to understand and feed her talk about anything. Even though Max isn't overly religious, (make that not at all), she finds herself praying with Kate sometimes. It seems she wants to do anything she can. Kate has practically been a saint, patience wise. She could not be more thankful, but it is exhausting to be pretending that she is getting better. Max isn't even sure if "getting better" will ever truly happen. After 60 or so days, it still hasn't.
She has spoken to Dana as well. Even one crazy night tried marijuana with her. She choked and gagged on the pipe she was given, and even high she couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't belong here. And what here meant, she'll never know. It just didn't feel right at all. Especially when she knew Chloe loved nothing more than to light up.
Admittedly, no one helped like Warren. She learned quickly that each of her closest Blackwell friends had separate ways of trying to help her cope. Kate was patient. Max felt, however, that she was too patient. Dana's was distraction. Most of the time, Max was grateful for this, but, deep down, she wanted to not be sad anymore, and she knew distraction wasn't going to help in the long run.
Warren was different though. Warren was patient but not too patient. He pushed, but he didn't push too hard. He distracted but not too much. While Kate wants to wait for Max to be ready, Warren lets Max share tiny details, a little bit at a time. There's been times, especially recently, when she would go over and they would watch a movie. She would drown herself into the movie or Netflix series, not talking or thinking much. Occasionally, Warren would get her talking and when they do, they talk for a long time. Not always about Chloe either. They would talk about philosophy, new movies, the latest music, anything but. She really enjoyed these. It wasn't just about forgetting, it was about feeling normal, and around Warren, she felt normal again. If only briefly.
Very few times, Warren could talk to her and convince her to open up about Chloe. She couldn't force herself to talk about her timeline mis-adventures. That was too hard. But she would talk about the good things. She would talk about how Chloe would bring out a new side in her. She would say how funny Chloe was. She told him stories of how they spilled the wine on the floor, about the times she would eat at the Two Whales with William, Joyce and Chloe.
Every time, she would cry. He would pull her close and hold her head in his chest. She would sob for minutes, even hours. He never seemed to be upset by this, even if he did joke about her ruining his shirts. Even if she did feel a little guilty about this, she is eternally grateful for him being an escape, even if she knew he would like nothing more than take her to a drive-in.
Which makes her even guiltier.
It was the day of finals, and Max's parents have been texting her for a while. In fact, they have been texting her for an entire week. See, after the funeral, her parents had been worried about her. They had told her that if she thought about going back to Seattle and escaping from Blackwell for a while.
And now, she was really thinking about it. She was presented a choice. She could stay for Winter Break in her dorm. Kate would be gone, and so would Dana. As would nearly every other girl except for Stella. One pro for her, would that she wouldn't have to deal with any drama or bullshit. But on another note, she would be alone. More so than she had been the last three months.
Warren was also going home, but he lived in Arcadia Bay, about 10 minutes away from the school. The only problem was, she didn't want to drive Chloe's truck. It still smelled like her. It still had her old cigarettes in the ash tray. The last time she was in there, she stole the last of Chloe's packs and hid it in her room. She won't ever smoke it, but sometimes when she smells the nicotine and the tobacco, she is transported back to her room.
She imagines her dancing on her bed, trying to convince Max to break it down. She misses this moment the most. Before David came in, when Max was just a normal girl reuniting with her best friend after 5 years. She wasn't in a state of confusion, (well, at least not too much), she was just an 18 year old girl with a brand new power, sharing a loud moment with her sister.
And then, Seattle. She would get away from everything. She wouldn't have to see the lighthouse. She wouldn't have to sit in her dorm and stare at the ceiling. She wouldn't have to listen to the silence that filled Blackwell's halls during winter break. In Seattle, she would be in a familiar setting, with parents she loved very much. They may be a little protective, but right now, she wants to be taken care of. She's tired of being alone. Warren, Kate and Dana have tried their best, and sometimes, especially with Warren, she didn't feel the overbearing loneliness. But it wasn't enough.
Maybe Seattle would help her heal. Maybe she just needed distance. Time for herself. Away from homework and busywork photography. Maybe the Seattle landscape and wildlife could encourage her to produce more art.
Maybe.
