Disclaimer: I do not own any Life is Strange or Square.

After the Last Chapter of Life is Strange, I had this story stuck in my head and had to write it down. Enjoy the first chapter. More chapters are soon to come.

Rated M for later chapters involving mature themes language and sexual content


Max was nervously pulled into a tattoo parlor by her more adventurous blue haired half, Chloe. They had laid around half dressed many nights in hotel beds on their road trip down from the destruction, tracing their fingertips upon each other's skin, making imaginative marks of where and what their matching tattoo should be, leaving trails on goosebumps and prickled hairs. It was Chloe's idea to get one, a symbol on their connection and all they had gone through together. It was Max's idea of a blue butterfly, cliche and girly for most, but to them it was the mark of their destinies intertwine. It would also be an in memoriam of everyone lost in the Acadia Bay tornado, although it felt like such a vain and feeble tribute.

In the morning after sunrise, the golden hour, when they held each other close, they debated on location. Chloe laughed at Max's absurd idea of the lower back. 'There is no way in hell I'm getting a tramp stamp.' And Max would argue that she didn't want it to be in a visible place. Chloe on the other hand was adamant about the left wrist or upper arm. They would playfully tease and tickle, pushing back the pain of Max's destructive decision to stay in the present and fight the storm. They settled on the left back shoulder. Max never took this plan seriously, she simply enjoyed feeling the energy that left Chloe's fingers and transferred onto hers as she laid topless.. It was a half thought, a daydream, one of many unfollowed through plans to come. However the second night in San Francisco Chloe somehow got her in the parlor. Max begged for Chloe to go first, but Chloe did not want her chickening out after she was already branded.

Max removed her shirt and laid down on the bed. She winched when she heard the buzz of the machine. To her surprise it didn't hurt as much as she braced herself for, just a discomforting burn, something she could easily handle after all the physical tolls of time travel and her torture in the dark room. Still, tears began to flow as Max remembered all those lost in the storm, her storm. She turned her head away from the tattoo artist and silently sobbed into the black plastic bed, trying her best not to fidget. Chloe, who was sitting in a stool, rolled over to her and brushed a thumb over her cheek. Max smiled a reassured smile seeing the her face, the one she sacrificed everything for, the only thing that mattered in this time and any others, her Chloe. She focused on Chloe as her mind's eye began to burn. Burnt red bubbles filled all around her until Chloe's face faded. Colors went to gray then black , and then nothing, no more sound, just darkness.


Max awoke alone in her dorm at Blackwell Academy. "Another dream," Max whispered to herself. She curled her legs close and sobbed into her knees. That was her fifth dream of Chloe. These dreams haunted her, taunting her with a life that could have been. They weren't simply visions. It was as if she slipped into a parallel portal of another timeline. They were so real she could feel the needle on her skin, Chloe's hand across her cheek. The dreams tore her wounds open and made her heart bleed for her best friend. In the waking hours she would try to suture her soul only to have it slashed open by her nightly illusions. As painful as it was, she longed for the places promised to her in dreams, where she could be with Chloe. And in the cold mornings when the realization of reality filled her room like the rising sun, making horizontal lines of yellow across her walls, she pushed her mind back into the darkness and chase the images only to find her dreams decayed, disappearing into the drips of daylight on her eyelids.

Max took out her notebook to write the most current dream down while it was still fresh in her mind.

Nov. 2- Chloe and I leave a destroyed Arcadia Bay. David gave us $10,000 cash in a metal lock box. 'Sometimes into good to have a paranoid stepdad', Chloe said. David told us to start a new life, just don't spend any money on drugs. Chloe embraced David and told him she loved him and will be back after some major soul searching. The dream faded as soon as we passed the Acadia Bay sign.

Nov 5- Chloe and I stopped in Portland to see some punk show she was looking forward to. I felt like a poser in my simple t-shirt and jeans, but Chloe totally fit in. True to her word, Chloe doesn't spend a penny on weed or booze. It was nice to see her clean and having fun. She danced like crazy. It was a blast. Some creepy guy with a bad dye job and sloppy pants invited me back to his place. He wouldn't leave me alone, so Chloe came up to me a kissed me until he did. I'm not sure if it was for show or for real, but it was nice to have her protection. After the show we were too tired to find a hotel room so we crashed in the bed of her truck. The dream ended as Chloe took my hand in her as we watched the stars in the night sky.

Nov 10- Chloe and I were driving down the coast. We fought over music. She called mine slow indie shit that would make her fall asleep at the wheel and cause us all to die. I argued her angry punk songs would throw me into a Hulk-like rage. We settled on some classics like The Smiths and The Cure. We talked of our plans, or lack thereof. 'Down the Coast and then Beyond!' was Chloe's mantra. In my dreams I have no fear for the future. I feel safe and strong when I am with her. Images went to red to black as I started out the window watching the hills in the distance.

Nov 13- Chloe and I crashed in a shitty motel somewhere on the Oregon state line while her truck was being fixed. Chloe braved the creepy ass truck stop for some food. She came back with Hostess cupcakes, Bugles and a disposable camera. She handed me the camera and told me it was better than nothing, since I lost her Dad's Polaroid in the storm. She told me San Fran would probably have some hipster store I can buy a real one at. Without thinking, I tried to kiss her. She flinched and we fell down on the bed. She apologized and said she was not used to people attacking her with tongue. Then, with her on top of me, she gently pressed her lips on mine. We laid there on the bed for a long time eating food, making witch fingers with Bugles like we used to as kids. We looked at maps and made half-assed plans about cities and tattoos. The outdated alarm clock clicked to 6:00 am and the dream faded.

Max turned to a blank page and wrote down her latest dream. At first she was writing down facts and places, then emotions took control as the pen scribbles across the page and she choked on more sobs. She didn't want to lose these fleeting feelings for the figment of her passed friend. Tears stained the notebook as she finished her entry;

I am falling in love with Chloe Price.