A/N: Uhhhhhhh, yeah. This is happening. I am here with a slow burn, my first attempt to try to make a story go beyond 20-something chapters. I have something for Chloe and Rachel, but I love Marshfield.
Enjoy.

"Maybe you should, I don't know, fucking stop."

That was the first thing Chloe said to me this morning. I was welcomed by her annoyed face as I focused on her. I inspected where I even was and I was surrounded by coffee cups, paper assignments, and way too many polaroid films. I had no clue how or when I fell asleep, but judging her by face, it probably wasn't a pretty sight.

"You look like shit," she patted my back, "worse than usual."

"Gee, thanks."

I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake myself up again, to the point that I started to see colors and trip out a little. From what I could tell from my desk, I was working on assignments for classes and passed out in the middle of it. My desk described how I felt on the inside pretty; It was a fucking mess.

Thanks to Chloe getting a job at Starbucks, I was able to get all the drinks I wanted and drown myself in it. I thought about how I might have a problem with it, then I would ignore it as I asked for another one.

"Max-tress, how in the fuck are you stressing out this much?"

I wish I knew. It was only my third quarter and I felt like I was hit by three semi-trucks simultaneously while I was on fire. The three trucks represented my assignments and the fire represented my ongoing pile of debt. I was lying to myself; I had the unhealthy habit of waiting a day before class to do my work.

"By the way, it's seven-fifty." Chloe said lastly.

I shot up from my seat, "What?! I'm going to be late! Why couldn't you tell me earlier?!"

"You looked cute while you were asleep, didn't want wake you up."

I groaned and gave her a weak punch on the shoulder. I grabbed my bag and headed to the front door, not even caring about how I was still wearing white pajama pants and my college's sweatshirt in springtime weather.

Chloe was in her uniform of all-black and a green apron, twirling her keys on her finger with a sly smirk on her lips, swaggering over.

"Damn, four weeks left and you looked like you hit rock bottom ten times. That has to be a new record."

"At least I accomplished something this quarter."

"That's hella sad, Max."

Yup, that was me. Max Caulfield, Academy of Art student, photography major, design minor, and on my seventh week of my third quarter. And she was Chloe Price, childhood friend, asshole, all-around punk who knew how to make a mean expresso. We both moved together to San Francisco, not only to start a new chapter in our lives, but to get the fuck out of Arcadia Bay. It wasn't a bad place, per say, but there wasn't much over there.

Luckily for us, her work was five minutes away from my school and I could just walk in like most students. On the downside, our apartment was thirty minutes away.

The most of our drive was me with my arms folded, looking out the window, and being slightly mad. I wasn't that mad because it didn't matter to be late anymore, but it was more her not waking me up. Now, I had to walk into class in my pajamas and whatever excuse I had to offer.

"You still shouldn't be stressed out. You only have two classes."

"I'm doing fine, Chloe." I replied. In that moment, my mind flooded with all the reasons why I was not fine.

However, this class I could not miss. It was Design Fundamentals to finally start my minor. It had been full for the other two quarters and I could not repeat it, or any classes for that matter.

We arrived to my school. To make this worse, my school was a large gray building in a busy city area. It was always filled with cars, moving or parked, right next to the slowest stoplights I've ever seen. It was a five-story and, even worse, it was at the very top. I hopped out of Chloe's car, not wasting any more time.

"Have fun in your nerd class." Chloe said with a smirk.

"Have fun dealing with customers." I retorted. She lost the smirk after that.

At least the elevator was available. I was overheating in my clothes, even when I pushed my sleeves up. I've been in more embarrassing scenarios—most of them for being very nosy—though I would prefer to not remember them. When the elevator dinged and the doors slid to the sides, what I saw was the hall of doom. The path moved in a square, classes on both sides, and on the other side of the building was the other elevator. One of the reasons I hated being late was the feeling that overcame me when I had to walk in. It made my heart pound, my chest hurt, hands incredibly shaky, and vision blurry.

