[12 Oct, 2013]

Kristen: Are you there, Max?

Kristen: The news is saying that Arcadia Bay got hit by some kind of storm.

Kristen: Just hit me back so I know you're okay.

[13 Oct, 2013]

Kristen: Seriously, Max?!

Kristen: Now is not the time to screen your calls!

Kristen: Please message me back.

[16 Oct, 2013]

Kristen: I'M LOSING IT HERE, MAX!

Kristen: CNN SAYS THERE WEREN'T ANY SURVIVORS?

Kristen: THEY SAID BODIES ARE WASHING UP IN WASHINGTON!

Kristen: ANSWER ME, PLEASE!

[19 Oct, 2013]

Max: I'm here, Kris. I got out in time.

Kristen: WHAT IN THE HELL?!

Kristen: A WEEK?

Kristen: IT'S BEEN A WEEK MAX!

Kristen: WHERE HAVE YOU FUCKING BEEN?

Max: I know. I'm sorry. But I'm okay.

Kristen: Me and Nando have been freaking out this whole time!

Max: I'm sorry. Seriously. I lost my phone. And there's been a lot going on.

Kristen: We thought you were dead!

Kristen: You call me as soon as you can, okay?!

Ryan: How are the girls doing?

Vanessa: I honestly can't tell. They seem alright, but that's what's worrying. Should they be alright? Does that make sense?

Ryan: I'm sure they just need time to process everything.

Vanessa: That's what's so stressful. It feels like we're living with a couple of timebombs and I'm just waiting for them to go off.

Ryan: I went through the same thing when you were studying for the Bar Exam. You seemed fine for months before the dam broke.

Vanessa: I wasn't THAT bad.

Ryan: Sweetheart, we watched that movie where the little boy dies trying to get his friend's ring back and you cried for two hours.

Ryan: We can't keep them from hurting. All we can do is be there for them when they are.

Kristen: Hey Max. You there?

Kristen: If you're feeling up to it, I thought we could go grab some coffee and catch up.

Max: hello u have reached max's pants

Max: shes not in them right now

Max: pls leave a mssg

Max: kthxbye

Kristen: What?

Max: That wasn't me!

Max: I was in the shower and Chloe figured out my password!

Kristen: Interesting.

Kristen: And Chloe would be...?

Max: Didn't I tell you?

Kristen: You did not.

Max: She's from Arcadia Bay, too. We were best friends growing up and she's staying with my family.

Max: and shes super sexy and totes awesome at evrything

Max: I'm sorry! She keeps taking my phone from me!

Max: shes also way taller than i am and can go outside cus she isnt just wearing a towel

Kristen: I see.

Kristen: Chloe, I presume?

Max: what do u mean?

Max: ur crazy

Max: this is max

Kristen: Okay, 'Max'. Do you think Chloe would like to come get coffee with us, too?

Kristen: Hello?

Kristen: You still there?

Max: Yes, I'm sure that Chloe would love to join us.

Max: Assuming I ever let her out of the hall closet.

Fernando: Hey, Max? I just got a text about you.

Fernando: Do you know someone named Chloe?

Max: Whatever she said, I'm sorry! :(((((

Max: She was my best friend growing up but she doesn't have much of a filter.

Fernando: It's cool. It wasn't anything bad!

Fernando: I just wanted to know why a stranger was saying she was my new bro-in-law.

Max: Oh.

Max: Welcome to the family, I guess?

Max: What time do you get off work?

Chloe: please dont say get off in the same sentence as my job

Max: And there's an image I'll never get out of my head.

Chloe: u know nothing

Chloe: i had to clean out the bathrooms today

Chloe: ive seen things max

Chloe: horrible things

Chloe: i work in hell

Max: You work at Chipotle.

Chloe: same thing

Chloe: u up?

Max: Yeah.

Chloe: cant sleep

Chloe: bad dreams

Max: Me too.

Chloe: r we safe?

