Not sure how long this story's going to be, but I'm averaging a chapter a day, so it should be done soon
I do not own Life is Strange nor any of its Affiliates
Chloe ran a hand through her messy blue hair, replacing the beanie on her nodding head. The light through the window of her truck seemed refracted to Max, the evening sun glinting gold across the dashboard and passenger seat as they passed tree after tree after tree. She couldn't identify the singer, and she wasn't overly fond of the song, but radio rights rested with Chloe, the driver, who seemed to be enjoying herself.
"Yo, I've got something to show you once we get up to the lighthouse," Chloe said, a small grin on her face as she tugged at her beanie again. "I swear I've got fleas or something, I'm mad itchy today," she trailed off, scratching at her scalp with the tips of her blue nails. Max wasn't feeling too talkative, but spoke up regardless.
"Don't give them to me," she joked, "Aren't fleas contagious?"
"Insects aren't contagious Max," Chloe replied, smiling.
"You know what I mean, loser. It's how the plague was spread. I swear, if you give me the plague I'm going to kill you," Max laughed,
"Not before the plague does."
A minute later they arrived at the long, winding trail that led to the lighthouse proper. Parking the truck by the side of the road, both girls exited and stretched their legs. Chloe raised her arms above her head with a quiet, "I'm exhausted," and began to make her way up the dirt path, Max following close behind. Tall pine trees loomed above them, adding their shadows to those cast by the dying day's light. A perfumed breeze brought earthy scents that mingled with the aroma of the coastline's salt.
A few moments later, they arrived at the bench, the lighthouse beside it standing tall and, Max pondered, a bit ominous. It was a fitting parallel to herself in a way: something meant to warn, to keep safe. She was drawn from her thoughts by Chloe, who had sat down on the bench with a small sigh.
"Take a seat Mad Max, and check it out," Chloe said as Max obliged, sitting beside the older girl. She withdrew a large red vaporizer from her bag, holding it up for Max's inspection. "I've named it Iron Man's Dick." Max couldn't help but laugh, taking it from Chloe's hand and pressing the small button on its shaft; she drew from its tip, leasing a thick milk cloud of white smoke that dissipated in the warm evening air. Fighting to not cough, she instead said:
"I can't pin down the flavor? What kind of juice did you get?"
"It's called thug juice, a combination of grape, watermelon, and… Max, what the fuck is that?" Chloe suddenly exclaimed, and Max looked left and right, attempting to find just what it was she was referring to. Without warning, Chloe took Max's chin and turned it with more than a little force, baring her neck. "Oh my god, I can't fucking believe my eyes. Does Maxine Caulfield have a hickey!?"
Max had done all she realistically could to cover said hickey; she had heavily applied a light beige concealer, but if the shocked look on Chloe's face was anything to go by, it hadn't been nearly enough. The punk girl's jaw hung open, her eyes wide with disbelief. She pulled down her beanie over her forehead, half groaning, half laughing.
"Please don't tell me Warren did this to you," Chloe pleaded, lifting her beanie.
"It wasn't Warren."
"Was it one of those Vortex Club jerk-offs?"
"Not exactly."
"Was it someone I know?" Chloe asked, but Max shook her head and refused to answer. "So it's somebody I know. I can't believe this, I refuse to believe this," Chloe laughed, but it sounded weak and disheartened. "You have to tell me. We're best friends, it's practically law."
"You have to promise not to freak out," Max began, biting her lip. She stared off into the distance, at the faraway town and dock, its boats dipping in the waves. It was a beautiful day to die, Max thought, as she finally said, "Victoria gave it to me."
The birdsong stopped, the clouds halted in place, the wind died down, and everything was very, very still. Max didn't dare look at Chloe's expression, but if she had she would've seen a mix of surprise, horror, and hurt. A moment passed sheepishly by; then another, and another, all in tense noiselessness. At long last, Chloe exhaled, sounding sad and resigned.