Dum-dum-dum-dum… It was beating every second. Maybe I shouldn't go in. I don't want to be stared at. My thoughts were scrambled. I should give up completely. I could turn around. I still have time.

My room was 910 at the end of the hall. I had this thought numerous times, but before I let myself succumb to them, I grabbed my ID and put it against the scanner to open the door. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't let myself believe those thoughts. My hand was shaky as I grabbed the handle and went in, greeted by the whole class looking right at me and my professor stopped talking mid-lecture.

"Morning, Miss Caulfield, do you have an excuse?"

They asked that whenever any student was late. I felt myself lock up and letting my heartbeat take over. I took a few steady deep breaths, "Overslept."

They looked me up and down and said, "I believe it. Take a seat."

My entire body relaxed. As they went back to lecture, I went to my seat in the back of the room, covered by the other three rows in front of me. Thank dog my usual seat was still available.

The class was fun, but what made everything more nerve-wracking in this room was a girl sitting at the front of the room. When I came to class early, she was always there, alone, and drawing in a sketchbook. I have only ever seen her in this class. I made eye contact with her on the first day and she smiled at me, and since then I couldn't bring myself to speak to her. I couldn't fathom how pretty she was and I was hooked instantly. From where I sat, I could see the back of her. She was recognizable due to her blonde hair and it was always in a bun.

I kept my cool and just told myself every single class that I was going to talk to her eventually. Maybe I'll even have another class with her. Then again, what are the chances I will? She could have a different major.

Class was always just two-hour lecture and two-hour work. I fall asleep depending on how much rest I got the other night, but this day, sadly, I was awake for all of it. Two hours of working on doodles instead of working on the real assignment was something I loved to do. At the end of class, I got everything ready to go and left along with everyone else. Except for the girl, she was always the last one.

I walked out and took the elevator down to the first floor. I went to the library, the largest room in the whole building, so I could pass some time. Chloe got sick of me walking in two minutes after class and told me to "go read or some shit."

The library was very open and had lots circular tables that could fit up to six people. There were also rectangular tables for classes that may have to do lecture there. Next to the tables were the rows upon rows of bookshelves of any topics and subjects known to man. The left wall was also lined with more bookshelves. I always went to the row with all the books about how animation movies are made aka, the closest row to the door.

As I walked up and down the aisle, I heard the entrance open and close. I didn't think much of it until I looked over and saw it was the girl. She just so happened to sit at a table that looked right into the aisle I was in. I grabbed a random book, The History of Wall-E, and opened it to a random page. I held the book close to my face, but I peeked over it and looked over at her from time-to-time.

It was an opportunity. I could just go talk to her! I wasn't ready to try. My heart was ready to explode. I've peeked over five times already.

Maybe one more time wouldn't hurt. I was slower this time and looked over. It took a whole five seconds to notice that she was looking back at me.

Shit! I shoved the book closer to my face to hide my shame. Was she smiling at me?! Why did I do this?!

Out of pure panic, I left the book on the shelf and rushed out of there.

I hyperventilated as soon as the library door closed. I hurriedly left the building went down a couple blocks to the Starbucks Chloe worked in. I tried to walk in as normal looking as I could, but Chloe, being a cashier, saw right through it.

"What the fuck did you do, run?" She raised her eyebrow. I couldn't tell her the truth, so I said yes.

"Damn," she sounded shocked, "You're lucky I'm going on break on. I'll take you home."

I sighed in relief.

Our drives were always filled with music. We always spoke to each other over loud rock; it was always something about what happened while she was at work. This time, it was about one old woman who got mad about her drink taking forever. Chloe told me she held her tongue this time today and wanted me to be proud of her.

"I am proud of you, okay? I have been since you got a job." I rested my elbow on the console.

"I need money for a truck. I hate these kinds of cars," Chloe huffed, "If I have this car by next year, I am going to lose my shit."

I didn't mind the old Honda. It didn't have a shine, instead, it was still the gray matte finish, with a bunch of dents and scratches. I didn't hate it, but Chloe loved the feel of a truck. She said it made her feel powerful.

