No Turning Back: A Life Is Strange Story chapter 1, a life is strange fanfic

notes: Hello! Anna and Sarah here. This is a joint account shared by two sisters who love to come up with stories inspired by Life Is Strange. This story takes place in an alternate universe where max is an ordinary girl without her rewind powers. We definitely don't want to spoil anything, but there are probably a few things you need to know before reading!

1. This story contains spoilers... in a weird sense. Basically, there are parallels in the AU that resemble major plot points in the actual game. If you're the type who doesn't mind spoilers, or you've played through/watched the whole game, on a Let's Play, go on ahead!

2. We have actually written a good bit of No Turning Back in advance; however, we are going to space out our updates, if only to stay ahead of ourselves. What we don't want is our readers waiting on the next chapter when said chapter is not finished yet, so we're going to try and eliminate 99% of the ways that could happen. Also, since this is a continuing story, updates will be posted relatively often.

3. While this story does take place in Arcadia Bay, with all of the characters starting out at their respected ages in the canon (Max is eighteen years old, Chloe is nineteen years old, so on and so forth), it starts in October 2015 versus October 2013. This is only to fit in more modern references and themes into the story! We want to portray Max and Chloe as close to present-day as possible. We have planned for this to equate to an approximate one year difference (Example: If a chapter is posted on October 31, 2016, the date in the story itself will hopefully be October 31, 2015).

4. In originating the concept for No Turning Back, you can thank Sarah for the main plot. She was the one who wanted to write a Max without powers AU in the first place, and she crafted several of the sketches for the pivotal scenes throughout the tale. Anna is the editor; writing is her passion. She is the one with her fingers clacking away at the keys, bringing the story to fruition. while some of the ideas for this story can certainly be accredited to Anna and some of the dialogue can certainly be accredited to Sarah, nothing gets jotted down without approval from both parties. This really is a joint effort, and we hope with all our hearts that you enjoy it.

p.s.: This may be an AU, but be prepared for noted references to the canon and an indeterminable amount of in-game quotes, renovated to fit our narrative. Don't say we didn't hella warn you.

October 4

Max Caulfield

The rising sun peeks lazily over the horizon of Arcadia Bay on a slightly chilly Sunday morning. Some people despise waking up early to go to work. I would hardly know, considering today marks my first day of work at a real job in my life. And yet, despite the resounding yawns and sleepy eyes of passersby, I quickly discover that I am taken with the sky above me as it dawns.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm strange. Maybe it's my passion. As an aspiring photographer, I tend to take opportunities as they are given to me, soaking in the early rays of light instead of complaining, breathing in the breeze.

After all, I can't turn back time. Nobody can. All I can do is close my eyes for a moment and try my best to capture the present.

I push open the door to the Two Whales Diner and am immediately immersed in a pleasant wave of nostalgia. Wowzer... I float through the memories, imagining my thirteen-year old self racing towards the jukebox to ensure the speakers played my favorite song. With a soft sigh, I drift behind the counter.

"Your apron is in the back closet, honey. You know where." Joyce Price gives me a kind, knowing wink before heading over towards the coffee makers and starting the first brew. I nod and make my way to the back room, my mind racing.

If I could have the choice to pick any other adult in the world to shadow during my first day at my first job, I wouldn't change a thing. Joyce made my return to Arcadia Bay after five years feel a lot less foreign the moment she offered me a position here.

Admittedly, I had asked for one. After my ventures last month at Blackwell Academy (Yes, I attend Blackwell Academy. I can't really wrap my mind around it either), September ended with the tragic death of my beloved vintage camera. Only four weeks or so into my return from Seattle, and here I am, left with no means with which to take any photos outside of class besides my phone.

And so I had requested to work here. Joyce had graciously agreed, promising me that with enough money, a new camera could be all mine soon. The story of how it ended up shattered is a different one entirely, one I decide not to ruminate on.

