Disclaimer: Anything familiar to you, I don't own. This is a work of fanfiction for personal amusement, fulfillment and maybe a bit of self-therapy. I make nothing from any of it. Cheers.
Chapter Twenty-One: Parode
November 19th, 2010
The sun was already beginning to dip low outside of the small, makeshift dressing room in the form of a canvas tent. For reasons that Chloe could not recall, she found herself standing absently in front of the mirror. Save for the two parts of her costume which she would call the coup de grâce and little things like makeup, she was all set for the big moment. Almost as necessary to keep in mind due to her outfit as her lines was the blocking she would need to keep in mind to deliver the full effect of her costume and character: an otherworldly being masquerading-albeit poorly- as a human. In this modern-alternative twist Chloe dressed Oberon almost like she was ready to visit the kind of punk rock show which would send a conservative parent into a conniption. This was the surface layer, the ragged pale tee with the dark shape of a flower stem and its bulb standing out in stark contrast. Resting over yet another tee which was close to the color, it was hoped, of her skin (at least when under bright lighting) the white one was the most plain, unaligned shirt she could find to go with the dark leather pants. Which I am not entirely sure I hate. It also, she hoped, nodded toward one well recognizable symbol of Oberon's.
Chloe's eyes traced the intricate pattern which a light outline made down her face in the mirror. Steph had taken the most intricate care with both Rachel and herself, using a steady hand and patience that Chloe felt grateful for, contrasting her own jitters, to bring a winding depiction of ivy down one side of their faces, down their throats to vanish just beneath the neckline and then down each arm, onto the backs of their hands. This outline still needed filled in with the special paint secured at some cost by the theater department. The general plan, Chloe knew, was for her to do Rachel's and then Steph to come and do her own. If they could pull that off, attend to stage makeup and then install their wings in time without any significant disaster befalling them, they would finally be armed to go into the school's production of A Midsummer Night's Dream on neutral ground.
Chloe had not felt much like smiling for a couple of weeks. If anything were going to be able to do it, she would think the sight of her in a mirror would be the thing. Whether it was the outfit, the ivy outlined on her face or the short, vivid neon-green hair that now resided on her head in place of the blue she had begun to become a bit attached to, it should have moved something. At least, Chloe thought to herself, I'm with it enough to be panicking. On the table in front of her sat four thick, sharp dark-green wings. Slit into the back of the overshirt on her back (and through the undershirt, too) were spots just for each of them. If we can get them angled just right they're going to look pretty good.
After a point, Chloe was simply sitting in silence, bouncing between frustration and worry. This is nothing like last time, she mused. Last time if I fucked up, 'oh well.' This time I've put hours and hours into this shit. The extra time helping people with their costumes alone is… crazy. If this gets fucked up because of something I say or do...Chloe shook her head at her reflection. Pull it together, Price. She jumped as a hand came to rest on her right shoulder and dragged her eyes away from her reflection to that of the photographer behind her. She hated how hyperaware she was of Max's hand, of its warmth. She hated how hyperaware she was of being touched. It had been some time since there had been any physical affection between her and Rachel. Chloe had almost gotten used to the lack of physical contact in her life again. There were even people she valued that from.
"Hey," Max greeted, lips curling into a reassuring smile that looked like someone had pasted it on to cover their own insecurities. Chloe felt like the least she could do was try to do the same. Max Caulfield was already in costume, herself. She and Chloe had taken turns changing a few minutes prior but Chloe had been too in her own head, in her worry of the wall between herself and the only two people who mattered, truly, deeply. She had not really seen Max in her full Puckish glory. Chloe turned to look at her more directly and the gesture must have meant something different to Max than it did her. The brunette stepped back, slightly. Chloe admired the intricate time and effort spent braiding her hair. Rachel's was even more extreme, but compared to Chloe's, Max's hair had taken a while. At least Keaton has one hell of a hair and makeup team.
"You alright?" she asked Max, aware that that false smile had slowly faded from her own face. A voice in the back of her head told her to seize the girl, clothed in a stereotypical 70s Hippie outfit, in a tight hug and not let go until they felt better. She told that voice to go fuck itself, because it did not come with answers to whether that act would have been right or wrong.
"No," Max deadpanned, "scared shitless." Chloe nodded, one corner of her mouth rising. "Wanna sneak off a bit and, you know, relax, like, really relax?"
