A/N: Thanks so much to Silvereld for allowing me to use her wonderful Grahamfield piece as a cover for this story. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it! If you'd like to see more of her gorgeous art, you can check out her instagram under that name or her tumblr (silverfanart).
There's a strange feeling in my stomach, something between discomfort and pain. It makes me want to curl up and go back to sleep, but as I wrap my arms around myself they come across something soft and furry. My eyes shoot open and I look down to find a mass of orange fur molding my tummy with its paws. The creature is staring back at me, as if waiting for me to make my move, but continues with its task nevertheless.
I don't own a cat. Or the t-shirt this cat is clawing at. Or these boxers, for that matter. Actually, I've no idea where my clothes went, whose bed this is, whose room this is, what time it is, what day it is... Something tells me I should be freaking out. This is by far my weirdest wakening so far, even beating Wednesday night when I found myself sitting at my desk at 3 am. Again, I know I should be freaking out. But my nervous system has yet to catch up with all the information I'm getting.
I look down at the pink polish on my nails... Dana was painting them. Yes, it was Dana. We were smoking Justin's pot, we went to a party, and then... Nothing. A few flashes here and there of loud music, people bumping into me, and Justin's continuous laugh as a soundtrack for the whole outing. Brooke's face. She said something, what did she say? It made me really mad. And then... fade to black.
The cat has made it through the fabric and readies to attack me again, though I'm pretty sure the pain I was feeling comes from the inside.
"Hey, you." I attempt to say but the noise that comes from my throat is definitely not my voice, not even my morning voice. It's much deeper and sounds like something that would come out of an old cassette when your Walkman's batteries are low. So, I even remember what that sounds like, yet I can't recall for the life of me what happened last night. "What do they call you, little one?"
Yellow eyes beam back at me with curiosity, and they slowly grow wider as the cat walks on top of my body towards my face. But then it buries its little claws rather painfully on my right breast on its way.
"Shit!" I moan and roll on my side for the animal to fall on the mattress. "That hurt, you rude-ass cat!"
The cat just proceeds to rub itself against my arm, in hopes to come back to my good graces, but instead, I ignore it as I try to make out my surroundings. The room is quite dark, and the shutters on the window hide the time of day. I can tell by the light from the lamp above the door that the walls are painted a deep blue while the floor seems to be made of a grey or black carpet, the fluffy kind that must feel real nice to walk on barefoot. My eyes follow the lines where the carpet meets the wall and spies a peculiar skateboard propped up against a wooden desk. One of the wheels is missing and a wide gash that opens the wood of the board covers the end of the missing wheel. What's even more distracting is that this bed smells pleasantly familiar. I can't put my finger on it, but whatever it is, it makes me want to bury myself under the covers all warm and snug.
No matter how hard I try and force my mind to think of what happened last night, I can't go past ten minutes into the party, much less how I even ended up in this room. There must be carpeted floor outside too, because I don't hear him come before he opens the door, but the room is suddenly lit up.
He's wearing a pair of checked trousers and a white t-shirt, they look loose on him but not exactly new, so I'm guessing those are his pj's. The first thing that he looks at isn't me but the old skateboard across the room. He makes something like a half sigh half groan before he stuffs the skateboard into his wardrobe. It takes him two glances at me to realize I'm looking back at him.
"Oh, you're awake!" Warren says, his eyes gaining twice the size they had two seconds ago. I realize now he may be even sleepier than me.
"Yeah, I've just been woken up by Chatran here trying to gut me," my deep-from-the-underworld voice says.
I notice his eyes trail down and stop right below my neck and I realize I'm still holding my pained breast in my hand. I release it immediately and rest my body on my right elbow.
"She can be annoying at times." He blinks and opens the door a bit. "Penny, out."
"Penny?" I repeat, the name ringing in my ears as I watch the little orange thing jump out of the bed and trot out of the room. "As in, your questions-game-friend Penny?"
"Almost. She did name the cat after herself. I know, who does that, right?"
"Chloe," I say, almost immediately. "Chloe had a guinea pig named after herself, even though it was a male. It was a sickly little thing and she thought that would make it stronger, give them a connection of some sort, but it died at three months old."
"Bummer. It's the thought that counts at least." Warren closes the door and drags his feet across the carpet floor. It does look really soft. I can't wait to feel it myself. I wonder if it's like stepping on fresh sand, where the waves brush it just often enough for it to stay cool and smooth but without wetting your feet. I raise my eyes to find him scrutinizing me. "Are you alright there?"
"What? Why?"
"You keep staring at my feet."
"It's your carpet, it looks so... " The same little voice that told me I should be freaking out advices me against finishing that sentence. "Ok, I may feel a bit funny."
"You're still on it, aren't you?"
"On what?"
"On whatever it was you took."
"I... don't remember what I took. And... we're not in your room, are we? Why was there a cat?"
This time an honest laugh escapes Warren's mouth but then he stares at me curiously.
"Yes and no. We're not in the dorms." He sits on the edge of the bed, right where Penny was sitting minutes ago. "We're in my room... in my house."
"Shit. How did we get here?" I look around myself once more and then I look again at the t-shirt and boxers I'm wearing, this time a lot more warily. Now I may be freaking out a bit. My head is already replaying the first episode of Veronica Mars. "Wait. What happened to my clothes?"
"Well... You really don't remember?"
"Nothing at all."
"Oh. Well, that's..." He scratches his bottom lip, and a smile starts creeping into it. "That's hilarious."
"No, it's not." I sit up and cross my arms over my chest. His laugh annoys me but it's contagious all the same, so I'm sort of frowning and chuckling and snorting at the same time.
"Maybe I should fill you in when you're actually sober." He says when his laughter subsides.
"I'm perfectly sober." I insist, though I know it's a lie.
Warren raises his left eyebrow and leans forward, only stopping 5 inches away from my face.
"Your eyes look like they are some crossroads demon's," he says, tilting his head to the side to examine me. "I'll go get some eye drops."
"I said I'm fine," I complain, but nevertheless, he leaves the room paying no mind to what I say.
He hasn't been gone for a minute when little Penny peeks her head through the door and slowly makes her way back to the bed. Warren must have been spoiling her, this cat's way too comfortable making herself comfortable. Once she's reached my tummy, I give her a second chance and scratch her lower back, and she happily rubs her head against my navel. She's a bit startled when my stomach quivers as I giggle, but her whiskers are so ticklish I can't help myself.
