A/N: Hello! BHBrowne, here, with my first Life is Strange story. Bit nerve-wracking, I'll be honest, writing for a new fandom. But this is a project I've been working on for a little while, and I'm both nervous and excited to share it with everyone.
A huge thank you to DeviantArtist 'TheSnoozeMoose' for letting me use their fantastic piece as a cover art for this work.
Also, another equally large thank you to Fanfiction writer 'ForeseeObstacles' for being a great beta reader and some awesome company. Thank you, both of you.
And, finally, thanks to you. The reader.
If you enjoyed, let me know. I genuinely hope, from the bottom of my heart, you all enjoy my project as much as I enjoyed writing it. Until I see you all again, byeeeeee.
American Girls
I
"I'm here. I love you. I don't care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you."
Elizabeth Gilbert
"Max… I'll always be with you."
"Forever…"
Chloe looks out the window, watching rain crash against the truck she's driving. When she was little, she loved the feel of a car in the rain. The rumble of the engine, the crackling of the crashing downpour against the windscreen, the bubbling excitement in her stomach of going somewhere, whether on the way to Max's house, or to get some fries and a huge burger from the fast food restaurant with her dad - her actual dad, not…
And then later, with R - Rachel, that same bubbling excitement. Whether it was to some party Rachel somehow knew about, or to a movie, or to take in some hella awesome sight, just listening to the truck in the rain as her friend gave directions, words unsaid begging to be made vocal, but being buried from some fear of rejection, or some bullshit. An electric feeling of excitement coursing through her body, revealing itself in her wriggling and bouncing slightly in her seat.
Now, though? With what happened yesterday?
She fucking hates the rain.
Gritting her teeth, Chloe shakes her head, her knuckles whitening around the steering wheel of the pickup. The windscreen wipers screech desperately, swiping at the downpour that clouds the window. But not that which brims beneath her eyelids, just itching to be released. It's only been, what, a day or so, but the events of the bay are still crystal clear. The words she'd muttered furiously to Max, when they'd first gone to the lighthouse together, just like when they were kids, come back to her. The desire to wipe the shithole away.
Be careful what you wish for.
Out the corner of her eyes, she sees Max wriggling in her seat, glancing down at her phone. Chloe takes a half glance at her own, resting next to a precariously balanced bottle of Coca Cola and a barely touched bag of salt and vinegar chips. Nothing. Her eyes slip shut for a moment, thinking. All the stuff she should've said. She can't remember the last time she said she loved Joyce. Or even … the last nice thing she said to her. Not that either of them had been nice to each other since … dad. Another thing that's fucking fu -
There's a loud cheep. Max's phone. Her heart flutters.
For what feels like the millionth time since leaving the bay, Chloe clears her throat, taking her eyes off the road to look at the brunette sat next to her. Max seems to share in her fleeting excitement, tapping in a passcode with rapid taps from her thumbs, her eyes wide. She knows, and hopefully Max does too, that there's just no way. Doesn't stop the question coming from her lips, however.
"Anyone from - ?"
A swift shake of her head. Chloe grits her teeth, and nods once. Not surprising, but still … bullshit.
"My mom… again, I mean. Wowser, sixteen missed calls..." she laughs awkwardly, throwing Chloe an uncomfortable look. She tries to smile in return. Feels it only strengthen as Max returns the gesture in kind.
A pregnant pause. She licks her lips, looking over at the brunette young woman. The look of worry lining her features, making her look years older than she is. And to think, years ago, this is the girl she'd lie on her belly next to, hands smushed against her cheeks and kicking her legs back and forth idly, reaching into a plastic bowl filled with popcorn as they watched Spongebob or Power Rangers together, talking about which 'ranger' was the best, or whatever other inane questions'd pop into her head.
That was a lifetime ago.
Back in the bay.
"You gonna call her?"
She hears a gentle sigh, the quiet thud as the phone is placed next to hers, a resonating bump as her best friend - no, more - props her elbow against the window. Another sigh, heavier. A crash of thunder, making her flinch, the car swerving slightly from the sudden movement. Max yelps. Chloe apologises under her breath. Another sigh.
