Archive of Our Own

You resist the urge to sigh, curse or cry out loud when you find yourself sitting on the bathroom floor once again.

You just close your eyes and lean the back of your head against the stall you are hiding behind. It doesn’t take long for Nathan and Chloe to step inside. The sound of their voices tune into the background as you mentally check out.

“I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say.”

You were pretty close this time. Chloe was alive. You prevented Rachel’s death and the storm (both easier than you thought it would be, or you’ve just done it so many times that it became second nature), but apparently, that wasn’t enough for you. Maybe it was a little greedy—it was very greedy—but you wanted Jefferson to suffer. Not in a jail cell like he deserved, but by your own hand. After all, you’re Max fucking Caulfield, extremely selfish, and he fucking deserves it.

But of course, reality had to be a dick and remind you that you can’t do whatever you want.

Just when you thought you had Jefferson cornered, Nathan just had to step in between the two of you. Understandable. The piece of shit was more of a father figure to him than his actual father. Then the piece of shit turned his gun away from you, pointed it at Nathan and fired. He bled out on the ground in front of you, but you can rewind time. It was just a minor setback, you convinced yourself.

Jefferson shot him in the head. Rewind.

Jefferson shot him in the stomach, then in the head as he doubled over. Rewind.

Jefferson shot him in the head, but his aim was slightly off, blowing a hole through one of his eyes instead of his brain. You almost threw up, then rewinded. You can add that to your list of traumatizing things you will never unsee.

You have no idea how many times you tried, how many times you watched Nathan die, but nothing worked. By attempt number you-don’t-fucking-know, blood was pouring out of your nose and your head felt like it was going to explode. Jefferson just added to your headache, having the audacity to taunt you and pour salt into the wound.

“You can do whatever you want to me, Max, but you couldn’t save Nathan, and that will haunt you forever.”

You hate him. You hate him so much. You hate how right he is, and you hate reality for doing this to you.

No matter how good your intentions are, you are not the one in control of what happens in this timeline, the next one, or the one after that.

You did not hesitate for one second to go back.

“You don’t know who the fuck I am or who you’re messing around with!”

You open your diary and tuck the butterfly photo away, trying not to tear it into pieces out of frustration. If you looked to your right, the very same butterfly would be perched on one of the sinks, watching everything unfold, daring you to do something. You try your hardest to ignore it.

You’re tired, but your mind is restless.

You literally have all of the time in the world to rest. The reasonable part of your brain has to remind you that your own health is just as important as your goal. How can you reach it if you just end up getting yourself killed?

You could kill for a nap right now, and the thought of saying literally, even as a joke, makes you recoil almost viscerally. You shake your head clear and quickly move on.

You rub the heel of your palms into your eyes until you see an unhealthy amount of spots. In the end, no amount of rest or reason will stop the universe from having a shred of mercy to not kill Chloe, and entire town and everyone in it, and take back these fucking powers you never asked for.

So, once again, you flip through your diary and get ready to try again.

If you want to save everyone, every last one of them, including Rachel, you have to jump into a photo taken before April, the month she officially goes missing, killed and buried away. You still lived in Seattle at the time, meaning you’ll have to get a train ticket to Portland, then a bus ride back to Arcadia, convince your parents that you’re not running away before they call the police on you and blah blah blah at least your powers are nice enough to spare you from having to sit through all of that.

Ugh, and now you feel bad for making light of the situation. The dull ache that is always in your head makes itself present. It starts off faint. Then it gets louder and louder, and it doesn’t shut up.

All of this time travel, timeline jumping, time-fuckery, is what you blame for who you are now. You may have the resolve capable of handling anything, but you still have the mental state of a barely-functioning teenager, one misstep away from being reduced to tears. As a person, you are already beyond repair, so it's not like you can't handle any more trauma.

It's fine. You'll be fine.

But it’s not that simple. It runs so much deeper than that.

You hear a voice. It’s your own voice, and it’s angry, shouting, pleading, but muffled from how deep into your mind you keep it locked away. What it says terrifies you, so you don’t listen to it, except for when it calls you a coward, weak, selfish and the worst kind of person.

It’s true, which is why you will continue to ignore it.