"Hippie stoner," Chloe shot back, rolling her eyes. This, at least, made Max smile for real. The honest truth was that yes, she absolutely wanted to run around the few shadier parts of campus with her Super Max and get high off her ass. She also wanted to keep her head in the game, on her lines, on blocking, on not letting her issues with Rachel ruin the play. As if summoned by the thought, the girl entered the tent, flanked on either side by Juliet and Steph. Even without the bodypaint or makeup done, Rachel looked like a beautiful, dangerous demigoddess in disguise. She was walking like Titania, holding herself like Titania, and even though she started and smiled at the sight of Chloe (a smile that pretended everything was alright) there was an extra confidence around her that Chloe recognized as the mask of her character fixed firmly in place. When it came to people Chloe wanted to grab onto and never let go of, there were now two in the room with her.
Still, Chloe knew that the dirty-blonde wanted to pretend, just for this day, that everything was alright. That was why her smile seemed so out of place and forced. Chloe wasn't sure she could commit to that kind of deluding herself. She was engaged in enough of that when she pretended that she hadn't gone back to living out of her truck a few days before. David threatening to call the cops if I don't come home soon… how low can you get? Chloe turned her lips upward once in a mimic of a smile and then looked back down at the table in front of her. Max released her shoulder. The room grew uncomfortable still. Juliet made a humming noise in the back of her throat and then Chloe could hear her leave.
"Hey, Rachel," Chloe finally said. "You all ready for me?"
"Yeah," Rachel's voice was even and friendly enough but Chloe knew that at best she would see a mask if she looked into the girl's eyes. She had for the last week. "Keaton wants you, me and Steph to get the body paint bits done so they can dry in time for makeup and stuff." Chloe could almost feel Max wanting to speak behind her. Chloe wanted to say plenty, herself. She just knew that if she got started it would be her undoing. She could not be undone, not today. If the world had to fall farther to shit, that could wait until the play was over and gone. Oberon, she told herself, lifting her head. If Rachel could hide behind Titania, she could hide behind Oberon. Chloe matched her own eyes in the mirror and then pushed herself to her feet, grabbing both the wings and the specialized body paint.
"Let's do this, then," she said, turning Oberon's calm but self-consumed gaze upon the girls behind her. There was some comfort in the act, in being Oberon, here in interactions with others. After so long practicing for the role, Oberon felt like an old, cherished blanket. Even if Oberon is actually a creepy motherfucker. Most of the cast is a creepy motherfucker. As Rachel informed Max that she had been summoned to makeup, Chloe stared at the scene before her and allowed herself to be selfish. I want to talk to them both about all of this. Right here and now. I want to tell them that it's hard without them. I want to tell Steph that she's been a lifesaver for letting me shower at her place and not telling anyone about it. I want to ask Rachel not to leave me. I want to tell her, no, I want to tell her and Max both that I'm fucking lonely. She wanted more than this, but Chloe stamped down on the thoughts before they went any further or deeper. Some of them were too much to put into words at this point.
A couple of hours later, Chloe retreated to a small corner of her own mind and Oberon stepped out onto the stage. She was lit by the spotlight and various smaller lights arranged on and above the stage for a moment, only long enough to catch a glimpse of Rachel- of Titania. Behind Oberon, her train (a few people who had volunteered for no-speaking roles) slowed. Oberon, through Chloe, trailed her eyes trailed over a spare fairy beside her dear Puck and then the lights faded. The crowd mumbled to one another, no doubt in wonder as to why the lights would be falling mid scene. Calm, measured steps in the near dark drew her toward center-back stage. Barely an outline in the darkness opposite her, Titania stopped only a foot away. The lights did not rise all at once, but a powerful blacklight came up.
The part of her that was Chloe shivered in delight as muttering ran through the crowd, appreciative murmuring. Even from her spot so close to Rachel she saw the girl's pale blue wings glowing brightly beneath the light and knew her own were doing the same faithfully. The ivy down their faces and arms shone more effectively than Chloe had expected when she suggested the idea. Judging by the nigh on imperceptible flick of Rachel's (or was it Titania's) eyes from her face to her hair, Chloe knew that the light was playing nice with it. Only two or three seconds passed before the murmuring went down. Backstage, Mikey was on point with the lighting. The stage lights rose around them first and as slowly as the dimmer setup allowed them to. When the spotlight joined in, still focused on Puck and the unnamed fairy, they were standing precisely where they had been a moment ago. Oberon, Titania and their trains had moved into position in the darkness, like beings flitting between moments in the natural world.