"I dunno what to say," Max finally mutters, her right hand clicking her left hand's fingers awkwardly. Chloe doesn't say anything, her fingers brushing the gearstick and her foot easing on the clutch as she waits for the brunette to talk again. "'Hi, mom, I wasn't sucked away in a f - fuck - a fucking torna -'" she stops talking suddenly, looking over with huge eyes. Chloe can't bring herself to meet Max's gaze.
A small hand touches her knee as she shifts gear, Chloe looking down at the pale hand, then - finally - at Max, again. Her blue eyes are wide, swimming in a transparent sea. She tears her gaze away, focusing on the road as a loud rumble of thunder pierces the morning air, only serving to make the girls shudder again. Once, the thunder was the perfect soundtrack to an intense game of 'pirates', captain Chloe and her first mate Maxine being the renowned buccaneers of the backyard, armed with fearsome water pistols and prepared to steal cookies from even the highest point in the kitchen.
But the thunder just … fuck, not after the week they've had. Chloe'd kill for a joint, right now, or even a pack of smokes. Or booze - just something to help her forget the storm that ripped up her home. A task impossible when thunder grumbles and groans, a continuous soundtrack to their drive away from the bay, from the storm.
Distance had seemed like the best plan. Her mostly jokey plan, to go to Portland and get tatted up, was now all they have. So, after a quiet late night conversation, their hands intertwined, they'd made the plan. Portland. She'd slept easier that night, a smile on her face, muttering to herself that things'd be okay. Back then, she'd thought some sleep, listening to some music and curling up under a blanket for the night would be enough to take the edge off of this. Yet, it seems the exact fucking opposite has happened. The silence that often fills the cab of the truck that had once been unspoken words and pounding hearts, has instead become a silent unification in misery.
The phone pings again, Chloe's lips twitching upwards a little despite herself. Even when they were kids, Vanessa had always been a worrier, gasping and clicking her tongue like the world's most softly spoken mother hen, rubbing wildly at the dirt that'd smear the brunette's cheeks, throwing reproachful looks at Chloe as they'd chirp about playing pirates.
"You should," she speaks lightly, glancing over at the brunette, who sighs again. Chloe licks her lips, focussing her attention on the road, wishing the wipers'd actually … work, more than they do. It's like she's staring at an ocean that's being deposited on her windscreen, right about now. "Just … might help, to hear your voice. Let her know you're ... okay."
Max pauses, her fingers still wrapped around Chloe's knee. The bluenette licks her lips. A third ping. She does her best not to show the red hot feeling of jealousy that rushes through her chest. She feels a squeeze on her knee, and gets the distinct feeling that Max knows. After a moment of hesitation, the fingers slip off Chloe's knee, and she hears the passenger of her truck start to fumble with her phone.
"I'll just quickly -"
Her ringtone starts blaring, the phone being left on 'hella fucking loud' in case someone from Arcadia tries to make a call, the near deafening volume of the poppy tune making Chloe jump out her skin. Max yelps, the volume of her - normally pretty quiet - phone catching her off guard also. The phone clatters onto the floorboard, the ringtone still blaring as loud as can be.
"Dog, that's friggin' loud," she laughs awkwardly, uncomfortably, fiddling with the volume control on her phone. Chloe nods, forcing a smile, even as her gut clenches, the iron fist of envy making her stomach over, she sees the word 'MOM' pop up as the Caller ID on Max's phone, Chloe instantly looks away, biting her lip. She hears a little sigh from little Max. "I'm just gonna -"
"Yeah." Chloe hesitates. "Uh-uhm, say … 'hi', from me, or … something," she tears her gaze away, pretending to focus on the road, even as her eyes glaze over, a little. She feels Max's hand on her knee again, hearing an affirmative 'hmhm' to accompany the action. The delicate hand brings a smile to her cheeks. This week's been … fuck, it's been shit and fuck and cunt, and every other dirty word she can think of, and then a couple more. But having Max back has been, to use her brunette amiga's pet word, hella wowser. Still, she does her best to tune out the conversation Max's having with her mom. Not that she's spiteful, just … shit, she doesn't know. Getting bitched at by Joyce and step dou - agh - step dad seems fucking awesome, right now.