Warren returns holding the little bottle and stares at our interaction.
"Getting along?" He sits on the same spot as before, and Penny immediately ditches me and goes after his hand.
"We were, before you came along," I say as I watch the furry traitor enjoy his attention.
"What can I say? She's got a soft spot for me." He hands me the bottle and uses his now free fingers to pet the cat.
As I sit up, everything around me shakes a bit more than it should. I set my back straight and remove the cap careful not to spill anything. I've never worn contacts in my life, so I've very rarely used eye drops. Come to think of it, I've probably never applied them myself. This is made evident by my incompetence to get the tear to fall in my eye instead of all over my face. I try to bring the tip closer to my eyeball but soon it's bumping into my eyelashes.
"What are you doing?" Warren stares, his look somewhere between amusement and impatience. "You're gonna gouge your eye out like that. Give it to me."
"Wait, I can do this." I only insist with two more failed attempts before giving in. I remember my hand shaking when Dana was trying to paint my nails yesterday, my overall slowness of thinking and my constant giggling, not so different from what I'm feeling right now. I'm even more convinced that Warren's right and I'm still 'on it', which makes me nervous in a way I'm not used to. He leans in once more, now he's even sticking his tongue out.
"Can you hold your bangs back?"
"Uhm... Okay." I hesitate before brushing my bangs up and holding them against my scalp with the palm of my right hand. The second I do it, his eyebrows shoot up. "What is it?"
"Nothing, it's just I'd never noticed you have such a massive forehead."
"Well, you have massive... Feet." I can't even see his feet, I feel stupid the moment I say it. Warren just laughs at me, and I feel his breath hits my face - it smells of coffee and dark chocolate.
"Look up," he says, since I keep staring at him, but when I do as I'm told, the bottle feels too close like it's gonna poke my eye, I flinch. "Hey, don't move."
The drop splats on my cheek again. Warren rolls his eyes and uses his left hand to anchor my face in place. As if this weren't embarrassing enough, my eyes keep blinking at their own will, and the drops keep bouncing on my eyelid and onto my cheek. Maybe it's whatever substance that is still in my body, but I start giggling in amusement, which makes it even harder for him as my head keeps shaking.
"Max Caulfield, hold still." He's trying to be serious, but he's also trying not to laugh.
The weirdest thing is that the way he's pronounced my name sends a current of blood racing to the skin he's touching. I'm really hoping he won't feel the heat. I look down and see he's not sticking his tongue out anymore, but his lips are slightly parted. I guess I haven't been this physically close to him since our kiss at the diner, and that's pretty much the look he had before it happened. And I've already told myself to stop thinking about things that happened in nonexistent timelines. Another drop falls on my eyelid and dribbles down into my hairline.
"Seriously, dude, look up!" Now he's laughing and I'm laughing and blushing so hard it's almost impossible to keep still.
His grip on my face grows suddenly tighter for a second and I freeze as he finally manages to drop the tear into my right eye.
"Good!" He sighs like a father who's finally taught his toddler to use the potty. "Now close your eye and roll it."
I do as I'm told and take in the refreshing feeling on my eyeball for a few seconds before opening my eyes. When I focus my eyesight again, I notice there's a darker shade of pink on Warren's cheeks.
"O-okay. Now the left one." He mumbles as his now shakier hand positions itself above my eye.
This time it only takes one failed attempt before I feel the cool drop fall in my eye and I close both of them. I move my eyeball and once again I enjoy the pleasant sensation keeping my eyes closed a little longer. It takes me a few seconds to realize Warren's still holding my face and I can still smell coffee and dark chocolate, meaning he hasn't moved. I open my eyes and see he's got that same look of concentration, as if he hasn't realized his work is already done.
"That's... much better" He nods slowly.
"Is it?" I ask, only because I dread silence being this close to him.
And then I feel sharp little claws burying in my stomach.
"Ow, fuck!" I groan. Warren chuckles and pulls away. "It's not funny, she's out to get me."
"That's actually her being friendly."
"Well, tell her that's not what I'm like with my friends."
"She's just misunderstood." Warren shakes his head and scratches Penny's neck. His eyes then turn back to me. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? I couldn't help but notice you're really hot. I mean warm. But actually hot. You know what I mean."
"Why don't you stop being Doctor Graham for a minute and go back to being just Warren Graham and fill me in with all the details about last night?"
"I'm serious, you could be feverish."
"I feel fine. Now tell me."
Warren scratches his scalp for a few seconds, then sighs.
"Fine. So... What's the last thing you remember?"
I whip my brain cells to force them to recall the events from last night.
"Justin and Trevor picked us up. Dana was super excited about this party. Then we got there and Brooke was there, exchanged some words I think. Then Dana forced me to dance... And that's pretty much it. "
"Wait. Are you sure you don't remember anything else?"
"Positive. I don't even remember seeing you there."
Warren sighs again, and breathes in deeply before speaking.
"Okay. You want the long version or the short one?"
"Long one. Don't skip any details."
"Okay then. So I was going for a quiet evening, you know? Trying to decide between Poker Night and Papers, please, but last time I'd played it, it'd turned out so fucking stressful because after Jorji shows up for the third time..."
"Maybe you can skip those details."
"Right, right. So I went for Poker Night, some good old Texas Hold'em. It's just so much better than with actual people. Sam is a pain in the ass, but I just love GLADos's voice, I mean, who wouldn't? It's the whole reason why..."
"Warren. The party."
"I'm getting there. Everything's relevant, you'll see." He says and I ready myself to hear what will most likely be the longest epic ever. "As I was saying, Texas Hold'em. I was on a winning streak, actually. Got rid of everyone at the table but that annoying little robot. Well, to be honest, he cleaned most of the house. He had like 80k and I was dwelling on my poor ass 20k. Then he went all in and I only had a king and a five of spades, but since I'm a sucker for cards of the same suit, I was about to go for it... but then I got this text from Dana - weird, I didn't even think she knew my name. I opened it and there was this picture... "
"Right. That I don't need to be reminded of." I sink a bit under the sheets, wishing I could rewind and prevent Dana from even taking it.
"I thought you looked... Good. You know, despite your shirt being inside out."
"What?! Ugh, Dana, why didn't she say something?"
