A/N: This is a rewrite of my other fic, After The Storm. I changed the story around, and more importantly, changed the writing style.


October 12th, 2013

The torrential rain finally slowed to a sprinkle.

Sunshine illuminated each drop with a strangely peaceful glow, pattering onto Max's already drenched jacket. She stepped out of Chloe's truck with a limp from trying to escape the lighthouse before it crashed down on them. Despite the amount of times she saw it tumble to the ground every single day, it took until the last second to scream at Chloe and warn her of the debris. A near blinding agony throbbed in her thigh and forced a tearful grimace. If it's broken, I'll take that over being dead.

She put a hand on the hood to hold herself up, leaves and sticks littering the rusted metal. In another timeline, one where it had all been a nightmare, it would've been the perfect photo opportunity with the drizzles of water coating the paint.

But today they were a cursed memento of whiplashing winds carrying the weight of her selfishness.

Blood flecked her lips as she spat out rain water. Each step felt like quicksand as she dragged herself to Chloe, who didn't look any much better with a cut and dried blood on her chin. Her feet grew numb from soaked socks, although frostbite was the least of her worries.

The Storm was predicted to head back towards Arcadia Bay. Whether it wanted to taunt them or finish the job, it ravaged whatever sat in between Seattle and the fallen planned to sleep in the truck and hope for the best until Chloe caught a sign mentioning some rest area and proceeded to haul ass towards it.

The motel itself stood tall as a two story house with brick walls tattered and graffitied over. A dense forest sat behind it, and Max could see the building extended further. The smell of pine wafted through the air as the two shuffled through its front doors, Chloe holding a jacket over both of their heads like a makeshift umbrella. Seawater stained the wooden flooring inside with a squishiness under their shoes. A far cry from what they'd like, but it'd do for now. The receptionist went into full blown emergency mode as soon as he spotted them, leaping from a desk and guiding them through a hallway.

Clearly, Arcadia Bay finally made it to national news. Just not the way anyone would've thought.

They stopped in front of an antique door with a miniature deer head hung at the top when he gave them the keys. "Stay for as long as you need," he had said. Max tried to thank him but the weariness in her throat grew tight and she turned away, head in Chloe's shoulder.

The room seemed to ease the sickness in Max's stomach. Quiet. A change for the better after sirens blared nonstop for however long they drove. Wooden furniture was placed around the inside like any other motel would. A bed sat in the middle against a wall, next to a window faced out towards the ocean. The musk of seawater and fish slipped through cracks in the edges. Clouds began to tint the distant sky blue with sorrowness like it knew what happened.

Driving through the remains of Arcadia Bay tore open a pit in Max's chest. Everything they knew. Everywhere they went in their childhood. Houses they once biked around and parks they hung out at. Gone.

Blighted by the Storm.

I'm so, so, sorry, Chlo. Max could only stand and stare as Chloe shakingly sat on the foot of the bed. An empty look glazed over her once vibrant blue eyes. It was only two days ago they were in her room, the smell of chlorine a reminder of breaking into the pool. Laughing, listening to music. Being whole.

To Chloe, it must've seemed like a flash. From daring your friend to kiss you to losing every god damn thing you know.

Maybe in another timeline, Max let fate have its way. There would've been a memorial at Blackwell filled with fake condolences to look good on the news. Nathan's arrest would've surprised everyone except hers, and maybe his parents. But no matter what, an ache in her heart would've stayed every day until graduation came and walking past that bathroom became a distant memory. Nothing would change the fact her childhood best friend died without knowing she still cared and was so fucking scared of getting turned away.

Maybe eventually she'd heal. Get a degree in photography and work for some lousy magazine. Explore the world and make it big. Maybe then the scars would be masked with success and one day she'd go to Chloe's grave and say she did everything they dreamed about as kids.

But that wasn't reality.

After what seemed like years, Chloe looked at Max with tears welling up. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, filled with pain. "Max, promise me something." Her voice cracked amid sniffles.

Max could only nod. The sight of a weathered Chloe on the verge of breaking ripped through her chest like the gunshot that started everything.

"You already got this far. Please, fucking please, don't leave me again."

"I… I won't."

For how long,

she did not know.