“Get that gun away from me, psycho!”

Nathan shoots Chloe, and long ago, you would have shriveled up into a ball and cried your eyes out. Now, you don’t even flinch at the gunshot that echoes off the bathroom walls and shakes your whole core. You hear the sound of your best friend’s body hitting the ground and Nathan crying as he begs Chloe to wake up.

Still nothing. How fucked up is that?

You brought this upon yourself the moment you decided to go down this path—to do something impossible. You knew the consequences. Just look at what you have become. The quirky, wannabe hipster that just wanted to be a photographer is gone, replaced with whatever you are now.

Will you even be happy when you do it? If you ever do it? You could be stuck doing this forever until you die.

Do you even age when you’re stuck in a time loop? How does that work?

How long have you been doing this? You’ve been trying for so long, yet you are no closer to when you first started.

Who are you to decide what happens in the world? Reality has already shown you why you can’t.

You’re not a hero.

You’re powerless.

You ruin lives more than you save.

You clutch at the sides of your head, ready to tear your ears out of your own head, before slamming the back of your skull into the bathroom stall behind you. You might be bleeding now, but at least the nagging finally stopped.

“What was that?! Who’s there?!”

A curse passes your lips, realizing what you just did now that you’re staring down the barrel of a very shaky gun.

“Don’t move!” shouts a very panicked Nathan, all color drained from his face, covered in tears. “Don’t fucking move, you hear me?!”

You don’t have the time or the energy to try and stop him. Neither do you go off on him for having the balls to point a gun at the person that just tried to save his life in another timeline. Yeah, you failed, way more than once, but you tried. It never actually happened anyway, even if you can still see the afterimage of part of his face being blown away by Jefferson’s gun.

You hate guns so much.

You continue to flip through the diary in your lap, ignoring the way he flinches and yells more threats at you. He won’t do it. You know he won’t do it. You can’t help but feel bad for him. His finger is trembling away from the gun for fuck’s sake.

Still, you can’t control your luck like you can time, and the last thing you want is to just die and end things right here, so you pick a photo at random without even looking. Your safety comes first. You focus until the photo becomes as clear as the day you took it, and let the familiar blurriness take over, shifting the world around you forward and backwards.

The flash of your polaroid is just as bright as the sterile, white room you are now sitting in. It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust, but the gentle laugh that reaches your ears has you blinking rapidly to speed up the process.

“Really, Max? You know I look terrible right now.”

The girl sitting on the hospital bed across from you looks like an angel, even in her pajamas and unruly hair bun. She is literally the closest thing to an angel this God-awful world even has the honor of behind graced with. You have to remember to play it off, to not sit there with your eyes and mouth wide open like a fish with the ability to travel back in time.

“I got your good side at least,” you say as smooth as driving on a dirt road. You wave the developing photo in your hand a little too hard.

She laughs and shakes her head. It’s been so long since you’ve last seen her smile—her much stronger smile she gained after learning that she has so much more to live for.

Kate doesn’t show up often on this journey of yours, which you consider a good thing. It means she’s alive and well in the background, not being drugged and kidnapped, not having her life ruined by bullies, a viral video, her own family, and eventually, herself. The last thing you want is Kate being involved in this horrible world that forces you to watch the people you care about die over and over.

The memories you have of her can remain untarnished, free of any death that you have become so accustomed to. She can just be the same Kate Marsh that you know and love—an aspiring artist, tea enthusiast, Alice-lover, and so fucking pretty. So pretty that you end up lifting your camera to take another picture of her without thinking. She yelps and shields her eyes from the flash this time.

“But really, Kate, all of your sides are your good side,” you say, as smooth as the surface of the moon. “You could never look bad even if you tried.” There, that’s better.

“Maaax…” she whines, and it takes all of your willpower to not laugh at the adorable way she tries to cover the blush that’s growing on her face.

“Okay, okay.” You put your camera away before putting your hands up, trying to look as innocent as possible. She responds by pouting her lips at you and turning her attention back to the teacup in her hands.

That’s when you realize there is an entire tea set and a single cup sitting on the little table between your seat and her bed. It’s steaming hot, calling your name, and you already know what it is without even having to smell it. You snatch it by the handle and down it one swig.