Hours pass as the work day begins, and I am astounded by how fast they fly. The breakfast shift is a rush, customers blustering in like a whirlwind. Luckily Joyce guides me through it all, patiently teaching me how to keep track of the tables I wait on. She also shows me how to operate the waffle makers, the coffee pots, the deep fryers, and more. At precisely 9:42, I serve a hungry truck driver the first meal I have successfully mustered up on my own. The hash browns are burnt on the edges and the yolk from an egg over easy is running into a stack of pancakes, but I still feel proud when he gives me a gruff thumbs up before digging in.

During all of it I catch myself dreaming of how great it would be to take a picture of these first few moments in a new world. Of course, Arcadia Bay is no new world to me, but it sure feels like it now that I'm working here. I guess you don't know what you have until it's gone.

I had no idea how strongly I had missed Arcadia Bay. I had no idea how surreal it would feel to hear Joyce's voice again and smell her famous pancakes until I had been away from it all for five years. Now, everything is in vibrant color. Flashes of sensory overload dance across my line of vision over and over with no pause in sight.

Well, eyes, it's up to you. Only you have the power to capture these moments.

But nothing compares to the moment that the clock is about to strike noon. That's when an image presents itself to me so picture perfect, so stunning, I almost curse out loud in front of everyone gathered here for lunch.

Thank God Joyce is on break. That way, she might not see me like this. I hold my breath as through the door walks maybe the hottest girl I've ever seen.

She sure does know how to make an entrance. That's one thing for certain. Or perhaps I'm just imagining she does, considering my brain is hopelessly stuck in slow motion. Her feet pound across the floor, the soles of her worn out sneakers slapping against the tiles. Her ripped skinny jeans display an especially sweet sneak peek of her amazing legs. Her body is lanky and athletic, but I make no attempt to skim over the notable curve of her chest and hips.

And her hair. Don't even get me started on her hair.

She flips it back in a shock of electric blue, the choppy strands falling no further down than the base of her chin. Her wild eyes match her short hair effortlessly, like she's not even trying to look cool.

Maybe she isn't. Maybe girls like her are just born cool.

Alright, Max. Don't be a dork. I grab the notepad with one hand and tuck my hair behind my ear nervously with the other, a little less than ready to approach the girl as I stumble over to take her order. Once I arrive at her booth, I try for a dazzling grin, but all I seem to manage is a small, shy smile.

"What can I get for you, Miss Blue?"

Chloe Price

"What can I get for you, Miss Blue?"

I don't know, Max. How about a clue?

A month. One fucking month. Thirty days, and this is the first time Max Caulfield has even bothered to make contact with me. I think she's trying to flirt with me, but her stupid little rhyme comes out all wrong as she fumbles with her overly sized apron. Here she is, working at the Two Whales with my mom, who just so casually happened to mention that she offered Max a job here last night. I bet Joyce didn't even know she was back until she needed something. I think bitterly, preparing myself for the worst.

And then the worst happens when I meet her eyes. Here we have a girl who stood by my side as my best friend throughout my entire childhood, and I'm almost positive she doesn't even recognize me.

Fantastic. Fucking fantastic.

"Coffee," I answer sharply. "Make it black." I don't feel any remorse; she's probably already served ruder customers today. I'm no big deal, apparently.

I keep my eyes on her, surveying her as she stutters. "Uh-okay...I'm on it." My gaze follows her for a bit, right up until she's over at the counter. Unbelievable. Only when Max turns away do I let my face fall, looking down and tracing the tabletop with a chipped fingernail, trying not to bathe in my own disappointment.

Of course. This is just my dumb luck.

Am I being too harsh? I have to ask myself this as the memories ricochet around my head like carnival swings. This isn't just any kid. This is Max. This is five years ago, thirteen years old, on the precipice of discovery, making shitty jokes about cute guys in boy bands, trying to smoke each other at video games after midnight, tasting adventure for the first time. This is not just another person on my list of cookie-cutter Arcadia Bay bums to avoid and/or cuss out.

Max probably has a bright future, really. But something deep inside is stinging with pain at the mere thought of that future not involving me.

She comes back to the table with my coffee and I realize I haven't even glanced at my menu. It's a good thing I basically live here—that is if I'm not sleeping, smoking, or sliding under the scrutinizing radar of my step-ass, David.

