Author's note: While this story is compatible with saved-Chloe canon, I really wrote it as a follow-up to my earlier AU story Skate.
College. Chloe had transferred into Max's university for her sophomore year, so they could stick together. "This is actual education, not just a jail for teenagers," she'd said, and her grades were quite a bit better than they'd been in high school. They rented a small studio apartment near campus, decorated it mostly with Chloe's picks from Max's photos, her taste running to the grittier end of the portfolio. It was cramped, but life was good with a place of their own. Max sat at the desk, typing.
"Coming to the party?" Chloe asked.
"Nah, I've really gotta finish this paper."
"Dude it's Saturday night! Finish it tomorrow."
"Tomorrow I've got a shoot, and I want to have time to cook us something nice for dinner."
"Alright, can't say no to that."
Max knew how this would go. When they went to parties together, they hung out with their friends, had a couple drinks, danced a bit, headed home at a reasonable hour. When Chloe went alone, she came home later and considerably more intoxicated. "I missed you Max!" she'd say, climbing into bed, kissing Max happily, and crashing hard as soon as her head hit the pillow. Max smiled at the thought, then got back to work.
On her way out the door, Chloe bent over Max and kissed her neck. "Love you, Doctor Caulfield. Don't work too hard."
"Love you too Chloe. Have fun."
"You know I will!"
Midnight. Max rubbed her eyes, read through her work once more. This was good enough. She didn't feel like going to bed yet though, and the party was only a few blocks away. Might as well go collect my girlfriend, she thought. She texted Chloe, put on a jacket, and headed over.
The party was in a big house, was very crowded, very loud, dimly lit, and smelled of spilled beer. Max threaded her way from room to room through the crowd. Most people here were already pretty far gone, and she didn't feel like trying to catch up. She just wanted to find Chloe. She pushed into a room and saw a familiar shock of blue hair at the far end. Finally. She squirmed between packed bodies and then she saw more. Chloe was up against the far wall. There was a girl, tall with long brown hair, very close to her. Kissing her. Chloe's right hand was on the girl's hip. No. She stared a moment. Chloe's left hand moved to the strange girl's other hip. Max felt sick to her stomach. What the hell is this? She said she wouldn't do this. Who is that girl? Why would she do this?
She stepped backward into the crowd. Stood stunned a moment, then opened her camera bag, pulled out her instant camera. Leaned through bodies again, aimed, pressed the trigger, and retreated as soon as the flash went off. She fled the scene, walking fast back to the apartment, tears running freely down her face. On the way, she sent a text.
"Hey, Emily, I know it's super late, but can I crash on your couch tonight?" Emily was a night owl, she'd still be up.
Her phone buzzed immediately. "Sure Super Max. What's up?"
She didn't respond. She got home, packed her bag with some clothes, her computer, and her cameras. On her way out she tacked a message on the front door.
Somewhere along the line, Chloe had switched from weak beer to strong cocktails, and in retrospect, she thought maybe this was a poor choice. She wasn't entirely clear on how many she'd had or how, exactly, she'd met this girl (who had said her name but Chloe couldn't hear it over the thumping music). She was definitely not clear on how this girl had managed to back her up against a wall and lock lips with her, but she was not above enjoying the proceedings. I wish Max were here, she thought, I'd rather be kissing her. She noticed a flash in the crowd, but didn't look up.
They continued like this for a while, everybody around ignoring them. Then the girl pulled away, put her mouth to Chloe's ear. "Want to get out of here? My place is just down the block. I'd love to make you breakfast."
Chloe recoiled from this and looked at the girl, waking up a bit. Go home with her instead of going home to Max? She didn't want that. She didn't want any of this. "No, sorry, I… need to get home. Alone. I shouldn't… I shouldn't be here." She turned and started pushing her way out of the party, and didn't look back.
Leaving the house, she checked her phone. Crap, she missed a text from Max. "Paper's as good as it's going to get, heading to the party to meet you." What? She never saw Max at the party. She started to compose a response, but then she remembered the flash in the crowd, while she was into it with that girl. Oh shit, she thought. She picked up the pace, jogging the rest of the way home. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. She got to the building, stormed up the stairs, stood in front of the door to their apartment.