Right now, though, she needed to do something. She had played guitar an hour or so before, but she had been staring at the ceiling all that time later. She was stiff, too much so.
She managed to roll out of her bed and she fell to the floor, letting a curse silently escape her lips. She got up gingerly and made her way to the closet. It had recently snowed, (it was the 19th of December, so it's reasonable this time), so she put on one of Chloe's few long sleeve shirts, (one with a Jimmy Eat World design) and put her grey jacket over it. She wore the longest jeans she could, and on impulse put on one of Chloe's beanies.
The only problem is, she didn't know where to go. Her last final had taken place hours ago. In fact, she felt pretty sure most of her roommates had already had theirs. She might as well take a walk around campus. The cold will make her feel, at least until she goes numb, on the outside this time.
She puts on some black shoes, and she slowly steps out of her door. The hallway is dark, and for the first time since she woke up this morning; she wonders what time it is. She glances at her phone. Other than the 31% battery, it says that time is about 8:15. Her dorm is the farthest in the hallway, and as she walks slowly through the hall, she finds herself nosily checking each dorm. Each dorm is empty, even Stella's. Max sighs. She doesn't even have the energy to snoop around.
She had already done so in the alternate timeline, even if it was 2 months later, what was the point? She already knew about Dana's miscarriage. Victoria, despite having a new teacher to fill in after Mark Jefferson's arrest, had still won the Everyday Heroes contest. There wasn't anything else to learn.
At least Kate hadn't attempted suicide since Nathan had been arrested and confessed. Other than Nathan and Mr. Jefferson's arrest, this was the only other bright spot.
Her feelings on Nathan were mixed. On one hand, she hated him for killing Rachel and driving Kate to suicide in the other timeline. On the other hand, she knew he was sick, and appreciated that he tried to warn her before his death. It didn't change her perspective, but at least she could forgive him for what he did.
She started walking through what seemed like the endless cavern of silence that perpetuated the hallway. She was lost in her own mind and didn't notice herself walking down the steps and out into the cold night air. It was colder than it had been for the last week, and made Max shiver. Though she liked it. She liked feeling the cold, and deep down, she felt she deserved it.
She didn't know how long she walked. After what she guessed was an hour or so, she decided she had had enough of the cold. Her hands were going numb, and her nose was red. She stopped and checked her surroundings. It wasn't easy to see with the wind swirling the snow around her face, but she could make out a sign that read that she was near the boys dorm.
"Warren..." she whispered to herself. She remembered he said he was going to go home. Perhaps he hadn't left yet. She felt lonely and miserable again. Although she felt tired of feeling like she was using people, she couldn't help but want to see Warren's smiling face.
She walked up to his dorm, and read his slate. It was a stick figure drawing of a person falling off a cliff after another figure pushed him off. Its caption read, "It's over Anakin. I have the high ground." She let herself chuckle at that.
She remembered when she had taken his marker and drew something for him. She smiled at the memory when she wrote CopperTellurium=CuTe. She smiled when she also remembered his warm reception to her drawing. It had made warmth grow in her belly and spread throughout her chest. To this day, it still released happy thoughts in her head.
She thought about possibly putting it again, but figured it was ridiculous considering the circumstances of her visit. In fact, she couldn't remember a time between them when she even thought about his attraction to her, or her possible attraction to him since the bathroom incident. She frowned a little thinking about that. However, she decided to put that out of her mind and knocked on his door.
The door slowly opened by itself. While she was lost in thought, she failed to notice the door was already ajar. Inside, she found that the room was practically empty. Sure, there was posters that had usually adorned the walls. But the bed was freshly made, something she knew hadn't been done in weeks. The floor was vacuumed and the table where his laptop usually sat was vacant. His Playstation and XBox were nowhere to be seen.
She felt a crushing sadness then and dragged herself to his bed. She sat, staring at the pillow that normally would rest his head. Even from the short distance she was from his pillow, she could smell him. She had grown accustomed to that smell. It was a smell of boyishness and comfort. A smell that succeeded in making her heart settle yet expand at the same time.
Now, all it did was give her the urge to cry. She knew now what she was going to do. She was going to Seattle. But she couldn't help herself.
She crawled backwards and placed her back against the wall. She curled in a fetal position and squeezed her eyes shut against her knees.
And then she wept.