Kate saw, and quickly rushed to swallow whatever tea she had in her mouth to not spit it out.

“Geez, Max!” she manages to cough out, her shoulder trembling with laughter. “You do know there’s plenty of tea for both of us, right?”

You let out a satisfied sigh. “Sorry,” you chuckle. “You know how much I love chamomile.”

Her amused smile softens as she looks at you. “I know.”

She turns back to the paper and pencil that’s been sitting on her lap and continues where she left off, letting a comfortable silence fill the room. You pour yourself another cup of tea and drink it properly this time. You basically melt into your chair, taking a deep breath and relaxing your shoulders.

You allow your gaze to wander back to the other girl. She studies her paper closely, biting at the other end of the pencil before she adds to her drawing. Her free hand alternates between taking a sip of tea and tucking loose hair behind her ear every minute or so.

God, you’ve missed this so much. It must have been only a few months for her since your last tea date, but for you, it feels like it has been years. Maybe it really has been years. You’ve lost the ability to keep track a long time ago.

Things used to be so simple before everything went to shit. You remember how much you used to look forward to your weekly tea dates with Kate once classes were over. You and her would recommend books to each other. You remember constantly bugging her to hold Alice. You’d hog her, she told you.

You remember the times you spent with Kate on her off days, cracking her shell with kind words, terrible jokes and cat videos until she would start smiling again.

Now look at you.

Why couldn’t things stay that way? Sitting here with Kate feels like a dream you wish you could stay in forever, but you know you will wake up eventually, back into reality’s grasp. You’ve never felt so safe in such a long time. The idea of having to go back is absolutely haunting.

All you can do is ask why. Why is this happening? Why you of all people? What did you ever do to deserve this?

“You okay, Max?” Kate pulls you out of your thoughts, looking at you with concern.

“Huh?” you let out.

“It looked like you were in a dark place over there.”

There’s no hiding it. You can literally feel the frown that’s dragging your face downward. You’re still quick to put a smile back on and hope that it’s convincing enough.

“I’m alright. Don’t worry about it.” You lie through your teeth.

She doesn’t buy it at all. Of course she wouldn’t. If anyone knows about being in dark places, it’s Kate. The way she looks at you is enough to make you sheepish and turn away.

“Do you wanna talk about it? You know you can tell me anything.”

You know that. You just wish it was true. You can’t tell Kate everything. Not just about your power, but everything after and in between. There’s just no way.

“Is it the investigation?” she continues.

“Investigation…?” You slowly mutter back to her.

Her concern turns into confusion. “Yeah, you know… With Nathan and everything.”

It all comes back to you so suddenly. That is what you were going through at the time? It all seems so trivial now, so ignorant of you to just blame Nathan for literally everything. But how could you have possibly suspected Jefferson. He managed to fool everyone, using Nathan as a scapegoat. Just the thought of him, still alive and well in this world, makes you want to throw up. Meanwhile, a giant fucking storm is forming, and all you were concerned about was Chloe.

Chloe, Chloe, Chloe, even though everyone was in danger.

There’s so much more you could have done. So many different ways you could have gone about it. Now, you’re left with nothing but a fucked up timeline. Now you think you have any right to be greedy, and reality is making sure that’ll never happen.

“I’m sorry for prying.”

You finally realize how quiet you must have been when you see the discomfort on Kate’s face.

“No, no, don’t be sorry. It’s just…” All words fail you in this moment. You don’t want to lie to her, not when she’s being so kind and supportive. You would rather go back and suffer some more than do that, so you allow yourself a moment to think. She deserves that much. “I don’t want you to worry about it.” At least that is true. “I just want to spend time with you while I can. Please?”

Her smile returns to her face. “Of course. Whatever you want, Max.”

“Thank you, Kate.”

“Always.” She scoots over a few inches and pats the free spot next to her. “Come sit with me.”

You get up and walk tentatively to where she wants you, your heart picking up speed in your chest as you climb onto the twin-sized excuse of a bed with her. You don’t know why, but you try to give her space. You and her are no strangers to light touches and close contact with one another, but there’s just something telling you to be cautious.