"Because she was too high to notice? Anyway, I'm not that into parties but I thought, hey, why not? After that shit-ass Claptrap made off with all my chips, I had nothing to lose. So I showered and headed to the address Dana had texted me. Which was wrong, by the way. I didn't ring the doorbell or anything, but that place was dead as fuck. I drove around some more until I heard the lame music banging through the walls of a small house at the end of the street. There was no place to park, and most cars were just over the front yard, but I wouldn't leave my baby there, imagine if some... "
"Snoooore."
"Alright, alright. I eventually found a place like five streets away and I walked back. Like I said, lame music, loud drunks, I immediately regretted going. Most faces were just strangers but then I saw Luke and glued myself to him. I've never seen that guy so cheery, hell, I don't think I've ever even seen him smile. But he was all rambling about how the Prescotts are going down and that we should blow up Nathan's room. Okay, that last part I made it up but he did talk about trashing his stuff. I told him we should hang out. Then I spotted Justin and he looked absurdly happy too. Like an actual genuine grin, not just high-happy. He called Dana 'his muse' and I had to go through a very long lecture on why we should all praise her. Then she found us and before I got to talk to her they were already working on some serious saliva exchange so I let them be."
I'm starting to get a strange sort of feeling. It's not exactly a déjà vu, it's more like that time Chloe made me watch Fight Club, and when we were halfway through it I started thinking something was off with Brad Pitt and then I found myself citing the lines as the characters spoke. Not because I was super intuitive, but because I had already watched that film before. Twice. But only did I realize what film it was when I saw Bob's head all torn out. So right now I can picture the yellow walls, the loud music, Justin and Dana, it all sounds familiar once Warren actually mentions it, but I can't figure out what's going to happen next.
"The place was actually so small, I had to push my way through several of those slobbering couples and I somehow landed in the kitchen. At least I could actually breathe there, and I found Brooke. She was... Not in her best mood. I think she was trying to wash something off her glasses."
Oh fuck. The glasses are my Bob. Bits and pieces come back to me like an old ruined film.
Dana has her arm around my neck and she's leaning on me, complaining about her choice of shoes, but also bragging about how nice they look on her. Her purple dress is so tight it forces her to walk like a baby penguin so she uses me for support. I'm laughing at her and she hands me a cup of something that smells like petrol mixed with some strange fruit. Like hell I'm drinking that. I'm trying to balance Dana's weight and the cup I'm holding but it keeps spilling out and it's getting my hands all sticky and I want to give it back to her but then I feel something collide into my arm. I then realize that something is a person, and a great deal of whatever was in that cup flies off and lands on their face.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" I immediately say. The smell from the drink is now a lot stronger and I wrinkle my nose in disgust.
"You've got to be kidding me." Brooke looks at me up and down with her most disdainful bitch face.
"Oh Brooke, I didn't see you there."
"Sure you didn't." She takes off her sticky glasses and stares down at them, but she's squinting so hard I doubt she's actually able to see them. And here I thought they were just some hipster accessory. "Perfect. Just what I needed."
"I said I'm sorry, maybe I can... " I try to take her glasses but she steps back.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to dumb it down for you: Fuck off."
"Jeez, what's your problem?" It takes me much less than usual to grow tired of her bullshit.
"You really love acting all naive, right? Too bad Warren is not around to fall for your endearing damsel in distress act. "
"Hey, Warren's not here yet?" Dana asks, the tension between Brooke and I going over her head.
"He's not coming," Brooke answers, after giving her a major 'what is it to you' look.
"Sure he is, we invited him and he texted he's coming." Dana's still smiling and Brooke glances at me for a second and rolls her eyes.
"Of course." And just with that she walks away from us.
I remember telling Dana that Brooke and Victoria could be BFFs, and I remember her not hearing a thing because Katy Perry started playing, so she grabbed my arm and dragged me against my will into the dancing group. I remember us stomping our feet and waving our arms around in the most awkward moves that could not possibly be called dancing, like we were still in her bedroom on our own. Then Justin joined us, his fits of laughter more deafening than the music itself, and threw his signature "check out the Max" that made me cringe to the bone.
I should be happy about it. After all, it looks like it was the kind of night I wanted to enjoy. Except for the fact that I can only remember chunks of it. Something in my stomach growls and tightens, making me feel also physically uncomfortable.
"... and I tried talking to her, but, like I said, I guess she was just in a foul mood." I hear Warren say, though I didn't catch the first part.
"When is she not?" When Warren shrugs I realize I've said it out loud.
"She likes to pretend to be all tough, but she's really cool once you get to know her." Warren says but is cut short by Penny crying for more attention.
"She's one needy little thing, huh?" And I'm not sure myself whether I'm talking about the cat or Brooke.
"You've no idea." He chuckles. "But anyway, I left the kitchen and..."
"Wait," I stop him when I feel something twist inside my belly. "Before you go on, I really need to use the bathroom."
"You think you can stand up?"
"I can... Try." I hate that word.
I pull my legs from beneath the blankets and rest my feet on the carpet. It does feel amazingly soft. Warren offers me a hand to help me stand up, but I use mine to push myself up and manage to get on my feet. It does not last long though, and, in my search for some balance I end up grabbing his arm. His skin is so warm under my cold fingers. I need my tripped out brain to stop being stupid about it and focus on maintaining a good posture, but I keep thinking about how small my hand looks.
"Thanks," I mumble and move my hand to his shoulder for a better grip, and because there's actually a sleeve there to hang on to. Once again, my tongue moves before my brain can filter out my words. "When did you get so tall?"
"I got a really strong case of the hiccups." Warren laughs and rests his right hand behind my back, in case I fall backwards. "Okay, now, one foot at a time. Watch it there, take your time. There you go... Careful with the door frame sticking out there."
My eyes had already become accustomed to the darkness in the bedroom, so I squint at the sight of yellowish lights on the wall of the hallway. Luckily, the door I'm guessing leads to the bathroom is only a few feet away. I let go of Warren's shoulder and he gets inside and switches the light on for me. Now that light is almost blinding and I use my hand to shade my eyes.
"If you start hissing you'll be an actual vampire," Warren says as he walks out and stands by the door so I can get in.
The bathroom tiles feel cold as ice under my feet. I close the door behind me, still narrowing my eyes and balancing the weight of my body between the balls of my feet and my heels. There's a huge mirror taking over half of one of the four walls, but I avoid it at all costs and sit - or sort of fall - on the toilet. At least I'm wearing my own underwear under the boxers, but no bra. I should have noticed it was missing when my breast met those painfully sharp claws.