After a couple seconds of failing to tune out the shrill squealing coming from Max's phone, the 'omigod my baby girl's safe and sound', the crying from Seattle, the insistence to come home, all that mushy stuff, Chloe grimaces and fiddles with the radio, careful not to shift Max's hand as she settles all the way back in her seat. The little comforting gesture, right now, feels like getting ten million hugs. And a little squeeze, as well. Hella lot of comfort, is the gist of it.
She sighs heavily, leaning her elbow against the window and using one hand to steer the vehicle. The rain drums loudly against the glass, an oddly melodic noise, despite her feelings towards the weather. Max lowers her voice, looking out the other window as she continues to talk to her mother, Chloe trying her absolute hardest not to say anything.
"Yeah, mom, I know …"
Chloe shuts her eyes for a moment, biting into her lip.
"No, Chloe's with me - yes, the Chloe. She's -" a beat of silence. Uncomfortable. Heavy. Itchy. "She's okay."
Liar liar, pants on fire.
"No, no, we can't, we're - I mean, yeah, okay, sure, I'll -"
A squeeze on her knee makes Chloe shift her eyes from the road, looking over at Max. Max's mouth opens, slightly, and she looks back to her phone. The brunette mumbles something about calling right back, not waiting for a response before hanging up. Neither of them speak, Chloe trying to swallow the sick feeling in her mouth and Max seemingly lost in thought. The pressure on her knee remains.
"Mom … wants to know if you want to stay with us in Seattle."
The tightness in her gut intensifies. She doesn't speak immediately. The thought of seeing the Caulfields, after they - they took Max away from her, after William died. And her own family is all fucking gone, and now she's having to think about staying with a happy family, even as all that's left of her family is tombstones, dead bodies and sad memories. A gentle pressure squeezes her knee, again.
"Chloe?"
She takes a slow breath, not looking at Max while she thinks. The rain crashes louder, Chloe cursing quietly under her breath as the windscreen wipers continue to do nothing against the onslaught of water. She's fully aware, at this point, the silence has shifted from 'aaaaawkward' to 'hella uncomfortable', but she can't bring herself to fix that. That'd be a first. Fixing something.
"We don't … have to."
Chloe glances over at that, taking a ragged breath. She swallows, watching as Max stares at her with those doe-like eyes. Just like they were, when they were kids. A dazzling shade of blue, the same as the picture of the butterfly that had caught her eyes, all those days ago, after she'd found out Max had - oh, yeah - saved her life. Not necessarily for the first time. She'd … never forgotten Max, all those five years. Seeing her, standing in her room, awkwardly holding William's camera, everything had seemed right.
"That's so cool you remembered my birthday, but … I can't take this." Max, ever the awkward hipster-dork, tries to hold the camera back out to Chloe, her eyes pleading. Chloe snorts, slightly, a 'pff-cha' leaving her lips as she presses her hands against Max's, smiling at the warm sensation in her gut as she pushes the camera back towards the brunette.
"Of course you can. My dad would be pissed if I never used it, and now I know it'll be used … awesomely." A proud grin touches Max's cheeks, Chloe admiring the sight for a second before peeling her eyes away. Her gaze lands on the butterfly photo, the one Max had been looking to nervously. Grinning goofily, Chloe sweeps it up, holding it in front of her, her eyes widening at the - fucking hella badass - picture of the blue butterfly. She smiles.
Max looks relieved.
"Aaaaand I'll snag this picture as a symbol of our reunion. Cool?"