We arrived to our apartment. To be honest, our apartment wasn't that bad. It was on a narrow and steep street, but it was in a relatively nice area with plenty of nice little shops and neighbors around us. It was hard to miss it when the building was tall, blue, and was the only thing with gate around it. Thanks to Chloe's family and my own, they gave us enough to pay rent for two years.

"Hey, Chloe, when you're done with work, can I talk to you about something?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "Now get out of my car."

I listened to her and got out, heading in quickly. I got into the elevator and hit number five. I couldn't stop thinking about her. She was actually smiling at me. She must have found me acting like that cute, but I was dying on the inside. Chloe was going to laugh at me for acting like this. She always talked about how gay I was and this just enforced it.

As I got out of the elevator, my phone vibrated. I thought it was Chloe again, but it was a text from an unknown number. It was full of "miss you" and all that junk. It just might be my ex-boyfriend or ex-friend, so I just erased it.

Apartment 180 was our home sweet home. On the inside, our walls were covered in posters and different drawings I've done and many different bands Chloe enjoyed, a tattered couch and a small TV in the living room, a nearly empty kitchen, a small bathroom we had to share, and one room we both slept in. The both of us had slept on the couch at one point or another.

I threw my bag onto the couch and I went into the bedroom. I jumped into bed, hearing the springs under me. I placed my earphones in and, for hours, I stayed on my phone. I never have any memory of what I do on there or what songs I end up listening to. For the rest of my time, I stayed lying on my back and scrolling through the apps I had.

"Max and Ruby!" I heard, along with two pans clanging together. My eyes shot open, my body shook, and I was really disoriented. I must have dozed off. I sat up and my phone lands on my lap and my hair felt out of place.

"You're awake." It was Chloe. She dropped the pots on the floor, crashing against the wooden floorboards. She was still in her green apron from work.

Everything was so blurry; I had to blink many times before I said anything back to her.

"Welcome back," I greeted her, "How was work?"

"Same shit," she shrugged her shoulders, "You fell asleep with your phone on your forehead."

"Oh, thanks." I took my earphones out.

"So, you wanted to talk?" She brought it up again.

"R-right," I gulped dryly, "I did ask that, didn't I?"

"Don't back out on me now, Max."

"I'm not!" I stood up and left into the living room. The TV was on, playing the food channel. I really wanted to back out; it wasn't that important.

I continued with a sigh, "You're going to laugh at me."

"Maybe me a year ago would," Chloe firmly grabbed my arms, "but you can trust me now. I told you everything."

"You really didn't have to tell me every single time you rubbed one out to your favorite characters."

"I told you because we're best friends! You can tell me anything, but I won't force you."

"Okay," I cleared my throat, "I need help talking to someone."

"What's so funny about that?"

"Well, it's a girl in my class today. She sits in the front and I haven't been able to go up and talk to her. She makes me all... mixed up. I was out of breath earlier because I saw her in the library and she saw me back and she smiled-"

"Whoa, slow down, Max Factor," Chloe raised her hands up, "I get it."

I wiped my forehead of sweat.

"This girl makes you gayer. That's how I felt with Rachel, you know?" She brushed her fingers through her hair.

The question should be, "who didn't know she was gay for her?" I've known Rachel for two years and she has known her since they were sixteen. She was completely head over heels for her; they were in love with each other. It didn't take long for them to become a thing and they were still a thing today. Rachel was, however, travelling around the world being the model she wanted to be. She called Chloe around this time, actually.

She plopped herself onto the couch. I followed. In the background, I could hear Guy Fieri's voice talking about what I think was called poke.

"I mean, bisexual, but more for women," she corrected her words, "All I can say to you is to just talk to her. I know you're super shy and anxious, but I know you can do it! You can go up to her and be like, "I'm gay for you.'"

"I can't do that, Chloe."

"You know what I mean. I'm encouraging you to start getting out of your comfort zone. I want you to be happy and not living off of coffee!"

"… Did you bring some?"

Chloe let out a defeated sigh, "Yeah, I bought two. They're in the kitchen."