I stare at my surroundings from my seat. The blueish shower and sink give off this vintage vibe, like they're old but well-kept. Right next to the tap, there's a cup with three toothbrushes inside. It's cute that Warren's parents keep one in there for him. But the main character in the room is the shower curtain. It's got an outer space pattern that doesn't match the rest of the decoration at all, but it's got blues and purples and a galaxy and it's hella hypnotizing.
Hella.
There's a knock on the door and I realize I may be taking too long. I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and thankfully remember to pull my underwear and the boxer back up before opening the door. Good. My hand's already on the doorknob when I think I see something odd from the corner of my eye. I look back at the mirror and notice a dark red mark at the base of my neck.
"Fuck," I say louder than I intended to, and it echoes all around me. But there's no Bob moment, I don't get any flashbacks or any clue of where the hell it came from.
"Everything alright?" Warren asks from the outside. "You didn't fall asleep, did you?"
"What? No! I'm fine, I'm done." I try rubbing my thumb against it, in small hopes that it's just a little lipstick stain, but it won't come off. I wonder if Warren's seen it. I wonder if he knows how it got there. I wonder if...
"Then get your ass out here."
My rubbing has made it look even redder, and I so desperately want to ignore it. I open the tap again and splash water on my face in an attempt to do away with the smudged makeup that was making me look like a suicidal clown. Now my face looks just as red and maybe it's not as obvious as it was before.
I step outside once I've turned off the lights, and Warren doesn't seem to notice, but I avoid eye contact anyway. Fortunately, something else makes us both raise our heads in unison and share a knowing smile.
"Was that... your stomach, again?" He asks and I simply nod in return. "What kind of monstrous creature do you even keep in there? Keep it quiet or it'll wake up the whole house."
I'm about the jump in defense of my poor hungry guts but I freeze before I get the chance to mouth my response.
"Wait, who's sleeping? What time is it?" I'm now whispering in a rush, paranoia sinking deep within me.
Warren presses his lips together, holding back a mocking smile that I know he wants to pull so badly.
"I'm guessing it's around three in the morning, you only slept for like half an hour." He stares at his invisible watch on his wrist. "And my parents are sleeping but don't worry, they slept through my 'I want to be Travis Barker when I grow up' phase, they can sleep through that beast you have in there."
"Never took you for a punk drummer." I laugh, though still in a low voice.
"I'm a man of many talents... though drumming is not one of them. It was a short-lived phase." His eyes journey down to my feet. "Wait here, I'll get you some slippers and we can go savage the kitchen."
My feet are still cold from the bathroom tiles, so I won't argue with that. Only once Warren has left I notice the flight of stairs leading to a ground floor, so I'm guessing the last door on the other end of this hallway would be his parents' room. I step away from it as far as I can and almost bump into Warren when he's back with a pair of old grey slippers.
"Sorry, I took the nice-looking pair to Blackwell," he says as he lays them on the floor next to my feet.
"They'll do fine." I walk into them and stare down at the stairs curiously. My balance has gotten a bit better, but they still look like quite a challenge. "This should be fun."
Gripping the railing tightly, I make my way down the first few steps, while Warren walks in front of me just in case I fall over. The splashing of water on my face has given me some well-needed waking up and I succeed in reaching the last step without losing my balance once. I now feel more self-assured, and Warren can tell because he just goes through the first door on the right, waiting for me to follow without offering extra support.
There's an island counter in the middle of the small kitchen and I waste no time in sitting on the first stool I find, because, even if did walk down those stairs by myself, it was fucking exhausting. The same vibe I got from the bathroom is present in this room, in its light green wooden counters, in its retro-looking fridge. It's like it's a nice grandma's house in the countryside, and in the daytime the kitchen will be filled with the smell of freshly-baked pie. Warren is already looking into the fridge, and when he smiles at me over his shoulder, I give him a thumb up. He takes out a half-full casserole and when he closes the door, I notice it's filled with so many pictures it's hard to tell its original color. I lean forward and squint my eyes. One picture of a chubby kid grabs my attention.
"Is that you with the little dinosaur?" I ask, now noticing the Ninja Turtles tee under his overall. Born and raised a geek.
"Yeah..." Warren wrinkles his nose a bit. "But that's no dinosaur, that's Godzilla."
There are many pictures of him, though they don't look like your average scrapbook photos. A lot of thought was put into their composition and framing, using different lighting techniques and unusual angles.
"Who took all of these?"
"My mom, most of them." Warren glances at the fridge and my stomach growls again when I hear the beep of the microwave. "She's got a good eye for photography, whereas I... I got my dad's eyes. You can tell that by all the blurred, poorly lit images. Don't know why she even put them up there."
I slowly start picking out the pictures he's speaking of, the big majority of them depict toys posed in the middle of a battle. I giggle at the one where Warren's proudly holding Battle Cat. No, that's not Warren, that boy has darker hair. I lean a bit closer, the stool leaning with me under my weight and then both my seat and I drop violently to the floor.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," I quickly say as I get up, not giving Warren time to worry, but when I settle myself back on the stool, I find he's laughing and shaking his head rather than looking concerned. He hands me a dish of macaroni, meat and some other things that smell like I imagine ambrosia would smell, and leans on the counter to eat his. "Thanks... Was I this bad when we came here?"
"Nope, it was much worse." He shifts and turns his fork over a piece of bacon before taking a bite. "I don't mean to sound like your mom here, but... You really think that was wise with everything that's been going on here?"
"No." I try a piece of macaroni and its taste overcomes my expectations. "But since you're not my mom, we don't need to have this conversation."
"I'm just saying... "
"I know. But it's easier for you. I know I sound like such a cliché, but I just wanted to act like I don't care. But you... you don't care. You're much braver than... Oh, shit! How didn't I think of it before? You're perfect!"
"I... Don't know how you got there, but I kinda like where this is going." Warren proudly straightens his back and raises his chest.
"You'd be the perfect subject for my assignment."
"'Shoot the geek'?" He asks, his mouth full of macaroni.
"Almost. I should shoot two sides of someone, their usual cover and their true self."
"A Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde kind of thing?"
"Pretty much. It'd be easy with you 'cause you're so transparent, but... I've kind of already told Dana I'd use her."
"Oh, so you do all this sweet-talking just to tell me you've already chosen the cheerleader over me?" A hand flies dramatically to his chest, as his heart's just been broken.
"You'll get over it, I'm sure."