Her fingers brush against Max's, their fingers fumbling against one another. Max squeaks, a little, making Chloe glance away from the road, only to watch as Max starts to wrap her pale fingers around Chloe's. Awkward, shaky, but worth itwhen their fingers intertwine after a couple shaky seconds more. She hears Max take a deep breath, a shaky and halting thing, but she's not blind to the smile that lights up the girl's features. Nervous, shy, but … awesome.
"I just thought you might … want somewhere to stay, that isn't your … truck."
"Not the first time on this rodeo," Chloe speaks lightly, squeezing Max's hand. "The homeless rodeo, I mean." Max wincing has Chloe wishing she can take back the words, still holding the brunette's hand. She squeezes it lightly, forcing her cheeks to twist her smile into something nicer. "Chill, Max. 's'okay."
Max doesn't seem convinced, her blue eyes slipping down to her knees. Considering everything, how insane this week has been, she doesn't blame Max for being disbelieving of the idea that things are anywhere near 'okay'. Out of other ideas, she squeezes Max's hand again, not saying anything as the rain continues to fall.
Seconds twist into minutes, trickling by at a snail's pace. Her fingers tighten around the wheel, her knuckles whitening. Max's grip tightens around Chloe's hand. Train tracks run in her mind, Max's timid voice talking about photography, how worried she'd been about meeting … Rachel, about 'bad boys' and all that stuff. That'd been after Frank, when Max had been prepared to shoot someone to keep Chloe safe. That's when she knew she'd made the right choice, giving her another chance. Or … something like that.
Quietly, she lets out a slow breath. She might not want to see Max's parents, but … it's not all about her. She'd realised that, overlooking the bay, thoughts of David and Joyce whirling like a dervish in her mind, matching the tornado that was before her very eyes. But Max … had thought differently, Chloe supposes. Not that she understands that, necessarily.
Max's stomach rumbling makes Chloe glance over, her lip twitching. The brunette has an arm folded over her stomach self consciously, her cheeks tinted a delicate shade of pink. Chloe pries her fingers away from Max's, her gut twitching a little at the separation of their hands, reaching for the bag of chips that rests next to her phone. Without grace, she drops the bag on Max's lap, offering a warm smile, which Max returns.
"Should eat."
"So should you."
Got me there.
The two raise eyebrows at one another, Chloe goading Max on to eat and Max being … fucking adorable. The sparkling blue eyes, the freckles on her cheeks, her gentle voice, her quiet, yet almost fierce, intensity, her unrivaled passion and the small laugh she occasionally lets rip. And her ass isn't bad eith -
"I'll eat if you do." Max's ultimatum, or whatever it's meant to be, has Chloe's lip twitch again. As stern as Max can be, she supposes, when the brunette is half asleep and already timid as shit. Reluctantly, however, she chooses to comply, not wanting to see Max get irritated after a week like the one they've had. Her fingers scrape against the chips, her eyes off the road as she rummages in the foil bag.
After a couple seconds, the wriggling is rewarded with a small handful of chips, Chloe finally moving her eyes back to the road. Max lets out a sigh of relief, something Chloe notices but chooses not to say anything about. Theatrically, she makes to move the food towards her mouth, her eyes on Max the whole time, only to last second -
"Chloe, nuh -"
The hand sweeps back to Max in an instant, a forcibly wicked grin curling Chloe's lips. Max's eyes go wider as the chips are 'forcibly deposited' for her consumption. When Max moves to cough, or remove them somehow, Chloe responds by clapping her hand across Max's mouth . Oldest trick in the book. Max sputters, coughing as she's forced to chew on the snack she's been 'given'. Despite the younger relenting and chewing on the salted snacks, Chloe doesn't fail to notice the glare she's gotten for that particular prank. Chloe blinks. Max'd always loved that, when they were little. She'd protest and squeal, and then she'd laugh so much she'd cry.
Simpler times.