I didn't have class tomorrow; I spent my time watching TV and chugging down the two cups she brought. I enjoyed it more when it more cream and sugar than the actual coffee.

Chloe was right. I needed to start being more direct and out there. As I put my hair up in a small ponytail, I watched her go into the bathroom and take a box for a hair clipper out from under the sink.

"What are you doing?" I asked her. Now that I notice, her hair was growing out and her strawberry blonde roots were showing.

"Fuck it, I'm bored," she opened the box, dumping everything onto the sink counter, "I'm shaving half my head."

She had made some big changes when we moved. First was making her hair a brighter blue and even threw in some purple close to the roots. Next, in less than a year, her right arm was a complete covered in a whole sleeve. It was a mix of flowers, skulls, and notable ones like a ship wheel on her elbow and an anchor on the back of her hand.

I couldn't help but stare sometimes.

"Do you need help?" I stood at the door.

"No, I'm good," Chloe put her beanie down and started parting her hair, "Would you like one?"

I thought about it. It wouldn't hurt.

"I could get an undercut. If I don't like it, I can hide it under my hair, right?"

"That's the fucking spirit, Max!" She moved most of her hair to the right side.

I watched as she starts the clipper and shave off her blue hair, fearlessly and happily.

"Would Rachel like this?" I leaned against the door frame.

"Why wouldn't she like it?"

I suddenly heard her phone ring; her phone was usually on vibrate. It was a loud Firewalk song; I think Chloe told me it was the same one that was playing when they first met.

"Speak of the devil," I grabbed her phone from the bed and answered it, "Hey Rachel."

"Oh, Max! Hey, what's up?" She replied. She was always so energetic; it was contagious. There was something about her voice that made you feel good.

"I'm doing fine. Chloe is shaving a part of her head right now." I leaned on the door frame again.

"Oh nice! Will you send me a picture later?"

"Of course! How was your day?"

"It was good. I'm really tired right now, but modelling never sleeps or waits for anything."

"Where are you right now? Are you still on the other side of the world?"

"I'm actually in New York! I'm only three hours ahead. I'm getting ready to go out again." She laughed after the last sentence.

"Chloe is almost done." I looked at her, who was still fixing it and seeing if any part of her now-shaven side is uneven. It was hella awesome, like Chloe and Rachel would say.

"Are you going to do it too?"

"Yeah, I might as well. She did tell me to get out of my shell."

"I agree! You have to get yourself out there."

"Max is gay for someone!" Chloe hollered over the clipper's buzzing.

"You're what for someone?" Rachel repeated. I started to panic; I couldn't say anything else.

"GAY!"

"Oh, I see, so you're getting yourself out there, because there's a girl you like?"

I cursed under my breath, but I responded, "That's pretty much it."

Rachel was squealing in excitement, "That's so exciting! Holy shit, I want to help! Who is she?"

Or, I could just hang up on her.

"I spoke to Chloe about it today. I need some time, Rachel. I wouldn't want to scare her away."

"Just tell me everything that happens, okay? I'll help you as much as I can."

"I will. Thanks so much."

"No problem. Tell Chloe to call me back later."

"Sure do, enjoy your nap."

When I put Chloe's phone down, it was my turn. I stood in the bathroom, trusting her with the clipper against my head. She ended up going up too high and it ended right above my ears. I couldn't stop feeling the nape of my neck. It was weird to have the neckline of my hair just gone now.

"That looks hella tight, dude," Chloe complimented, "You should totally try that top knot shit."

I watched her as she took a selfie in the mirror for Rachel.

"Maybe when my bangs grow out," I nodded, "I'm not ready for that kind of change just yet."

"I look fucking good," she flaunted, "And you should feel that way, too!"

"I do feel a little confident."

"Good! When you go talk to her, use that and just be yourself," she reiterated, "but, push yourself a little bit to talk to her. The rest will be history, bitch!"

As vulgar as she was, she was completely right. If I was really sure, I had to try. If I don't, I may regret it.

A/N: Review and shit!