There's a long moment of silence that I take as plain enjoyment of the food, though halfway through my dish I realize Warren is not devouring it as enthusiastically as I am. That's probably because I was feeling hungrier than a Pac-Man, but even now that my stomach has settled, my eating rhythm doubles his. Warren only picks each bite after thorough deliberation, which makes the process excruciatingly slow. He realizes I'm staring and looks back at me, so I go back to my own food.
"I'm guessing this assignment is from the teacher who's replacing Mr. Jefferson?" He asks while I toy with a half-melted piece of cheese.
"More like a punishment for me failing to participate in his stupid contest," I say and stab the small yellow piece along with a chunk of meat that I take to my mouth. "I still need one more shot from Dana, though."
"You guys sure did take a bunch of selfies together." Warren takes something out of the pocket of his pajamas and hands it to me. "I managed to save this one from your jeans."
I put my fork down and take the picture from him. Justin is the one who took it, with Dana standing to his left, her right arm wrapped around his neck, and her left arm wrapped around me. She's sticking her tongue out, Justin looks like he's screaming and I'm laughing and holding my hand up high. Someone else was supposed to be in the shot at my left, but only an arm is visible. It's funny, we look like a fun group of friends, a group any Wendy's girl would be a part of. And still, I can't help but think I do not belong in that picture, like I was photoshopped into it but anyone could tell it's a cheap manipulation. I blink and think back to what Warren's just said.
"Why did it need saving from my jeans?"
"Ah, I'm getting there. Where was I?" He drags a chair close to me and sits in what could only be described as 'an old man telling children stories' pose.
"You were in the kitchen." I avoid mentioning Brooke this time.
"Right, well, we didn't really meet right away. I even talked to Daniel there, who would have thought? He told me he's working on a new style, experimenting with portraits..."
The more he strays from the point, the more I'm certain he's purposely trying to avoid getting to it. It takes him a while, but he eventually takes notice of my bored face, and cuts his ramble short.
"And then Dana spotted me, and she looked so damn happy to see me." He says while scratching his chin. "I think she even went 'thank God you're here'"
"Are you making stuff up again?" I narrow my eyes at him, but he just shrugs.
"You'd think that, but no. I was just as surprised by her reaction as you are. She dragged me to this quiet corner and said she needed help getting you out of the closet. I thought she was metaphorically proclaiming her crush on you, but she took me to some room upstairs where you had literally locked yourself up inside a closet. Does any of this sound familiar at all?"
"Uhm... I'm not sure," I mumble as I'm trying to picture it, but there's no Bob moment.
"She said you guys had all taken something, but you were the only one to have gone... well, a bit mental."
"Define 'a bit mental'."
"You were yelling at anyone who tried to open the door of the closet. And it was scary. You did calm down a bit when I got there. We talked for a bit about Chaos Theory and that seemed to soothe you."
"Why Chaos Theory?"
"That's what you were going on about. Never knew drugs could turn you that philosophical, maybe I should try them."
The memory is somewhere in my head, all scratched and out of tune, but still there. The closet is small and dark, and somehow that gives away a comforting vibe. It's not completely closed, though, there's a thin ray of orange light coming from the three inches that are currently separating the door from the frame. I can see Warren sitting on the floor on the other side, or at least his knee and a foot that I'm guessing are his. He's saying something I can't really hear, and I see myself like I'm watching a movie, like I'm not even in my own body, and that girl is hugging her knees to her chest.
"It's Chaos Theory, Warren," the scared little Max says. "You were right. Cause and effect. And the cause is me. I did it, I killed everyone. Beginning with Kate... oh, poor sweet Kate."
For a moment, there is only the music from downstairs to break the silence before he speaks.
"Whatever you did, I'm sure you didn't mean to. Chaos Theory doesn't really work that way. Yes, for every action there's a reaction, but the reason why it's about chaos is because it's out of our control. Chaos is about chance, about randomness." The door opens a few more inches and I can actually see his face. "We can talk more about it if you come out and..."
He's wearing a plain white t-shirt, I'm guessing the same one he wore at the 'End of the World' party that never happened last week. Scared little Max seems to notice this too, she lets go of her knees and crawls closer to the light, knocking down a few shoes on her way.
"Oh, Warren, the picture! Did you bring the picture?"
"Uhm... the one you sent me? Yeah, I've..."
"No, no, the one... the one..." She trails off and seems to even forget what she was saying. "It's useless. All of it. It'll always take me back to the dark room. All roads lead back to him."
"...to who?"
"Fuck, and I've killed you too. It's horrible. Oh God."
I overhear another voice, barely audible, that sighs.
"She's just acting like a really depressed drunk. I should have known, Juliet went through the same thing last time she and Zach broke up, and she, like, drank herself to madness". I know it's Dana and there's certain unease in her voice.
Warren turns his head to look at her, and I cannot see the face he makes but I can imagine the '...seriously?' all over it. He then smiles back to me, the kind of smile you give to a dog while trying to take your sock from its mouth.
"Sounds like you're undertaking quite the guilt trip, but seeing as I'm speaking to you here, I'm pretty sure you did not in fact kill me."
"Well, not the 'you' you, but...the other you..."
I can remember the senseless talk going on for a good while, and I'm surprised neither Dana nor Warren smacked me out of it, just thinking of it drains all the patience out of my body. I should add 'babbling like a useless baby' to the list of reasons why I should never again 'drink myself to madness', as Dana put it.
However, Warren makes no mention of any of this. He rambles a bit more about how he found out in that moment that we were in Hayden Jones's bedroom, and how he was the only one in the Vortex Club squad he actually endured. And how he decorated his walls with 'dope BLUR' posters. And how he had an excellent taste in curtains. By that point, I've finished eating and I need to stop him.
"So Chaos Theory, huh? Did I happen to mention Global Warming, too?" I say, and manage to get a half-smile out of him.
"Oh yes. But then you moved on to darker stuff. Reptilians and all that." He replies, matter-of-factly.
"I'm guessing that was right before discussing Paul McCartney's alleged death?"
"And let's not forget Avril Lavigne's." Warren takes a hand to the left side of his chest, then uses it to pick up both our dishes and leaves them on the dishwasher.
"So... how long before I started plotting to blow the house up?"
"About five minutes. I'm good with bombs, so we managed to set it off with everyone still inside. Luke helped, by the way. One hell of a bloody business that was. No need to worry about the cops, though. We left no tracks, even burnt our fingerprints, just to make sure nobody could identify us. It was your idea."