"Here you go." Max awkwardly hands me my coffee, and I think I'm lucky she doesn't accidentally spill the scalding liquid all over my tank top. Okay, so maybe I've changed since we were younger. Maybe I'm throwing her off. Sure, these days I would rather smoke cigarettes than smoke her at video games. Sure, these days I don't give a damn about boy bands anymore, or most boys in general... Regardless, I'm still me. And not so long ago, Max knew me. She knew me like the back of my hand.

Just like Rachel did. But that didn't stop her from leaving.

I don't know whether or not to be annoyed or curious when Max doesn't leave. It's a refreshing change. She's supposed to ask me what I want to order, but she's easily frozen. I almost wave my hand in front of her, if only so she'll move.

"You're staring," I bite, relentless and unable to help myself.

"I-I'm so sorry." I have to kind of admire her silent spunk, because no matter how much she probably wants to scurry off, she roots herself steady. "It's just..." She lingers, searching for the right words before trusting herself to speak again. "I haven't seen you around Blackwell, but you...you look strangely familiar..."

Strangely familiar?! My mind cries out. "No shit, Max," I snap, leaning back in my seat and pulling my knees up to my chest inside the booth. Lord knows she's probably still got her eyes on my boobs.

"How did you...how do you know my name?" Max blinks those baby blue eyes, completely oblivious of something so blatant that I have to refrain from laughing my ass off. Reaching one arm out, I poke her name tag, complete with the word Max printed in big letters, right on the front.

"Eh, lucky guess." My voice is dripping with sarcasm. "Now, I bet you can't guess what I want for breakfast," I challenge, still feeling dauntless.

"Breakfast?" Max asks, incredulous. "It's almost noon."

"Your point?" I shrug, finally allowing a minuscule smirk to creep onto my lips. Stay strong, Chloe. It doesn't matter how cute she is. She's Max. She's flirting with you and she doesn't even know your name. You may even be imagining her flirting with you. You're in a small town. In the middle of nowhere. In a place like Arcadia Bay, girls don't just randomly flirt with other girls everyday. I shove the rapid stream of thoughts aside when my stomach growls in protest. "I'm starving and you're a waitress. Now, go on. Bring me food."

My smirk only encourages her, and I wonder if she's testing me. No, this isn't happening. Max Caulfield is not testing me. Not while I'm already testing her.

"Alright," she mumbles, rolling her eyes and tucking her still blank notepad in her apron pocket as she steps back towards the counter. "I guess you'll just have to be surprised when I come back."

Oh, Max. Confident and cold as I seem on the outside, there's no doubt that my entire world is reeling. Again. You have no idea.

Max Caulfield

11:59. The mystery girl is waiting for her mystery breakfast.

The music overhead is slow and bluesy, the singer strolling his way easily through the lyrics without a care in the world, taking his sweet time. Meanwhile, I know I'm about to be flooded with customers...customers I'm in no physical condition to handle currently.

The lunch rush is starting, Joyce is on her break, and I'm hitting a wall with... My swirling thoughts are still predominantly on her as I almost crash into the wall for real.

With...who?

She's unbearably moody and mindlessly careless, not to mention cryptic as hell. Every word that she spoke when I tried striking up conversation was plain and simple, and yet there were definitely hidden undertones. I'm probably no better than she is, digging my way deeper into something that might not even be about me. And yet, I'm too nosy to stop.

Why is she such a puzzle? What am I doing wrong?

Flustered and confused, I rummage through fridge after fridge for supplies. Come on, Joyce. Where did you put the eggs this time? I'm about to fall over and give up when I locate them at last, concealed in the back. Once I've got all of my ingredients, I start on the food I've chosen to make for her.

Max Caulfield, you're officially hopeless. Endearing, but hopeless. Just because her hair is blue doesn't mean she's a lesbian. You're stretching a bit far.

Acknowledging I'm into girls is still new territory. Ultimately, the realization solidified right before I stepped back onto Oregon soil. No, I'm not going to broadcast it. Yes, it still felt like a new start when I took my seat on the first day of classes at Blackwell and noticed possible candidates for a relationship.