Chloe: here i mean

Max: Of course we are.

Chloe: k

Max: Come sleep with me?

Chloe: ya?

Max: Yeah.

Chloe: k

October 31, 2013
Caulfield Residence
Seattle, Washington

Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, and even though it's only been twenty days since the loss of Arcadia Bay, Chloe and I have resolved that we'll make a genuine effort to enjoy it.

We briefly considered dressing as pirates, just like when we were kids, but those memories come packaged with a bunch of others that neither of us feel remotely prepared to face just yet. Instead, we scrounge around the local thrift shops for ideas. Upon discovering a bright blue military dress coat, I'm inspired to dress like the Beatles in their Sgt. Pepper days. I even find a pair of yellow circular glasses to complete the look. Chloe, on the other hand, apparently feels no inspiration at all and settles for cutting two holes in an old bedsheet.

When my parents comment on the costume, she tells them she decided to dress up as a Blatant Scareotype; I roll my eyes, Mom hides a smile, and Dad high-fives her.

There's a bunch of young families in our neighborhood, and – once I finally get Chloe to stop eating all the candy herself – I find myself looking forward to every knock on the door. Most of the kids don't understand my costume, but a lot of the parents seem to get a kick out of it. Chloe's mostly just gets her slightly amused smiles, right until a mildly smarmy young father asks what's so scary about a generic bedsheet ghost.

"Your student loans won't be paid off until your mid-foooooorties!" Chloe wails in response, waving her arms over her head. "Your home equity is dropping as we speeeeeak!"

Surprised, the guy laughed all the way to the end of the driveway. Chloe, naturally, spent the rest of the evening preening at the accomplishment.

Slowly, little by little, I feel a weight I've only vaguely been aware of lift from my shoulders. For a while, the tiny voice in the back of my mind that constantly reminds me of everything that's happened goes quiet. Then, just as I'm finishing with a trio of adorable trick-or-treaters dressed as bear cubs, I turn around to find myself face-to-face with the camera on Dad's phone.

"Say cheese!"

The flash goes off before I can think. I feel my throat tighten as spots dance across my vision, and for a split second I'm back in the Dark Room, Mark Jefferson looming over me.

"Oh Christ..." I hear him say, as clearly as if he were right there beside me. "Look at that perfect face."

I'm barely aware of the shriek that erupts from my throat as I instinctively lash out, slapping the phone from Dad's hand and sending it crashing into the tiles of the front hallway's floor. I'm running before anyone can say a thing, rushing up the stairs and into my bedroom. Slamming the door, I curl up on my bed and purposefully ignore the concerned voices in the hall. It takes nearly ten minutes for my heart to stop thundering in my ears and, as I lay there, I wonder if there's any truth to the idea that a camera can steal a person's soul.

It's not long before I hear a soft knock on the door. I assume it's one or both of my parents and ignore it, hoping they'll take a hint and go away. Another knock follows a second later, followed by Chloe's hesitant voice. "Hey, Max? You okay in there?"

Part of me wants to ignore her, too, but I can't. Not Chloe. "...yeah."

"Feel like opening the door?" After a second, she adds, "It's just me out here."

Like always, my desire to be left alone pales next to the need to have Chloe by my side. "There's no lock."

Chloe opens the door slowly, peeking inside. "Mind if I come in?"

I just shrug, listlessly, and she takes it as an invitation. Closing the door behind her, she pads across the room and takes a seat at my side.

"Sooooo..." she begins, reaching out to stroke her hand up and down my back. "You kinda flipped out on your dad back there, huh?"

I wince. "Is he mad?"

"I think he's more worried than angry. I know how he feels." She leans over to bump her shoulder against mine. "Feel like talking about it?"

I mumble an answer, leaning back before our shoulders can break contact and curling a little into her side.

"Come again?"

"Camera," I repeat, louder. "He took my picture. It reminded me..."

"...of him," she finishes, looking sad, but not very surprised.

"Yeah."