There was an instant photo, tacked to the door at eye level. Of her. Making out with the girl who was definitely not Max. She fumbled with the keys, opened the lock. Stepped inside. Dark. "Max?!" She switched on the light. Nobody home. Breathing hard, she took stock. Everything looked normal. But there, Max's suitcase was gone. Her cameras. Some of her clothes. "Fuck!" she yelled, stumbling to the bed. She sat down and took out her phone. Called. No answer. Of course. Started sending texts.
"Max im so sorry"
"im super wasted i made a mistake it was dumb"
"plz call me so we can talk"
"and plz come home"
"i love you"
"please talk to me"
Nothing came back. It was two in the morning. She slumped over on the bed and passed out.
Max walked the short distance to Emily's place. Emily was gay as hell, buff, crew cut hair, and a serial hook-up artist. The polar opposite of Max and Chloe's steadfast monogamy, and they both made fun of each other for it. She was a good friend. How she afforded her own apartment this close to campus was anybody's guess, but Max was glad she had a place to crash without a bunch of roommates hanging around.
Emily opened the door to Max's knock, and she immediately stepped inside, her suitcase rolling behind her. Emily's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Holy shit Max, planning to stay a while? You look like hell. What is going on?"
Max looked up at Emily with tired, red eyes. "I caught Chloe making out with another girl at a party. I bailed."
Emily knit her brow. "She was kissing another girl and you… left her? What did she have to say?"
"I didn't talk to her."
"Wow, Max, that seems… a little extreme. If you don't mind my saying so."
Now Max fixed Emily with an angry stare. "She promised me it would always be just the two of us. Promised."
"OK, but, I mean… she's probably hammered, this kind of thing happens a lot. It's not necessarily a big deal."
"What happens a lot?! You've seen her do this before?!"
"No no, I mean to the rest of us. Mere mortals."
"Emily, when was the last time you were in a relationship for more than six months?"
"When was the last time I was in a relationship for more than six weeks? Fine, I know, you guys are different. But that just means walking out like this is an even bigger fucking deal."
"Kissing other girls behind my back is a big fucking deal! I can't just hang around and wait for her to come home after this, if she even does, OK?"
"Alright. This isn't my fight. She'll text me eventually. What do I tell her?"
"You haven't seen me."
Emily shook her head, sighed. "OK, you were never here."
Max turned to Emily's couch. "Thanks for letting me crash here. I'd better try to get some sleep."
"Don't have to sleep on the couch, you know."
"Really?!" Max snapped. "No, you won't be adding a notch to your belt tonight."
"That's not what I meant, Max. But whatever, take the couch if you want. I'll leave you alone."
Emily went into her bedroom, closed the door. Max collapsed on the couch and looked at her phone. Chloe would call when she got home, and Max doubted she'd be able to resist answering it. Chloe was her best friend, and what she wanted most of all right then was to talk to her best friend. So she turned it off, closed her eyes, and tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep.
Chloe awoke with a start. The clock by the bed read 10:42. For a split second, she felt OK. Then the headache kicked in, and the nausea. Then she realized she was alone, and then she remembered. Oh no. She scrambled up and ran into the bathroom, threw up into the toilet in long, painful, choking heaves. Gasping for air, she mocked herself bitterly. Calling God on the big white phone! Could use an assist down here! After the retching subsided she sat on the floor a while, leaning against the wall. This is a new low. Once she thought she could stand, she got up, washed her face, brushed her teeth. Stumbled out of the bathroom, picked up her phone. Nothing. Tried to call Max again, got no answer. Texted again.
"Max, I am sorry"
"come home"
I have to find her, I have to explain, she thought. Where are you Max? They mostly had the same friends. She started texting.
But nobody, it seemed, had seen Max. Or at least, nobody was willing to admit it. She's staying with somebody, but they won't give her up. Fuck, this is bad.
She was too hung over for this. She crawled back into bed and closed her eyes. What if she never comes home?