She moves her hand away from Max's mouth, wiping it clear of the speckles of spit and crumbs against her pants leg with quick and aggressive swipes. Honoring the deal, Chloe sheepishly reaches back across the cab of the truck, to the chips bag balanced on Max's lap, and takes two out to chew on. Max still doesn't smile. Fuck. Uncertain on how to start the conversation again, Chloe looks back to the road, focusing on keeping the truck moving in as straight a line as possible - difficult enough with the rear axle being, well, a little bent, or one of the rear wheels being shot to shit, she isn't sure - in the crashing rain.
Several times, her mouth opens and shuts uselessly, her blue eyes wide as she looks over at her amiga, a million different things wanting to be said, all at the same time. It's not your fault. I'm here for you. Let's go to Seattle. Let's go to Portland first, though. Cheerier thoughts, replaced by questions she needed answers to. Why did you do it? Do you want to take it back? Are you pissed with me? And then the last, the one thought that bounces around in her brain, the same she'd had around Rachel for the longest time. I lo-
She clears her throat, awkwardly yet significantly, looking back to the road before her and heaving out a sigh through gritted teeth as she lets her mouth click shut. Max's frown is replaced by a somber look as her gaze lands on her phone, which is buzzing loudly, the word MOM - or, WOW, upside down - bursting back onto the bright screen. The brunette answers the call, Chloe drowning the conversation out as she takes a slow breath.
Maybe she'll try again, later.
Perching on the edge of the hood of her truck, Chloe squints through a hazy fog of cigarette smoke as she tries to pick out the various shapes that stars - allegedly - make. If she shuts her eyes, she can hear William's soft voice in her ears, crouching down next to herself and Max to tell them about what stars really were. Max had always thought they were angels, when they were both kids, that her grandma was up there twinkling above them in the deep purple skies. Chloe, on the other hand, had always insisted that they were magical, that the stars held the untold secrets to being the best pirates ever!
Turns out, they're actually burning balls of hydrogen and helium. Well, less burning and more constantly exploding. Hella badass.
The sound of the door thunking behind her makes her glance over, shifting the cigarette from her parted lips. Max shuffles over, her eyes wide and Bambi-like as she looks over at Chloe. The brunette holds her left arm in her right hand, swinging it back and forth like a pale and anxious pendulum. Blue eyes stare at her, drooping a little from tiredness, and Chloe swears she can make out a reddish-tint to the girl's eyes. Like she's been rubbing at them.
Quietly, Max inches over, wriggling for a short moment as she pulls herself up next to Chloe. As she makes to take a drag of the cigarette, Chloe pauses, looking over at the gir - no, wait, young woman - sat mere centimeters away. She extends the cigarette towards her. Max wrinkles her nose. Chloe smiles, if only a little.
"Gross."
"Spoilsport." Chloe pauses, looking between Max and the cigarette. Aughhh. She hesitates for the shortest of moments, before letting the cigarette drop into the damp grass that surrounds the truck. There's the faintest fizz, then nothing but the slight swishing of the trees. For a couple moments, they both just watch the cigarette. How it contrasts against the billion shades of green in this area. Too tired to keep driving, and not wanting to shell out cash to get a shithole motel room, Chloe'd taken the vehicle 'mudding' until they'd reached a quiet-ish spot.
Normally, Chloe has no doubt Max would be jumping for joy at all the potential photos she'd be able to take here. The woodlands and all the animals within. When she'd first taken Max to American Rust, the home away from hell - or hella, as Max had joked when they were setting up their 'CSI: Arcadia Bay' board - that she so desperately needed, she'd been able to hear the click and whizzzz from her dad's old polaroid camera, even as she finished off the beer in her bottle and did her best not to think about how far away Rachel probably was. Turns out, she was merely meters away. And under. God…
The silence finally getting to her, Chloe closes the gap between her and Max, scooting closer, the metal of the truck squealing slightly. Max looks over, her eyes definitely reddish and puffy, a vague attempt at a smile ghosting her lips. Apparently, even tiny smiles are contagious, as the sight of Max's face attempting a smile brings one to Chloe's face, the two sitting shoulder to shoulder on the hood of the rusty old vehicle.