"I kinda thought that might've been it."

Of course she did. If there's anyone in my life who'd make the connection right away, it'd be her. "I know it's stupid. It didn't even happen in this timeline, but it still..."

"Hey," Chloe gently takes me by the shoulders, turning me to face her. "You're not stupid, you hear me? Even if it isn't real for everyone else, that doesn't mean it isn't still real for you."

"I hate it." I squeeze my eyes shut, as if it'll block out the memories. "I hate that he still has this...this power over me."

"I know," she murmurs. "I know you do."

The two of us sit quietly for a while, Chloe offering silent comfort and me accepting it. Eventually, she leans back to look me in the eye.

"You feel like going back downstairs?" she asks. "Your mom and dad would probably like to know you're okay."

I silently shake my head.

"Want me to leave?"

I shake my head again, a little more forcefully, and wrap my arms around her.

"Geez, clingy much?"

I don't respond, except to tighten my hold on her waist.

"Okay, okay. Message received," she laughs. "I don't think you're up to any more trick or treaters anyway, are you?"

"Nope."

"Fair enough. It's getting kinda late, anyway. Maybe we should just get to bed. Sound good?"

It's not the first time she's said something like that, but tonight the 'we' echoes in my ears and suddenly all I can think about is a very important question that we've both been very deliberately avoiding. It's sort of come up every night since we arrived in Seattle, and every time it does we manage to both avoid and answer it at the same time, both without ever having to say a word.

Will the two of us be sharing my bed that night, or hers?

That first night, when I'd curled up next to Chloe without any real fear of being rejected, had been about two people who just been through something horrible, each of us seeking security and comfort from the other. The next night had been the same. On the third night, when she'd come into my room with a sweet, hesitant smile, I'd taken her hand and led her to my own bed without a second thought.

I think we both figured it would be a temporary thing; a way to feel safe at a time when we were still regaining our balance. But as each night came and went, we just kept doing it. Never acknowledging how natural it felt. Never admitting that the way we held each other at night was a lot more intimate than you'd expect from two best friends.

Never talking about the big, intense, exciting, intimidating, beautiful, terrifying, and potentially life-changing things it implied. I know it's ridiculous, even a little juvenile, but it sometimes feels like we're both afraid to acknowledge this fragile thing between us.

Long story short, my best friend (definitely gay) and myself (99% probably gay, too) have shared the same bed every night for the last three weeks, curled up together in a way that no rational person could possibly consider platonic, and we're both too utterly chickenshit to talk about what that might mean.

Like I said, ridiculous and juvenile.

I've tried to bring it up, by which I mean that I've definitely thought very hard about maybe trying to bring it up in a sort of offhanded way, but never have because I am, as noted above, utterly chickenshit.

But you know what? To hell with it. I'm probably not going to finally say the words, but I'm going to give it another shot anyway. And one, two, three...

"Chloe, there's something I need to ask you."

I feel my stomach drop. I heard the words out loud just now, and I did recognize my own voice, but I'm still trying to figure out how those two things actually came together. That wasn't supposed to happen. I was supposed to be lying to myself. I was supposed to try, then fail, then give myself a nice pat on the back for trying. But it's too late for all that now because they're out there and it's not like I can just take them back.

(Except I maybe could, and I've never been more tempted to rewind than I am at this moment.)

Chloe's hand briefly falters in its path on my back, and there's a tiny hint of not-quite-fear in her voice when she asks, "What's up?"

Trying to hide my own nerves, I offer her a smile that feels a little forced. I briefly consider making up a different and harmless question when my voice decides to act on its own again. "What are we doing?"

She looks startled, and her hand stops moving altogether.

"When we sleep at night, I mean," I continue, forcing myself to not look away. "We share the same bed every night, but we never talk about it."

There's a lot of uncertainty behind the amused look Chloe gives me. "Trying to get rid of me?"