"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania," that Chloe part of her wanted to shiver again but restrained it. The voice, the emotions in it did not feel or sound like her. They were the character. This was, Chloe had to admit, disconcerting. Opposite of her, Rachel's face was composure on the outside but Chloe saw the fire in her eyes as Titania turned to face half toward the crowd and half her train. As the lighting grew brighter and the spotlight shifted from Max and Brooke to Chloe and Rachel, the ivy lost its effect. The blacklight set into the bottom of the set shut off. It was something of a joke at that point.
"What, jealous Oberon! Fairies," Titania said, speaking less to the crowd and now to her train. "Skip hence; I have forsworn her bed or her company." Chloe blinked slowly through her mask and exhaled. Rachel was better at this business than her, no matter how much she said otherwise. Even so, Chloe knew from the moment that that line was delivered that they were channeling themselves and their issues into Oberon and Titania. The fire in Rachel's eyes was all the proof of that. Chloe could not stop herself: she joined that practice wholeheartedly.
At times the crowd stayed dead silent through their extended exchange. Chloe had expected to feel awkward about this scene, about all of the people arrayed around them on stage while she and Rachel (or rather, as it should have been, Oberon and Titania) had it out with each other. She did not. Instead, every bit of this was cathartic as hell. They were doomed, it seemed, to play out their emotions on stage as they had the year prior. Fuck it, Chloe thought as she took up a place in the forefront of her mind beside Oberon. Dressed grungier than her fairy queen, Titania looked fit for the kind of show where it didn't matter who you were, you were likely to come away with a black eye, shitfaced and laughing with a complete stranger until you split and made your separate ways through the night.
As the scene progressed the anger dimmed in Rachel's eyes. Chloe's own frustration and feelings of imminent abandonment did not vanish, but she felt more and more control over them as they spoke the words of someone long dead. In the end, for as horrible of a 'person' as Oberon was, she was only one part jealousy. She was also scorned lover, kept at arms length from her partner but too sick to know how to respond to that. In ways, Chloe could sympathize. In other ways, this exorcising of some of her demons had a detrimental effect. Oberon, Chloe was fairly sure, should not be tempted to seize Titania by the chin and tilt her head up for a kiss. Not, at least, here and now. Chloe wanted little more by that point than Rachel's lips, or the feel of her fingers intertwining with her own. She wanted Rachel to try to tease her about those thoughts and she wanted to tease back. She wanted everything they had been. Thusly, it was easy to lace yearning beneath Oberon's words.
"How long within this woods intend you stay?" Oberon asked, standing as tall and as proudly as she could, trying to offer her lover an alternative, to bow to her whim and be reunited with her. Objectively, Chloe knew this was not a good thing. Subjectively though, she had to embrace this part of Oberon. This, in Oberon's mind, beneficence toward them both: 'just cave to me and we can sneak off, love each other again and laugh. We can set the world right.'
"Perchance," Rachel said, turning herself briefly more toward Chloe and then back toward the crowd. "'Till after Theseus' wedding-day. If you will patiently dance in our round and see our moonlight revels, go with us; if not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts." A certain finality tinged these words anew and Chloe wondered if that finality was Rachel's or Titania's. It was hard to tell, in the moment.
"Give me that boy and I will go with thee," she challenged. Rachel paused, slowing the pace down slightly, in a way she had not done in practice. It made perfect sense in the moment. It implied the passage of emotions and nonverbal conversation between the characters as Rachel's eyes locked her own. This is what a good actress can do, in the moment. These small changes that, if you put them into words, would be robbed of their power. Forget Titania… Rachel is the force of nature.
"Not for thy fairy kingdom," she declared suddenly, quickly, finally. Several people in the crowd chuckled. That was alright, sometimes Chloe still chuckled at the line. "Fairies, away! We shall chide downright, if I longer stay." It was impressive watching Rachel turn and storm away with Titania's train at her heels. It was a gesture that looked more like it was made for someone wearing a long, flowing dress that could spin along with them and give the moment more drama. Yet it worked perfectly for the character even clad in a torn, dark, grungy tee, tattered jeans and a pair of Chloe's old chucks. It was almost like the gesture itself told the story of that flowing dress even in its absence.