So many students, and yet I've found no one at school. So I have to try another method, even if it means daring to try winning over the mystery girl. After all, there's something sexy about a badass who plays hard to get. Right?

"Today's your lucky day." I'm at her table again a few minutes later, setting down the steaming hot plate. She's tapping her foot impatiently.

"I don't think lucky is the best word. You must be joking or something." She's vicious at first, but then she smells the food. I manage to get her to glance up at me and her eyes slowly soften, sharp blue melting into a much less intimidating crystal color, like a calming sea.

"Two eggs, two pieces of toast, and two pieces of bacon. And..." I hurry back over to the counter, realizing I forgot the most important part. "Maple syrup."

"How sweet," Mystery Girl says, but her tone is relatively peaceful. "Thanks."

"Well, it's my specialty, after all." I go for a playful smirk, but I know I'm shooting high, and of course I miss the mark.

"Your specialty? Dude, I'm pretty much here every day, and I haven't seen you here once." There it is again...that secret pinch of spice and bitterness. I feel like someone just dared me to shove a spoonful of pepper in my mouth. "Or, wait. Maybe I have seen you around, Max...you sure do look familiar. Do you go to Blackwell?"

The heat of her mocking me finally makes me want to throw in the towel for good. What's the point, anyway, if all she's going to do is chuck my own stupid pickup lines back in my face?

I'm about to speak up for myself when Joyce returns from her break. I let out a breath of relief as she makes her way over towards the table. She regards me for a moment, but she's more focused on my customer. The expression Joyce wears when looking at her is...different.

What's going on?

"Look at who finally managed to wake up this morning," she teases, gently shoving the girl's shoulder a bit. "Glad you're talking to Max again."

Wait a minute...

When Joyce turns back towards me, it's finally clear as day. Suddenly, I know what's happened here. It's all coming together, why this girl is driving me crazy, why she looks familiar, even in her new clothes, sporting her new attitude...

"Chloe." I speak the name of my childhood best friend, easily caught in the most embarrassing moment of my life.

"Took you long enough." Her voice is all of a sudden a lot more vulnerable. Joyce has cut the little game she's been playing with me short... Or has she? Was Chloe ever planning to tell me I had actually known her for years? She wouldn't keep that from me forever...not Chloe...

"I...I, um..." I make the dumbest excuse on earth next, if I haven't already been dumb enough. "I have to...take that guy's order over there." And then I'm gone, my cheeks burning, my resolve broken.

What do I do?

The question haunts me while I serve the others, handing out sandwiches and fries and drinks like I'm not a walking disaster.

And then, in a beat of tranquility at around 12:30, I remember. I remember what I had been planning to do before I knew who I'd been conversing with. I pull the receipt for Chloe's meal off of the machine and grab a pen, exhaling shakily and hoping I can somehow redeem myself.

"Er, here's your receipt." I walk over to her one more time, picking up her plate and giving her the slip of paper, my nerves still on fire.

She examines the receipt, and thankfully, she's smiling. She's smiling smugly, of course, but at least it's a start. Then she stands up, wandering over closer to me, almost like we're in a dream. If this is a dream, it's easily the weirdest dream ever.

"Only a complete dork like you would put her phone number on a receipt," Chloe remarks, and I hear her voice waver, just slightly. "Okay, so maybe you're not the only one to have done that." I'm not sure what she's talking about, but I guess I'll have to figure it out.

I guess I'll have to rediscover Chloe Price. I hope she'll let me.

Then she gives me a once-over, the first long look since we were kids. "Still the same total nerd." She ruffles my hair and I nearly step back in shock. I wasn't prepared for her to forgive me so soon, after I'd practically abandoned her. But maybe something—something bigger than me—has other ideas for us.

Maybe this is only the beginning.

As Chloe heads towards the door to the diner to leave, her eyes flicker over mine. All I'll be able to do after this is hope this is not our only meeting. All I can do after this is wait. Maybe opportunity will be on my side.

"Max Caulfield," I hear her echo. "See you around."