"Once again, you've officially taken this way too far. Though I've always dreamt of being a pyro."
We chuckle at the silliness of it all and I realize my head isn't throbbing at the shakes of laughter anymore, nor do my limbs feel that heavy and sluggish. That casserole really brought my mind and body back to life. By now I'm positive I won't get all the answers from Warren, at least not today, but I'm not sure I want them right now. There's one detail I can't let him get away with though.
"Okay, seriously. Whatever happened to my clothes?"
"Oh, that." He puts the rest of the casserole back into the fridge and sits down. "Well, eventually you got out, and after a while, Dana wanted to take you back to Blackwell. I told her getting back there in the middle of the night with you in that state was not the smartest thing to do. Not to mention she was not a perfect example of sobriety herself. So, Dana agreed that I take you home. My home. With the condition that I let her know how you are. I was surprised, she's not like Victoria and that crowd, she actually cares. Actually, I should text her."
He begins to stand up, but I grab the hand he's set on the table to hold him back. There's no way I'll let him do an interval now.
"Don't worry, I'll text her in a second. Go on." Warren glances at our meeting hands for a moment. I let go of him once he's back on his seat.
"Okay. So..." Warren stretches his back and looks less willing to retell this part by the second. "We got here. Getting you upstairs was... Troublesome, but we managed. Then I showed you the bedroom."
I'm sure he's making a pause here just to annoy me, but I try to keep it cool.
"You weren't so keen on the idea of going to bed, but I thought you'd better sleep it off. Still, you refused and started walking backwards, then you reached the hall and tripped on your own feet and fell on your butt."
"Awesome." I can feel the hot blood rapidly spreading through the vessels in my face.
"And then you said you were feeling sick."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes. So I searched for the first basket I could find and handed it to you. But I didn't realize it was actually an empty pot from the last fern I killed."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes. So you know how some pots have holes in the bottom to drain the water out?"
"Oh no."
"Oh yes. You had one hell of a puke bath."
"Now that must have been fucking attractive. I think you've officially seen me sick more times than my own mom."
"Not to worry. Even your puke looks cute." Immediately after he says this, he makes the same confused face I'm probably making. "And I should not have said that."
"So, where did my clothes go?"
"Actually, after you let it all out, you immediately started... stripping." Warren looks away as his cheeks gain a crimson tone, though probably not as tomato as my whole face must look right now. "I swear if I hadn't stopped you, you would be naked in no time. But I did stop you, you know, against my better judgment. "
"That's good to know." I can't look him in the eye right now. Instead, I focus on an old wine stain on the table, right next to his elbow.
"Oh and I didn't have any girl's clothes to lend you, sorry. My mom bought me those boxers while I was at Blackwell so I gave you those, but they're new, I swear. "
"That's okay." I chuckle, though I find it hard to force my lips into a smile. Warren notices it and hurries to go on.
"I swear I didn't look, I left you in my room so you could change, but I didn't..."
"It's not that." I don't even know why my throat has chosen this instant to give birth to an annoying lump that is threatening to break my voice at any moment. "I just hate playing the part of the damsel in distress."
And I hate myself for using Brooke's words.
"Max, you were covered in vomit, you were hardly a damsel."
"Thank you, Warren," I say ironically, but he's actually made me pull an earnest smile.
"Don't look so grim, you look like you had fun after all. Before all the closet and puke stuff," he says and his eyes trail down to my neck.
Fuck. I lean forward and rest my chin on my hand, hoping the rest of my arm will cover the spot where I think that red thing is. There's no way I'm asking him about it. Not directly, at least.
"And did you have fun?" I ask while I brush my bangs out of my eyes.
"I... Yeah, it wasn't that bad." He shrugs and I'm trying so hard to read his body language but I'm not getting anything at all. "Overall, there was a nice, chipper vibe, which was different. I think it would have done Kate some good, too bad she wasn't there."
"Kate?" I repeat, my eyebrows rising at their own will. I can hardly imagine her having a good time at one of those parties after what happened the last time.
"I know what you're thinking, but even if it was Hayden's house, none of those jerks were there. And I think she needs a night off, to lift her spirits."
"What do you mean? She's been nothing but smiles!" I sound a bit more intense than I mean to, because I'm mad. Kate is alive and is well, and I somewhat refuse to hear otherwise.
"Exactly. Every time we've spoken this week, she's been wearing this tough and happy mask, like she's got it all under control. But I can see what's up, she's just playing a part for everyone else." Warren furrows his brows, brings his index finger to massage the point between them, then goes back to his usual smile. "But she's doing her best. We all are."
"I guess we are." I sigh and try to read him again, only to fail again. "You're awfully good at noticing things."
"I'm good at the observing part. The hands-on part, not so much."
"You're much better than you think. I don't think Dana could have gotten me out of that closet."
"Right. Now, thanks to me, you can both enjoy your love for each other freely."
We both laugh at this and my thoughts go back to that text I was supposed to write to her. There's a flower-shaped clock on the wall behind him that marks ten past four, and Warren seems to read my mind, because he gets up before I get to suggest leaving.
"We should head back to Blackwell." He says while ripping a page from the small notebook that is lying on the counter next to an expensive-looking teapot. Something I'd definitely find in a countryside grandma's house.
He then takes a black pen from inside the notebook and writes three lines.
"Hi mom.
That casserole was awesome.
WG"
"That's it?" I chuckle at it as he puts it up on the fridge with a watermelon-shaped magnet. "No more information, no 'thank you', no love?"
Warren shrugs and adds a 'love,' before his initials. I roll my eyes and follow him upstairs to his room. He doesn't turn on the lights, which I find odd, and decide to wait by the door. There's an old Thundercats poster on top of the bed that I hadn't noticed, but that's pretty much all I get to discern in the darkness. I'm staring at it and barely notice when Warren hands me a purse I recognize as the one Dana lent me for the night. The only content I find inside there is my camera and my phone, which, of course, is dead. Warren leaves to the bathroom for a moment to change back to his clothes in record-time, and when he's back, he hands me a grey bomber jacket and a pair of sneakers.
"Only your sneakers survived your puke bath, and you'll freeze if you go out like that." He looks up and down at me meaningfully, though his eyes linger a bit at the lower part.
"You don't happen to have any pants, do you?" I self-consciously cross my legs, as if I've just realized I'm wearing nothing but his boxers there.