Rachel got to bail from stage, but Chloe knew her part was not done yet. She watched the girl go and then turned on her heel toward Max, who, as Puck was pretending not to be amused as she watched the exchange. Puck, a sort of hippie-jester in Oberon's employ, approached slightly but stopped just short as Oberon spoke to herself. She did her best to keep her composure for the rest of the scene. It was actually easy. Somehow, everything felt easier from that point. Eagerly, when the lights went down and she knew she could bounce back stage to find Rachel before the next scene began, Chloe hurried off stage right, watching Max shoot across to stage left in the dark. Clearing the stage in some swiftness was not in the spirit of their practice, but Chloe was eager to actually spend one stolen moment with Rachel.
There was no sign of the girl back stage right. With some care so that her wings would not be bent or injured in any way, Chloe wormed her away around back. Polite clapping sounded from the crowd. It was dark behind the set, so Chloe gave up and pushed her way through the back curtain. She was rewarded by the sight of Rachel, but stopped dead in her tracks. Something is waiting for me, Chloe realized as she took in Rachel and Max wrapped up in each others' arms. And it's going to fucking hurt. Reasonably, Chloe could tell herself that this was excitement. Shit, she might have hugged Max herself if they had exited on the same side. The thing was, when the girls pulled apart, there was something in their eyes, in eyes locked on each other. Chloe had seen the looks on their faces directed toward her on more than one occasion, by either of them. She had seen this happen before, of course. In this case it was so blatant (there was no taking turns stealing glances at one another when they thought no one was watching) that Chloe could not help but wonder that it was not followed by some sort of passionate gesture like a kiss. And if you and Max had walked off stage on the same side and Rachel found you in a hug with Max? If she had seen you both look at each other like this, she asked herself. What then?
The answer came to her mind as the girls took notice of her. Confusion and guilt wracked each face. Chloe had seen and felt that combination herself plenty in the last couple of months. She stood frozen to her spot. It's different, she thought. Because those two are the kind of person the other deserves. At one point, Chloe opened her mouth to speak. Neither of them managed to find words, either. She shut her mouth and turned to vanish behind the curtain. The stage was small enough that there was no hiding between scenes. The only good news was that in half a minute or so Rachel would need to be on stage for scene two with Titania's attendants. Chloe would follow shortly after. She would have no cause to speak to either Rachel or Max until she was firmly entombed behind a new, if temporary mask of her own. One which she named, I Don't Give a Fuck.
As they took their final group bow some time later, to general applause, Chloe tried to remember that she should feel good. Instead she was confused as to what she was supposed to feel with her right hand in Rachel's hand and her left in Max's. She had trouble focusing on the general positive response from the crowd that Mikey reading her name and Chloe's appearance on stage had brought when the play was done. All she knew was that until the metaphorical curtain fell, she had to smile. She did. It was the most forced smile she could remember giving since her mother brought David Madsen into their home, but she smiled. On either side of her, Rachel and Max did the same. Chloe tried not to look to where she knew her mother was sat. She even tried not to look at the Caulfields who had made their not-so-surprise appearance in town that morning, sending their daughter a group selfie with Chloe's mother at the diner. Under normal circumstances she'd be gungho to see Vanessa and Ryan again.
In this case, though, the minute that the lights went out, Chloe released the hands of the girls on either side and turned. Having spent all night jumping between the stage (whether in dark between scenes and acts or not) the pitch black backstage or the dimly lit area behind the stage, Chloe crossed to exeunt into the night without a problem. She didn't bother trying to refocus her eyes once she was behind the set and instead felt around for the break in the curtain blocking her from the backstage area where she knew Mikey was sitting in wait on the sound board. Fucking hero, she was able to spare a thought for the boy. He looked exhausted when she pulled to a stop in front of him and disconnected the microphone from her shirt collar. Running between sound and lights with only one other stage hand all night will do that to you. Mikey looked up at her once, his face contorted in confusion.
"You kicked ass," she told him, uncaring as to whether he had had time to cut peoples' personal mics or not. When his lips curled in an appreciative smile, Chloe dropped all further pretense and started to walk briskly away. He called out her name in confusion. Another voice, this one Rachel's, promised someone she would text them later. Probably Max. Chloe did not turn back to see Rachel emerge from the curtain. It was not too difficult to find a route to the parking lot that didn't take her by the front of the stage.