"Listen, we can talk about this later," she said, "Right now I think it's way more important to get you properly covered up. You're coming back to my place."
The car ride to Chloe's house was made in silence. As they passed through Arcadia Bay, Max was frightened of the inevitable conversation to come. Just how angry was Chloe? She had never seen her friend past the point of words like this, hiding in her own head without sign or symbol. If her body language was anything to go by (lack of eye contact, legs turned away, dismissive air) Max had more than a little explaining to do.
She wondered how she could possibly make amends. On one hand she had expected Chloe to react the way she did; on the other, things seemed to go deeper. She expected an argument at the very least, and had prepared to defend herself. When no argument came, she felt exposed, as though she had admitted her own wrongdoing by taking the defensive. When Victoria had come on to her, Chloe had never passed her mind. Now, days afterward, Chloe was all she could think about. Max considered turning on the radio, but thought better of it.
The rest of the trip was made in a veritable vacuum. When they arrived at Chloe's house, David was nowhere to be seen. For that, Max was grateful; she didn't think she'd be able to put up with his nosiness today. Chloe and Max made their way up the stairs, and into Chloe's room. She pulled a box from her closet, then went to the bathroom before returning with beige concealer and a tissue. From the box she pulled white eyeliner. When Max looked into Chloe's moist eyes, she felt a pang of regret; it was clear the older girl wasn't taking things well.
"Sit down on the bed," she instructed, and Max felt a sudden sense of deja vu. Had Victoria not wanted the same of her not more than a day ago? A heat grew in Max's stomach, and spread throughout her limbs. "You clearly have no idea how to cover yourself up - you did a hella bad job, Caulfield." Chloe had only ever used Max's last name when she was bitter, she knew. This was one of those times, it would seem.
Chloe wet the tissue against her tongue and placed it on Max's neck, dabbing, wiping the area clean of makeup; it came away browned. "You have to put on white eyeshadow before you put on the concealer itself, fucktard." Chloe frowned, pulling the shadow from its bottle before applying it to the now visible bruise. "Y'know, I have no idea what you see in Bitchtoria. She's an awful person to everyone she meets, including you, including me. She's mean, and cruel - don't you remember that she almost drove Kate to suicide?"
Max cringed at the memory of Victoria writing the link to Kate's video on the mirror in the women's restroom, and the way she called her a "viral slut". The vile way she laughed, and chided, and spat insults came back to Max's mind in a veritable torrent of shame.
"Just because she get's everything she wants doesn't mean she should get you too," Chloe began, waiting for the eyeshadow to dry. She blew on the spot, her hot breath sending shivers up Max's spine. "You know that you have other options, right? And I'm not talking about that nerd, Warren." More silence; Max was growing tired of all the silence. "You have other options," Chloe said, applying concealer to Max's neck in long, steady strokes, "Like me," she whispered. Max turned to face her, only to find that she had shied away, red blooming across her cheeks.
"Chloe," she said, her voice soft and sad. Chloe refused to meet her gaze, fingers playing in the sheets, twisting and turning the fabric. "Chloe, listen, I went to that Vortex Club party last weekend, and Victoria was drunk, and we were alone, and it just sort of… happened. I can't explain it. It's not like I sought her out, it wasn't like that," Max explained, half-trembling, "Chloe, look at me."
She did, tears welling up around the corners of her wide crystalline eyes. Max brushed them away with her thumb, bringing it to rest on the older girl's chin. Taking the initiative, Max leaned forward, tilted her head, and captured Chloe's lips in her own. The kiss was tender, and firm, temperate, but unreturned. Another moment passed, and Chloe began to kiss back with a slow sort of fervor. She cupped Max's cheek, drawing her close. They deepened the kiss simultaneously, opening their mouths, embracing one another, the flame of their passion growing. Chloe was the first to pull back.
"I'm not going to let Victoria take your virginity."
"What do you mean?" Max replied, confused.
"You're about to find out."
Hate to leave you guys hanging. Every review makes me more motivated to write! ;)