"Uhh... No, I took them all to Blackwell." He says and then blinks, as if a little bulb has just lit up on top of his head. "I could give you the ones I was wearing, my pajamas. Or the ones I'm wearing now."
"No. No, thanks. No, I'll be fine with the jacket." I shake my head as I take it from his hands and hurry to put it on. From the moment I thrust my fist through the armhole I can already tell this thing will look huge on me.
"Okay, one 'no' would have been..." Warren pauses when I finish zipping the jacket up. "... enough."
"I look ridiculous, don't I?" I say and raise my hand, letting the extra bit of the sleeve just hanging. I feel like Fievel.
"No, yeah, no, you look... ridiculous." He nods and blinks at least five times in a second. "Shall we?"
The sun is still asleep when we park at Blackwell, the campus only lit up by the lamp posts and the fireflies circling around them. It's a clear night, but the air feels thick and sticky, as if the weather hasn't made up its mind on whether this should be a rainy morning or not. I'm glad David is nowhere to be seen, and we can stroll calmly back to the building without the Big Brother watching us. By now, I feel mostly regular, maybe just a bit too worn-out. The only actual physical discomfort that's bothering me is that soft breeze that keeps brushing my bare legs and making my knees quake uncomfortably. Plus, Warren's given me my puked jeans and Dana's top in a bag that I'm too lazy to hold properly and I feel it hit my calves now and again.
We walk through the main door and stand there in silence for a moment, not quite willing to go back to our respective dorms.
"Quite a wild night, huh?" I say just to cut through the silence.
"Sure." Warren smiles to his right side. "We should do it again sometime. But next time, I'll be the one to get super wasted and you can give me a piggy ride."
"You gave me a piggy ride?"
"Yeah, well, like I said, I'd parked a few minutes away and you weren't quite fit to walk."
I chuckle and we continue to quietly look at each other for a moment. Warren has this sullen expression on his face, but that may be just tiredness. I usually can't hold a stare for this long, but the fact that he won't look away keeps me from doing it too. My breathing may have got a bit heavier, too, because I suddenly sense the not-so-nice smell that comes from the bag I'm holding.
And the moment's gone.
"Thank you... for everything. You should go get some sleep," I say to him and Warren nods.
"Yeah... you too." He walks over to the door and pulls it open. "Goodnight, Max."
"Goodnight, Warren." My eyes don't leave him until he turns around the corner at the end of the hallway and disappears.
I'm standing there just staring at the empty hall when someone calls me from the staircase, making me jump.
"Hi Max, I thought I heard you." Dana is peeping her head with a light smile. "Scared you, didn't I."
"You surprised me. And you have exceptional hearing," I say in a low voice as I walk up the stairs and into our hallway, I'm not interested in anyone else seeing me dressed like this. Dana is barefoot and wearing nothing but her tank top and panties, so I'm guessing she's just got out of bed.
"I was awake already, and Warren texted me you guys were coming, so I was waiting," she replies and we stop by her door. Then she stares down to the bag I'm holding. "What is that awful smell?"
"That's the contents of my stomach in there." I sigh and she twists her nose even more.
"Ew. How are you feeling now?"
"Better, I guess. Though I think I'll just go straight into suspended animation till Monday."
"Can't blame you. No one will be going to class today anyway." Dana shrugs. "Wanna come in for a bit?"
I want to say no, I really feel the urge to bury my face in my pillow for at least ten hours straight, but there's something in her eyes that tells me she could use some company.
"Okay." I nod and leave the stinky bag on the floor outside next to the door.
I walk behind her and then notice a naked back and a blond head on her bed. Have these things always happened around Blackwell and I've never noticed? I shoot Dana a look and she shakes her head.
"Don't worry about him, Justin's a heavy sleeper." She sits on her couch and throws the stuffed spiders lying next to her to the floor to make room for me. As I walk over to her, I feel her staring at me. "Is that Warren's? You look really hot in it."
"Yeah, right." I roll my eyes and sit by her side, but I miscalculate the distance and end up falling on it not so graciously.
"Don't be modest, you totally owned the night. All the hot guys were asking me about you. Your social media must be blowing up."
"That's so embarrassing." I unconsciously brush my face with my palm. "But my phone died, so I wouldn't know."
"Oh, please." Dana takes out her own smartphone and shows me a selfie she uploaded of us both. "Check us out. Over a hundred likes in one night, baby!"
This image is way different from the polaroid I had. There are only two girls in this picture, and both look stunningly beautiful. This wouldn't surprise me from Dana, but when I look at myself, I feel like I'm looking at someone else, someone I would feel jealous of. My wretched freckles are still there but they aren't as prominent, my lips don't seem so bland and dry and she fixed my drowsy raccoon eyes... They also seemed to have this new, piercing quality about them that I can't quite put my finger on. It reminds me of Warren's digital work on my photo, how it seemed so alien yet so beautiful at same time, a sort of surreal idealistic version of myself.
"Wowser." It's about all I can muster staring at it.
"Don't drown, Narcissus." Dana giggles as she puts her phone away. I'm kind of surprised that she knows who that is.
"You actually did an amazing job on my makeup. How did you manage to do it high as a kite?"
"It's about only thing I can do right, really." Dana exhales from her nose as her gaze shifts towards the side. The breeze squeezes through the slit of the open window pushing specks of dust around her, with the soft light from her table lamp resting delicately on her face. I see a perfect op, I instinctively grab my camera and snap a picture. I had almost forgotten about my assignment. A grin widens on my face, this was exactly what I was looking for. She looks over as I flap the polaroid.
"Oh, lemme see!" Dana jerks out her hand and ninjas the picture from me mid-flap.
She blinks at the image for a moment, it's hard to tell if she's pleased or disappointed though she looks absorbed and thoughtful. She finally nods and gives a slight hum of approval.
"This is nice... I like this." Dana says rather languidly, she sighs deeply. "Make-up and posing for pictures... it's all I seem to be good for."
"You're not true." The words seem to fall out of my mouth out as I steal back the photo and slip it into my loyal satchel.
"What?"
"I mean, that's not true... You know... what you just said." I let out the long yawn that I've been trying to hold back.
"You need some serious sleep." Dana laughs and shakes her head.
"I know, but for real, you're good for many things, and more importantly, you're a good person. My memory is quite shitty, but Warren told me you stayed with me all night, even though it was a party and you could have been having fun."