After a minute more of gawking at Max's features, her heart pounding in her mouth, Chloe looks back towards the stars, a faint pink touching her cheeks. If Max had noticed the intensity of Chloe's stare, she doesn't say anything about it, Chloe watching out of her periphery as she, too, looks to the stars that twinkle above. Despite being miles and miles away, the view of the stars isn't that different from the view from her backyard.
Without the cigarette being there for her to occupy herself with, Chloe feels a dull - yet, insistent - itch forming under her skin. Her gaze slips away from the stars, moving towards Max, her heart jolting a little faster. Her lips go dry, her throat swelling up a little as she stares at Maximus Prime, the little brunette's eyes darting about the sky above. The same brunette that had …
"I double dare you! Kiss me now."
Her cheeks feel warmer at the exact moment she thinks of the dare Max had chosen to take. Warm lips against hers, the smell of chlorine still all over her, a gentle yet firm sensation at the same time. A fleeting instant and a fantastic eternity, all wrapped into one tender moment. All after a night of breaking and entering, stealing mad bank from Blackhell, and swimming with the world's dorkiest, yet cutest, otter.
Said otter still stares up at the sky, sitting in complete silence. Chloe's teeth dig into her bottom lip, watching Max breathe slowly in and out. If she concentrates, really concentrates, she can still feel Max's breath on her neck as she clutched her tight next to the lighthouse, hear her faint shuddering breathing, see the top of her hair nestle against her chin. Watching devastation unfurl before her very eyes, every part of the town she once grew up in disappearing moment by agonising moment, yet - at the same time - feeling the warm sensation of this - this fantastic person cuddling up to her, finding comfort from her.
"Sorry about … earlier," Chloe mutters out the corner of her mouth, wringing her hands together. Her 'prank', in retrospect, was probably poorly timed. Probably. Max's eyes widen, shifting from the stars in an instant. She blinks, staring at Chloe. Chloe stares back. Max fidgets for a single moment, before bowing her gaze, her voice awkward and meek.
"I didn't mean to get … shitty."
"Please, girl, you couldn't be shitty if you tried."
Max's face relaxes, her eyes drooping a little and a tiny smile touching her cheeks. Chloe drinks in the sight for a moment, before looking to one side. Their feet bump against one another, boots against sneakers, a dull thump resonating from the source of the impact every now and then. Like 'footsies', but without the teasing. Her fingers twitch, and she yanks her beanie off, her fingers tangling in her own electric blue hair. A desperate bid to try and distract herself from the itching sensation that makes her want to wriggle her fingers in between Max's again.
"I don't want to test that…"
Chloe nods, moving her fingers out her hair and instead just twisting her beanie in her grip in both hands. Ratty and worn, with a fair 'deposit' of blue hair clinging to the wool. Slowly losing its form through the last couple years of wearing the same piece of headwear over and over and over, the beanie is still kicking it. For now. God, this thing's old. Rachel's reaction when she saw her wearing it -
Please stop thinking about her, Brain.
"Your dye's fading." Chloe shrugs at the quiet statement from Max, a wave of emotions ebbing and flowing up and down her guts. Rachel's gone, but Max is here. Everyone's dead, but Max is here. Max is worth it, but … she could have saved everyone. But she didn't. Why? Shit.
"Yup."
"Going to get more?"
"Probably. Lost my stash, so…" Again, she smiles awkwardly, the fabric of the woolen cap snagging against her jagged nails every now and then. "Gonna have to get some for you, Caulfield. Make you look like a pirate as well." Max's face is an absolute picture in that moment, wide eyes and ever-so-slightly quivering lip. She starts to stammer out some uncertain sentence, only for Chloe to laugh - not unkindly - and raise a single finger. "I was fucking with you."
In an instant, Max relaxes, her shoulders slouching and a tiny smile back on her face. "G - Good. Jeebus, just imagine what my mom'd say …"
She's back in her house. She's sixteen again, having spent the past hour pacing back and forth in the bathroom, the last vestiges of fear coursing through her system, worrying over whether Rachel'd dig the new look, or not. Staring in the mirror as blond gave way to blue, her smile widening as she bounded down the stairs, reaching to grab some milk for her cereal when ...
