peccavi (n) - a confession of guilt or sin
Faint moonlight accentuating the emptiness of cheekbones underneath a starless city sky and you see the pained regret tainting her frail profile. She sits with her knees pulled close to her chest, her heartbeat, and cradling your father's worn-out camera against her heart.
"Max."
She glances up at you, blue doe-eyed gaze meeting yours in an almost listless manner; you see it again, the anguish twisting her expression and tears that threatening to spill down her cheeks as she smiles at you.
Sometimes when she looks at you, you clearly see the internal anguish she struggles with. It's been several months since you and her have left Arcadia Bay; you have seen the reports, witnessed the disaster firsthand, and it comes back at once when her blue eyes meet yours. Even though Max Caufield has always had the purest intentions (and maybe that is what plagues her now), you know a part of her hates you and wonders if she did the right thing: saving you in face of the disaster that followed in your wake. You know it plainly in the slight crinkle of her dark brow and private confessions of guilts conveyed by the shaking of her small body as she cries.
It's easy to forget that when she leans closer to you, shallowly breathing in your scent / she describes it as the fragrance of vanilla and the musk of cigarette smoke / and runs a hand through your choppy blue locks. "Chloe." You press a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth; she softly sighs. "I love you."
A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, "Me too. Come on, let's go to sleep."
She blinks at you, but acquiesces with a slight nod; in the end, she is a bit too exhausted to stand up by herself and she has one arm wrapped around your shoulder as you help her down from the rooftop back to the dingy, little apartment you share a story down. Max nods off as soon as you lay her down on the mattress and you can't help a fond smile as you lay down besides her.
As you try to fall asleep, you count the pale freckles that are scattered across her cheeks instead of the stars since in L.A. / another one of those cities that is always awake / there aren't any to dream on. Except, you have Max so you count the freckles that dash her complexion that make you remember Arcadia Bay and clear skies scattered with an infinite number of stars until unconsciousness overtakes you.
You lightly tighten your fingers around hers, your fingers interlaced as you fall asleep. Sometimes, you think you hate yourself too.
[Author's Note]
I don't even ship PriceField, Chloe Price (best friend of Max she might have been) didn't really appeal to me until later in the game, but even then she never really won me over. It can't be helped that she acts a lot like this one girl I never get along with. For me, I felt like "Life is Strange" was a good game and the ending where you choose Arcadia Bay is the better ending. I advise if you need closure for the game you should watch GeekRemix's video "Max's Powers Explained"; Mari really puts it in a way that I feel makes sense.