What was difficult, Chloe found out a moment later as she worked her legs a little quicker, was shaking Rachel when she was determined not to be shaken. Rachel was hurrying along at a pace bordering on jogging when she caught up with Chloe. She'd probably blame it on shorter legs. Still dressed and made up as Titania, Rachel momentarily inspired in Chloe the delusional urge to speak in character. She might have laughed if she didn't just want Rachel to take the hint and back off. Chloe fixed her eyes in front of her, despite feeling Rachel's boring into the side of her head. A couple of wandering students already down the path toward the parking lot spotted them. Chloe did not recognize them, so they were likely of Mikey's year.
"Hey, fairy queens!" one of them shouted. Chloe did not give him a second look as she hurried past. "Just make out already!" I should let their teeth make out with my fist. Something shot out of her mouth in response. It was supposed to be scathing and obscene but instead when she closed her mouth again, she knew she had just spoken a gibberish of obscenities toward a complete stranger. The unknown boys' laughter reached her ears. Chloe kept walking, but this was apparently the wrong choice.
"Chloe," Rachel said, emphatically. I need to sleep this off, Chloe thought. I need to get away and get some sleep. That was not what she said when Rachel repeated her call, this time more demandingly. Maybe it was the whole situation between her, Rachel and Max, maybe it was what she had witnessed backstage, the surety it had left in her that she was about to be alone or maybe it was the idea of driving out of town and off into what little in the way of 'country' she could find to find somewhere to sleep in the cab of her truck, but she snapped a bit.
"I'm not okay," Chloe told her, head shooting around without warning. She hated that she was raising her voice anywhere in Rachel's direction but she felt trapped and more than a little bit desperate. "I need to go." This was supposed to express the idea that she needed to go alone, but Rachel did not perceive it that way, judging by the way the girl picked up pace to match Chloe's jog. "I can't talk about this," she told the blonde beside her as they reached the steps to the parking lot. A few people were funneling toward it already from the stage, predictably. Chloe shot past a man who was severely overdressed and down into the lot. Rachel followed suit.
"Not talking about this is the worst part," Rachel told her, still in pursuit. "I think it's why this all hurts so bad." Echoing thoughts that Chloe had had herself, Chloe realized the girl had said the only thing that might get her to slow down.
"I'm not talking about it here," Chloe shot back as she turned around. Rachel took two sudden steps back and Chloe realized she had been outright yelling. God this hurts, she said. None of this is supposed to hurt like this. Not tonight. Tonight we should be ditching the wrap party to get shitfaced on the shittiest beer that no money can buy. We should be laughing.
"Fine," Rachel finally retorted, sternly. When the girl walked clean past her toward the Frankentruck, the surety from before rose back up inside her. It warned her that if she drove them someplace private right then and there, she would end the night more profoundly and completely alone. Sometimes Chloe thought that the line 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all' was bullshit. She knew deep down that after Rachel split from her she would be more miserable than she was before they even started hanging out. A tiny part of her was already making plans in her head for the small amount of money she had to her name and how much gasoline she could purchase with it, how far from Arcadia Bay she could get before either the gas ran out or the Frankentruck died on her.
Though Chloe hated the idea, Rachel rode the entirety of the trip in the bed of the truck, as if to remove the temptation to speak. Eventually, though, Chloe shut the engine off with herself, Rachel and the truck firmly ensconced in the "private" walls of the familiar and almost nurturing junk that made up the American Rust junkyard in Arcadia Bay's outer limits. She could not bring herself to open the door. There was a whole world of hurt waiting out there in what she feared would be their place for the last time. The truck shifted as Rachel climbed from the bed of it. Having slept in the back of her truck no small amount of times lately, Chloe knew how uncomfortable even sitting in it was. Part of her hoped Rachel was not too cold after the trip.