"Chloe Elizabeth Price, what the hell have you done to your hair?!"
The hell she'd gotten, first time mom had seen her new hair, still rings in her ears to this day. Getting a lecture from Sergeant Pepper and mother-dearest hadn't been the best start to her 'new look'. The reaction it had gotten from Rachel had definitely been preferable, all gushing and holding her hands in her own cool ones, grinning from ear to ear as she told Chloe how 'fucking badass' she looked. Sometimes, though, she can't help but wonder what William'd think.
Clearly, she's been living in the past for a couple seconds too long and a couple facial expressions too obvious, her heart sinking at the mask of worry that adorns Max's face. A hand brushes against her arm, Chloe swallowing at the electric feeling in her skin, the bluenette silently praying Max doesn't feel the marks on her arms. Marks that aren't tattoos. Not in the traditional sense.
"You spaced out."
Chloe glances towards her arm, her eyes widening a little at how close Max is getting to touching one of them.
Out of instinct, her hand reaches forward, peeling Max's hand away from her arm, disguising the worried movement as a gesture of affection. Max's cheeks turn pink, letting her hand drop. Chloe holds onto her hand as it slumps on her knee, the sensation tearing away at the uncertainties niggling away at her. Her other hand wriggles the beanie cap back onto her hair, buying herself a couple more seconds of silence.
"That's what I get, missing my daily wake and bake."
It's a lie, a shitty fucking lie, but adding to the pile of worries Max already has seems like … beyond the worst possible choice. Max seems to take the bait, shrugging it off with a mumbled 'aah', the two going quiet for a moment. It takes a moment for either to talk again, Chloe relishing in the fact that Max's small hand is wrapped in her fingers and Max seeming fascinated by the way their fingers wrap around one another.
"This'd be a cool picture." Chloe glances up, watching the way Max stares at the ten interlocked fingers. "I could start a new photo wall, thing, in the truck. Keep track of where we're going, where we've been..." Her voice trails off, a nostalgic smile on her face.
"Go for it." Chloe smiles at the suggestion from Max, shrugging. "Sounds badass." Between the stickers, charms dangling off the mirror, and then all the graffiti she's done to the truck interior, it's definitely barren on the whole 'picture' side. Butit does have an Elvis bobblehead, which makes it the best truck ever, of all time.
Max hums, her head tilting to one side, her reddened eyes wide, her lips twitching upwards. Chloe's eyes lock on the red eyes, however, her heart sinking like a stone in a lake. Life's not fair. Why can't she catch a fucking break, just be happy with someone, without the blood of a town staining both their hands? That's all she wants, for … for them to be happy. Max glances away from her hands, her hesitant smile faltering. Chloe winces, realising the jig is up, that she's been spotted staring … again.
"Chloe? You keep, like… zoning out."
Just say it.
Her eyes stay trained on Max's for a moment more before she speaks up, taking every word as slowly and carefully as she can. Don't fuck this up, Price.
"Your … your eyes are all, like, red and shit, dude. You … wanna talk about it?" In an attempt to calm Max as she looks down at her sneakers hurriedly, Chloe squeezes her pale hand, gently yet firmly. "We don't have to. I get it." As quickly as she started trying to give a shit, she starts backing up, her tone even as she can make it. "Just, you know…"
"I just keep -" Max's breathing starts to get uneven, Chloe squeezing her hand again. If Max feels it, she chooses not to say anything. "F-fucking everything up -"
"Max…"
"I could change time, and I didn't - I couldn't help anyone -"
"Stop…" Chloe breathes, trying to sound authoritative even as her heart breaks. "That's not true."