"That was no big deal, we went there together, and I wasn't about to bail out on you. Besides, you were a lot of fun, speaking nonsense. Kind of like those viral kids under anesthesia." She attempts a smirk, but it's somewhat weak and fades fast. It reminds me of what Warren said about Kate's smiles.
"You okay, Dana?"
"Yeah, it's just... it's been a long night." She sighs and leans her head to the side, pointing to the naked Justin on her bed. "We had a bit of a fight... and then some make-up sex. But it's still a fight, and I'm no good at that."
"You guys look good together. I'm sure you'll work it out." I smile at her but the words feel lame and cheesy.
"It's just..." She keeps giving me that look, like she's afraid to speak.
"You don't have to tell me... but I'm a good listener."
"Justin..." Dana lowers her voice and looks at him from the corner of her eye. "When he gets really drunk, he won't stop talking about Chloe." I sit in silence. I wasn't expecting anything remotely related to her. "I know he sort of had a crush on her, and I know it's hard, but... I feel like I'm the rebound girl, you know? Always the second-best."
Not sure what to say for a moment, I try to put myself in her shoes. I think objectively of the way she's feeling, but now I remember I actually called her 'Chloe' when we were together yesterday. I'm such an ass.
"Look, I know for a fact that Justin is really into you. He probably misses her, but... He likes you and he cares for you."
"I know... I think. But there's some stuff he doesn't know about me and... I don't know if I'm ready to share it yet, but it also feels like I'm pushing him away by not telling him, you know?"
I immediately flashback to that talk we never had two Mondays ago, our first meaningful talk that made me care about her more than I thought I would. There's something heartbreaking about seeing a girl like Dana being miserable. It should be against the laws of nature for people who are that joyful at all times to be brought down. The need to cheer her up is now stronger than my insecurities.
"Just let him know you need some time, and when you're ready to tell him, you will. I'm sure he'll understand." I say, this time with more confidence. "You don't need to rush it, but don't feel the need to hide it either."
"It sounds so easy when you say it." She finally gives me something that looks more like a true smile. "I'm glad we hung out together. You were a total Wendy's girl, whatever that means."
"Yeah, too bad I can't remember most of it. I've only got some random memories and those selfies. Oh, and this stupid mark on my neck."
Dana's eyes dart up in a split second.
"Wait. You don't remember how you got that either?" There's certain excitement in her voice, like she's really amused by the whole thing. "Awn, Trev will be crushed."
"...Trevor?"
"Oh yeah. Even after you left, he kept going on and on about you all night. I think he's in love."
"So... I made out with Trevor?" I say, still quite not grasping it.
"Wow, you really don't remember." Her face gets more serious, but not losing the new-found amusement yet. "You said you were into skater boys, he said you looked hot, and bang! A match made in heaven."
'Heaven' is not the word I'd choose.
"Was this before or after the closet thing?" I ask and she narrows her eyes in thought for a moment.
"Way before. Around the time Warren got to the party."
"Wait, so... he... saw it. He saw us?"
"Yeah... That was awkward. And his friend Brooke didn't help."
So many times I've heard people describe heavy news as a slap in the face, but only now do I entirely grasp the meaning of that phrase. The furious blush doesn't take its time rushing to every inch of my skin. I actually wish I could get a Bob moment right now, because my imagination can take me to the darkest places in no time, but my brain seems to have ran out of battery.
Seeing my reaction, Dana finally turns full-on serious.
"I'm guessing he didn't tell you about any of this."
"No." I bite my lower lip in anger. "No, I... I should be going to bed."
Dana hesitates but then smiles sympathetically and walks me to the door.
"If you need to talk, I'm here." She adds before I leave. "And let me know how it goes with that project of yours, okay?"
"Of course. Thanks again for posing. And for everything, I had a really good time."
"Me too. Goodnight, Max."
"Goodnight."
I pick up my stinky bag on the way to my room and drop it on the opposite corner, right next to Lisa. She won't mind. I then let myself fall on my bed and sigh deeply. While inhaling I can sense this jacket smells like Warren, so I unzip it immediately and toss it to the floor in a childish tantrum. And then I realize I'm still wearing his clothes. I'm not content until I'm fully naked, and then I climb under the sheets. The Captain's disapproving stare is also burning on me, so I decide he needs to spend the night on the floor too.
All in all, I'm not sure who I'm mad at exactly, but I don't want to know. And this is the state I hate the most. I don't want to think about anything, and my mind keeps opening imaginary tabs with things that make me huff and toss and turn to no end.
Stop it.
Stop thinking.
Go somewhere else.
Go with her.
A/N: I think so far this is the chapter I've enjoyed writing the most! I could shower you with excuses about why it took this long to finish it - and believe me, I've got some good ones - but hopefully you'll trust me that I'm doing my best and I never forget about this story or you guys.
I need to take some time to express how much I appreciate your reviews. More often than not I go through 'who will even like this' phases that block me from writing and just reading your comments, getting a new "I NEED MORE" message helps so much xD So thank you to each and every one of you for your reviews and messages!
First of all, I need to thank KameXI, my new writing buddy/editor/extra ideas guy. This chapter would not be here today if you hadn't messaged me, kept me on track, discussed ideas with me and worked your magic over my wonky stuff. Thank you so much for keeping the hype alive and for not going all 'woah, this chick is crazy' over my random rambles.
Marcus: You should see the face I make when I read your reviews. Actually, you shouldn't, it's not pretty, but there are hearts all over my eyes.
pointeshoes17: I love the fact that you mentioned chapter 1, I think it's the one I'm the most unsure of! And I totally agree with you, Max does know about Warren's feelings. She's always known. Remember how in chapter 1 Dana brings it up and she's all "Yeah, I get it", blushing and trying to change the subject. And then in chapter 3 she finds that picture of them Warren has in his locker and she still asks herself WHY *facepalm*. I've always believed she's in complete denial, with that and many other things that she doesn't really want to face, so she just pretends they aren't there for as long as she can. But that's my take on it.
So, Part 10 is a Chloe dream sequence which I've already written out, though I'm not sure when to upload it. Maybe in a week? Maybe more? What do you guys think?
Again, thank you all for being patient and for keeping me inspired. You're awesome.
PS: Are you excited about Before the storm? I'm absolutely terrified to play it! I'm trying to keep my expectations low, I don't want to be let down. But at the same time, I'm dying to meet Rachel!