The sound of the wind through trees always conjured up specific images in Chloe's mind. It was pirate forts, buried treasure, the laughter of a younger Max. It was the fairgrounds as a kid with all the sights, sounds and smells found there. It was long walks they would get in trouble for taking through the woods, climbing over a half collapsed stretch of fence and passing from a regular old Arcadia Bay park into a National Park which mostly only meant that it was larger, more well protected and funded. It was the sound of nostalgia. The sound Chloe was listening to in the moment was wind whistling through hollowed out shells of vehicles, past junk of all kinds, all shapes and sizes. That sound was Rachel's hand in hers. It was the warmth of the girl pressed up against her, it was learning to get used to physical contact, to cuddling. It was their raucous ribbing of each other, shoving one another about in laughter at some joke no one else would find funny. It was a stolen kiss, it was a moment when they, alongside Max, conquered Damon Merrick simply by not letting him steal this place's meaning from them. It was the birthday party they held for Max, happiness, beer, celebration, rolling dice. It was Their Place, hers and Rachel's and, yes, Max's. It should not have sounded so hollow in her ears that night.
Inevitably, the popular, confident, talented girl with her long, gorgeous braided blonde hair and burning hazel eyes looked once through the window of Chloe's driver side door and then, when Chloe did not entirely match her gaze, opened it herself. Chloe swallowed. To stay sitting there, still and silent at this point, would be cowardice. She was not going to be a coward, not about this. The mask of Oberon might as well have been solid and real (not to mention laying discarded on the front seat of the truck) because when her feet touched the ground and the door shut behind her Chloe FELT everything with such an intensity that she did not think she could move quite yet. Rage and hurt, sadness and fear danced in equal measure together like fae in a circle beneath a full moon. Upsetting was how she saw the same dance taking place not behind Rachel's own mask, but in and on her face, in the way she furrowed her brow, in the way her cheeks tinged red in the dying light, in the unnatural frown or in the way Rachel swallowed more often than normal, as if trying to keep something down. Then, as if someone had fired a pistol at the starting line of a sprint, Chloe Price and Rachel Amber sprung on the offensive simultaneously.
"If you're going to fuck off and leave me, you can stow the bullshit," she told Rachel, unconsciously mimicking the first words Rachel had ever spoken to Max. She recognized it the moment the line came out. "I fucking get it alright. If you're going to break up with me for Max, I get it. Just get it done. I'm tired of waiting for it. It's like looking over your shoulder for someone to come at you, swinging at your skull and I'm fucking tired of being scared of the people I love!" Chloe expected any number of responses to this exhausting, open proclamation. Anger, rage, or even just a defeated sigh that washed away Rachel's emotions and was followed by an admission that yes, it was over. She did not expect Rachel to laugh, once, loudly, humorlessly in her face.
"Ha! I could say the same thing to you," Rachel practically yelled. Her voice echoed off the old cars, boat and bus shells around them. Chloe wondered if hers had echoed the same. A gust of wind struck. Rachel's stray hairs flew wildly around her head. Chloe actually staggered back against the truck under the force of the wind. Rachel stepped back once and Chloe realized that there was no word for the kind of upset on her face. It was as if someone had taken every negative emotion Rachel had been feeling, poured them into a glass and shook them so hard they could not be distinguished. Another gust of wind slapped them both in the face but Rachel did not so much as wince.
"You're always stealing looks at her when you think neither of us is watching and the look on your face, man... there's all this shit that you'd only do or say to me before. Now you do all of them with Max, short of actually kissing her. Don't lie to me about it, I'm a big girl, I can take it." Why this last part came out pleading, Chloe wasn't sure.
"Yeah," Rachel declared, loudly over a rising blast of wind. Chloe looked up despite herself, for clouds and found none in the night sky. Rachel threw her hands up and then slammed them back down at her sides. Chloe could almost swear she heard thunder in the distance. "You know what?" Rachel asked her, though it was the kind of rhetorical question which seemed dangerous to answer. "You're right. I like Max. I really like her. A lot. In the same way I'm into you. She feels the same, and I know it. You know it. The entire fucking school knows it. Some of them look at me like they're waiting to see if I'm going to be a total dick to you. They know. You know what though?" Again, this seemed rhetorical, so, more upset than angry, Chloe waited. "You can't even pretend you're not in the same boat." Rachel's mouth slammed shut exaggeratedly, a fight seemed to be fought and lost on her face and then she spoke again and her words and the feelings behind them felt so familiar that she might have preferred for Rachel to stab her.