"No, never." I cautiously take Chloe's hand, my heart thundering in my chest as I consider my options. Part of me wants to retreat, to take back what I said and return to the state of willful ignorance we're been comfortably living in...but it's too late for that. The question is out there and there's no going back. All I can do is push ahead and hope I'm not about to break whatever fragile thing has been growing between us. "But in three weeks, I don't think I've even considered the idea of us sleeping in separate beds. Have you?"

Chloe opens her mouth, then closes it and very slowly shakes her head.

"Right. So, I just want to know what this is." I hold up our joined hands. "Because it feels like there's something happening here. Like we're becoming something more, but we're afraid to just stand up and acknowledge it."

"Max, I…"

I don't let her finish. I've been holding all of this inside for way too long and I can't stop now.

"Because we always sit together at dinner and I always want to move my chair a little closer to yours. And we're always curled up together when we're watching a movie. And the way we talk sometimes, like we're pretending to flirt, but it doesn't always feel like we're pretending." I try to swallow, but my mouth has gone dry. "And I don't think my parents have noticed anything yet, but I feel like that isn't going to last and I'd really like to figure out what this is before they do."

I take a deep breath.

"And then there was that kiss. The one during the storm. The one I think about every time you smile at me. That kiss meant something, right? Something important."

Chloe doesn't say anything, but she has a cagey look in her eyes that makes my heart clench in fear. After a moment, she sighs. "I...I really thought that all this was...I mean, I figured you just wanted your best friend close by."

Oh, shit.

I read into things too much. I projected the whole thing like the stupid naive never-been-in-a-relationship dumbass that I am.

Embarrassed almost past the point of reason, I can't keep myself from looking away. "O-oh. I'm...I'm sorry. I just thought that we...it doesn't matter. I was wrong. I...yeah. I was wrong. We don't have to talk ab-"

"No, you aren't," Chloe interrupts softly.

I feel my breath catch. "I'm not?"

"No," she admits. When I don't interrupt her, she places a cautious hand on my knee. "What I meant is that I thought what we were doing was just a friends thing, because I was too scared to hope it was anything more. I feel something, too. I've actually felt it for a while."

"You...h-how long is a while?"

Chloe blushes, looking away shyly. "Just a while, okay?"

Oh, no. No way does she get to walk away from that one. Reaching out, I gently turn her face back toward me. "Chloe. It's okay."

I can see it in her eyes; the moment she realizes that I'm not going to let this go. "Since...and I didn't really figure it out until way later, but...kinda since before you moved to Seattle."

Whoa. "Seriously?"

She shrugs a little. I think she's trying to play it cool. If she is, she's doing a terrible job. "Like I said, I didn't really know what it meant at the time. I just knew that I liked the way you made me feel, like I was pretty and special. And how I'd find myself thinking about how nice your laugh was or get distracted by how shiny your hair looked in the sun. How I was always wondering if your lips were as soft as oh god I'm just gonna stop talking now."

Oh my god. Here I am obsessing over the last few weeks, and Chloe's liked me since we were fourteen? "I don't...why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want you to feel pressured, I guess? I mean, you didn't even know what this was and I was barely even willing to hope there might be a chance for you and me to be...y'know..." She gestures hesitantly between us.

"Do you? Still, I mean? Y'know?" I'm almost too embarrassed by that grammatical dumpster fire to notice her nod again, and my entire body seems to soften with relief. "Really?"

"I mean, I never assumed," she insists, letting out an unsteady breath. "I just...really hoped."

I feel myself break into a smile. "I did too. Hope, I mean." Looking at Chloe, I find nothing but happiness in her expression. "So, are you saying..."

"That I really wanna kiss you right now," Chloe says in a rush. "I mean, y'know, if that's cool."

Even coming from Chloe, I didn't expect a response quite that direct.

"Y-yeah. Awesome. I am totes cool with that," I say, silently berating myself for still sounding like an idiot and hoping it doesn't show on my face.