"I tried to save people, tried to make f-friends with my power, and help someone for once. I - I couldn't save Kate, and then I - I let everyone -" she chokes up at that, her spare hand going to her face. A shuddering breath comes from her lips, so loud against all the quiet noises of the night. Out of other ideas, Chloe gives a little pull, easing her hand out of Max's before wrapping an arm around the brunette's shoulders. Both Max's hands cover her face, her shoulders shaking as she takes uneven breaths. Despite trying to be there, Chloe's far from sure on how to reassure someone that it's not their fault they can travel through time. Even if she wants to spend the rest of her -
"I wish I never got my powers…"
Her lips press against the top of Max's head, silently reassuring her as much as she can as her thoughts meld away. Max huddles up to her, saying nothing, her shoulders still shaking. The wind murmurs around them, a whispering gale that's audible over Max's quiet sniffling. She tries not to show the icy feeling in her heart, realisation she'd have died - more than once, according to Max - if Max hadn't become Super-Max for a week. Her eyes slip shut, inhaling slowly as she moves her lips away, still clutching the brunette close to her.
"I'm glad you did. Better you than me, am I right?" Chloe mutters softly, resting her chin on top of Max's head. "I'm … hella glad you did." She hesitates, licking her dry lips. Her heart leaps around in her chest, Chloe being almost certain that Max can hear the erratic beat.. "Even without your powers, you're …"
Say it.
She takes a slow breath, psyching herself up.
Say. It.
She's gonna freak.
Doesn't matter. She is what you're gonna say.
"You're my hero, Max." If she pulls her a little closer, she'd be able to look into her eyes, see all the freckles that line her cheeks, maybe even feel her breath. Again, she itches to feel Max's lips on hers. She shifts away, slightly, so she's able to look the blue-eyed brunette in the eyes, her arm still wrapped around her as she keeps talking. "So don't talk like that. 'cause, without you, I wouldn't even be alive to say this shit to you."
That makes Max take a pause, huddling back up to Chloe. Almost out of instinct, her lips press against the mess of brown hair nestled on top of Max's head, again, breathing in slowly. The small hipster - emphasis on small and hipster - mutters something under her breath, before awkwardly speaking up again.
"Wowser, Chloe…"
"So just … don't say you didn't help anyone." She doesn't mean to sound like some bossy bitch, so does everything she can to keep her voice light and chirpy. Even if she is talking about the fact she died… several times. "I should be dead, what, four - five times over? You saved me, each time, 'cause you're a fucking badass. Even when I treated you like shit, you'd save me. I dunno why -"
"You were just hurting because of -"
"I treated you like shit." Chloe repeats herself, narrowing her eyes as she looks to her boots. Getting her rage on with Max when they'd first drove back to home-shit-home, giving her shit for the five years they hadn't spoken, freaking on her when they found out that Rachel was banging Frank, not wanting to listen when Max had said Nathan was already dead, and all that sick shit Jefferson had done. Bitch of the year award goes to … oh, what a surprise, it's me! "I just get -"
"I get it." Max mumbles, still nuzzled under Chloe's chin. Her sneakers still bump against Chloe's boots, every now and then. Less frequently, though. "You're an asshole -"
"- Gee, thanks -"
"- but you're my asshole."
Chloe pauses, something about that sentence not being quite right in her sleep-deprived brain. She turns that sentence over, thinking about it over and over when … oh man, no she didn't. Chloe bites her lip, trying to hold back the laughter that lurches from her chest, even at something as unfunny as that. Might just be some built up giggles, or something. Max seems to realise her faux pas, opening her mouth to try and correct herself, only to give up when Chloe keeps snickering.
"I'm going to punch your face." Max tries to sound irritable, but - judging from the slight wavering on her voice - she finds it just as funny as Chloe seems to.
"You mean punch your asshole?"
"Chloeeeeee -"
Max pouts, and Chloe responds by pulling her tight again, her smile widening by the second as she looks back out to the stars. Maybe, just maybe, everything's gonna be okay for them. She shuts her eyes, inhaling deeply as she drinks in the happy moment for a little longer. It isn't okay now, what happened in the bay. And it probably won't be okay tomorrow. But it's going to be okay. One day.