"You two do the same shit, Chloe." Rachel seemed to take a step left, then right, as if she wanted to move in some way but she wasn't sure how without making it look like she was trying to run away from the conversation and that was sure as shit not an option. Chloe could feel that same nervous energy in her legs. "Sometimes it even makes sense for you to tell me, 'I'm sorry, I'm just not into you anymore.'" That's fucking absurd, Chloe wanted to shout at her. That's absolute nonsense. "Look at you two. You're so fucking alike. You're so artistic, you're so emotional, sometimes I don't know if I am even capable of feeling like you both do." Rachel's hands were clenched so tightly part of Chloe worried she was going to hurt herself. "You fuckers live life so real that the rest of the world looks like a god damned movie set that is falling apart." She's picked up my 'inappropriate language.' "And you know what? Fuck it. Some days I feel awed by that and it's nice to feel close to you both and feel like you're my friends but I can't help that a part of me wants more than that from either, from both of you. If that makes me an asshole that's fine, but to hell with all the bullshit dancing around."
Though Chloe was being almost rocked on her feet by the strange wind which was making horrible noises as it passed over the junkyard, it ironically felt that all the wind in her sails was gone. That did nothing for the feelings inside of her. It did not rob her of them. It didn't even dull them. It just made her feel powerless because she knew that screaming and yelling and cursing would not be a release valve for them, at least not as completely. That would be a waste of time and energy and fuck all of that. She had- they had already wasted enough of both of those things. Rachel seemed to be deflating under her confession, too, but her fists didn't unclench.
"I've thought the same shit," Chloe told her, her voice lowering as the wind began to die down. She still shivered. "I've thought all of that same shit. That I wasn't worth you. That the feelings you were getting for Max would make you see it. That you'd see her and realize that here's someone that neither of us can help but feel this way about and you'd realize I wasn't worth a fuck in comparison to either of you. A spark in front of a forest fire." This time it was Chloe's turn for a bitter laugh. She had not meant to allude to something that dark in their past. Rachel did not look any more or less hurt. She looked like she was trying hard to hold her tongue and let Chloe finish. "Because I know right here," her fingers jabbed into her own chest, hard. "I know right here that she's worth more than I am and I've always known you are."
"God damn it," Rachel suddenly yelled, like a balloon bursting under too much air. That balloon popped right in Chloe's face and she jerked back so hard she slammed her head against the door of the Frankentruck. Pain throbbed in the back of her head. "Yeah I've got a fucking crush on Max. Same as you. Fucking look at her. She's amazing. She's funny, she's probably as smart as you are and she's stronger than the both of us put together. Of fucking course we have a crush. Does that mean I don't still feel like a different person when I'm with you? Does that mean that those things I can barely fucking put words to, those real reasons, the ones deep down that I caught feelings for you are gone? Fuck no." Chloe remained pressed against the side of the truck as Rachel approached. The girl placed her hands against the truck on either side of Chloe's shoulders. "Do you feel any different for me?"
"That's stupid," Chloe replied, far more measuredly but surely. "That's a fucking stupid question to ask me." Rachel pushed off of the truck and took a step away from her. There was a moment where Chloe watched physical pain in her eyes as the girl bent down and forced one pant leg up, far and fast, to the point where it was probably squeezing unbearably against her leg. There, even in the moonlight, Chloe could see the dragon outlined bold, twisting down the outside of her calf, powerful and permanent. She had always thought of it as a guardian force, something she had given Rachel that might protect her. This time though, with it barely visible in the starlight, something else began to fall into place.
"Would you still fight a dragon for me?" Rachel asked her in that voice that said she thought she knew the answer already. The meaning of the tattoo Rachel had begged Chloe to design for her months ago hit Chloe as if it were the freight train she and Rachel had hitched numerous rides on. Burning, hateful guilt rose in her chest and then in her throat like the blackest bile. She had told herself time and time again never to distrust Rachel and the feelings that the thespian held for her and in the end, despite this refrain, she had. Chloe had never actually realized the depth of these feelings. It had never been Rachel whose emotions she should have questioned. It had been, from the start, her own. Chloe looked once into the hazel orbs that would always open for her and show her the truth about how Rachel felt and then immediately looked away. The fire in her eyes, Chloe thought. She did not think she could bear to match the girl's gaze again, yet.
"In a heartbeat," Chloe told the ground between her feet. The answer was broken by a sudden body-shaking sob. She didn't stop the tears that came pouring down her face in the next moment nor blink against them, but when she perceived Rachel moving toward her, as if to embrace her, Chloe stepped to the side hard. When she looked up, Rachel was staring fiercely at her, not as if hurt by the action but determined to understand it.