I find myself studying every curve and contour of Chloe's beautiful face as she turns back to face me. Lifting my hand from where it's been resting on her thigh (and when exactly did that happen?) I let my fingers brush lightly up and down her ribs, smiling at the delighted shiver it gives her and marveling at the warmth that seems to radiate from her body.

Her hand catches mine near her hip and our fingers lace together.

"Hey," she whispers, and even sitting down I have to tip my head back a little to look into those bright blue eyes.

I'm not totally sure what thought process leads me to say, "Why do you have to be so tall?"

She lets out a surprised bark of laughter, breaking the heated tension between us. "I dunno. Maybe you're just short?"

"I'm not short," I fire back, but I don't put any real heat behind the words. Then, hesitantly, I ask, "...do you really think I'm short?"

"No, I think you're perfect." Chloe smiles and a rush of heat seems to wash over me. Suddenly I'm lifting my face up to hers and she's leaning in and then her lips are there, soft and warm.

I have to resist the urge to pull her closer and deepen the kiss. Instead I keep it gentle, I don't push, and I try not to think too much. Even though I've known Chloe forever and it isn't really our first kiss, (technically, it's our third) I feel suddenly and intensely aware of my own body. For some reason, I can't decide what I should be doing with my hands. I really want to wrap my arms around Chloe and hold her close forever, but for now I settle for looping my arms around her neck. The moment we pull away, my hands slip back down to rest on her shoulders.

"Wow," Chloe whispers, grinning. "That was..."

"Really nice," I smile, screaming at myself for choosing quite possibly the worst word in the entire English language. Nice was a warm blanket on a chilly afternoon or sitting down at the end of a long day, but not a word I would ever use to describe kissing Chloe Elizabeth Price.

Really, Max? Really?

I look up at her face, and even though she doesn't look upset there's still a tinge of something that looks like disappointment in her eyes. It's just enough to send a quick bolt of fear through me that I might've just ruined an important moment. Her hands are still resting on my waist, though, and suddenly I realize that we're still scared. Not as scared as we we're before, but it's like we're afraid this new and amazing connection we have could end up broken if we don't handle it very carefully.

But if I've taken one lesson away from that week in Arcadia Bay, it was that life is short. The feelings that Chloe inspire in me are amazing and wonderful and actually a little overwhelming but I'm sure as hell not about to turn back now. I'm here and Chloe's here and if one of us has to leap off a cliff to make this happen, I'm more than ready to be the one to do it.

Taking Chloe's face with both hands, I pull her down and kiss her the way I've been daydreaming about for weeks. She lets out a small squeak that might be surprise, and I really really hope that I haven't just committed some obscure breach of first kiss (actually our fourth now, but who's counting) etiquette. My worry vanishes when Chloe pulls me closer, returning the kiss with an almost feverish enthusiasm.

This kiss isn't nice. It isn't pleasant or agreeable or any other stupidly boring word my mind might come up with. This kiss is like fire and desire and lightning and...and...I could try to come up with a better way to describe it but I honestly couldn't care less right now. A faraway part of my mind notes that Chloe's leg is bouncing excitedly. The faint and rapid thumping her heel makes against the carpet feels like it matches my own racing heart.

We pull away much too soon for my liking, and I let out a faint, breathy laugh. "Wow. That was..."

"Nice?" Chloe looks entirely too pleased with herself, but now her cocky grin just makes me want to kiss her some more. Especially when she reaches up to brush a lock of my hair behind one ear. Her hands are back on my waist a second later, pulling me closer, and a soft gasp escapes my throat as I curl my fingers into the fabric of her shirt.

"Well, y'know...i-it was okay," I respond shakily, because I'm an awkward spaz who feels so stupidly giddy right now that I barely know what to do with myself. Then I lean back to study Chloe's face and feel my smile falter just a bit. "This is real, right? You aren't going anywhere?"

Chloe shakes her head. "Don't worry, cutie," she whispers, pressing a wonderfully soft kiss to my forehead. "I'm staying right here."