"I don't see how you could possibly ignore Max," Rachel told her. "But if you tell me that you're not going to leave me then I believe you, because Chloe Price will never try to hurt me." The bile in the back of her throat threatened to make a reappearance. Chloe shook her head hard. "I'll believe you and we'll figure out what to do about the rest of it after that." For a moment she could swear that Rachel was channeling Titania, in just the slightest. Then again, Chloe thought. Maybe this was just where the character of Titania overlapped with the person, Rachel: passion, confidence, strength.
"I was right," Chloe finally managed, "you are being stupid. Of course I'm not going to fuckin- who would be dumb enough to have Rachel fucking Amber as a girlfriend and ditch her?" Chloe wanted to sound lighthearted, like she felt better, like she had recovered. She wanted to answer, too. This was the best she could do to accomplish both goals but she knew Rachel saw through her bombastic attitude. Rachel would always see through her and Chloe would always try to reassure the people she loved that everything was going to be alright. The two of them could make their relationship last from teenage lovers to wilted old ladies and Chloe did not think either of those things would change or that they would need to. "Are you, you know, jealous?" Chloe asked her. "About me returning Max's feelings?" It felt like an important conversation to have, the last big barrier between them. She was happy Max wasn't there to put herself in this conversation in any manner. It needed to happen between her and Rachel and it wouldn't have been fair to ask the girl to just sit to the side and let herself be talked about.
"If I was, I'd be a raging hypocrite, wouldn't I?" Rachel asked. When Chloe did not respond, she repeated, "Wouldn't I?" Chloe was forced to nod. Rachel reached down to remove the torn shirt she wore on top of a more appropriate, properly put together pale tee. The discarded shirt flew past Chloe's head and through the open truck window. Titania's wings followed suit, one by one. Chloe didn't blame her. Cold as it was, the tee that served as her own overshirt was uncomfortable. She hated the feeling of two shirts on top of her. It wasn't the same as a jacket over a tee, that was comfortable. This felt constricting like she had issues drawing breath and right in that moment, she knew they both needed to breathe. Trying to stifle her tears and breathe normally again, Chloe pulled her own overshirt off and wrapped her wings up in it, depositing it in the cab of the truck beside's Rachel's. They were both dressed far more casually, in this manner, no longer trying to keep up the image of the fae queens in the mortal realm. The bile seemed to settle. She hoped that the guilt burning in her stomach would die down soon, too. Chloe continued to avoid looking at either Rachel's painted face or tattooed calf. The dragon would be waiting for her there, accusing and judging. It would be right to judge her.
"I'm not actually jealous either," Chloe told her when she finally wiped at her eyes and found no tears there to replace the discarded ones. "I thought I was for a long time. I was just fucking scared. Is that fucked up of us?" Chloe laughed, her eyes coming to rest on a particular ruined car close to fifty feet away from them. For a second she wished she was dreaming. She wished she was dreaming so that the man who that car stole from her could come out and offer her some advice that was probably just from her own subconscious speaking through him. Rachel took a step toward her and Chloe sidestepped again, this time moving toward the car a few steps.
"What happens now?" Rachel asked her, her voice patient. It was also tinged with a kind of affection that Chloe wasn't sure she had heard in it more than once or twice and in the moment made her feel small and more unworthy than she ever had before. The idea that she had ever doubted Rachel when Rachel chose to make her promise, her feelings so permanent and glaringly obvious was tearing at her. Chloe knew the answer to 'what now.' She just didn't think Rachel was going to like it.
"I need air," she told Rachel, turning to walk away.
"What do you mean?" Rachel demanded of her. Judging by the volume of her voice, she had followed Chloe a step or two toward the ruined shell of William Price's car.
"I just need some air. We can keep talking, we can do this right. I just need some space for a second." Chloe exhaled and was surprised she did not throw up her guilt in the act. "Just a walk."
"Be careful," Rachel told her. This did feel like a command, a demand, a declaration that she wouldn't forgive Chloe for getting herself hurt.
"I promise." Chloe shifted her sights from the car to the direction of the railroad tracks. Careful was relative. To them a walk along the tracks was commonplace. To her mother, being in the junkyard at all would have been seen as dangerous. Chloe knew that Rachel understood. She knew, deep down, that Rachel would be waiting for her when she got back. I've been such an asshole.