Like you’ll ruin her.

Kate makes it clear that she’s not having any of that. She lets out a combination of a sigh and a chuckle before she nudges you closer to her. With you no longer in danger of falling off the edge of the bed, she leans into you until your shoulders are touching.

If you were to compare chamomile to just being in Kate Marsh’s proximity, the latter will win every time. You manage to relax again, but still, the beating in your chest doesn’t slow down at all.

Kate goes back to the paper on her lap, which you find out is actually a whole stack. You watch over her shoulder as she starts drawing again. You focus on the sound of pencil on paper, her breathing, and ignore the view you now have of the hospital room window where the world is nothing but a blurry mess of colors to you, reminding you exactly where you are and what you are doing.You try your hardest, and you have your friend’s comforting presence to thank for making it so much easier.

Kate is good at drawing many different styles, you discover. She switches back and forth between her stack of paper, all of them already covered with different sketches. Her art style ranges from cartoon characters that you recognize, characters of her own creation, and lifelike drawings of Alice and other animals.

“Hey.” You lean closer. Your chin falls onto her shoulder as you point out a specific drawing that caught your eye—a superhero with their hands on their hips, donning a skin-tight suit and a cape blowing behind them. “Who is that supposed to be?” Their shoulder-length hair and the giant letter M on their chest is kind of a dead giveaway. “I’m nowhere near that fit,” you laugh.

You can feel the heat coming off of her face. She still laughs off her embarrassment with ease. “It’s true, though. You really are like a superhero. My hero.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. You’re not a hero, makes its way back into your memory, because it’s true. You’ve done absolutely nothing. You have a superpower that doesn’t want to work when it matters the most, when your friends’ lives are on the line.

“I did nothing, Kate,” which you have to remember, is true in more ways than one.

“You’ve done so much,” she denies softly. “More than I could ever thank you for.”

A lump forms in your throat. You know exactly what she’s talking about, but you can’t help but think about everything that she doesn’t know. So much more is going on behind the scenes than she even knows. She’s innocent, but oh so ignorant. You don’t want to ruin that. She’s still the one constant in your life you can rely on.

Gently, you wrap your arms around her free arm and pull it close to your chest. Her eyes don’t leave her work, but she acknowledges you with a sweet smile.

She switches to another paper you haven’t seen yet, one covered in sketches of hands in many different poses. One hand is clenched into a fist. Another one has its fingers in a peace sign, and next to a vulgar hand with only its middle finger up is an elegant hand spreading its long fingers wide open.

You know how to draw, but you’re no artist. You’re way passed stick figures, but anything else after that becomes questionable. You specialize in photography anyway, which is why it amazes you how Kate flicks her wrist and turns simple lines into something that’s so alive. They’re just simple sketches of hands, but you can see the emotion Kate is trying to convey in each pose.

“Wow. You must have had a lot of practice,” you comment, thinking back on your own past attempts and failures at drawing hands. “Hands are hard.”

“I agree. They can be hard to get right,” Kate says as she continues scribbling. “But I love drawing them now.”

“Well you’ve improved a lot!” You remember when she would compare her art to Daniel’s self-portraits and think she doesn’t even come close to his talent.

“Aw, thank you.” She briefly nuzzles her cheek against yours, and holy shit, she really just did that. “I’ve been pretty inspired lately.”

“How?” you ask through a blush, genuinely curious.

A minute passes in silence, then Kate puts her pencil down to reach for your hand. Her hand is soft and warm in your own, but her grip is still tight. She gives your hand a squeeze, and it’s only natural that you squeeze back.

Still, you look away, because your face is on fire right now. God, this girl. When did she become so smooth? You’re not sure you can take much more. Your attention lands back onto her drawings as you try to focus on anything that isn’t Kate that might only fluster your more.

Art, right, you remind yourself, ignoring the beautiful smile on Kate’s face that you swear has a bit of a smirk in it. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the one in the very center of the paper.

It’s… good, really good. The longer you stare at it, the more taken you become, and the more Kate refuses to leave your mind.

Two hands grasp for one another. One of the hand’s grip is strong but desperate for the other. The other hand holds on like its life depends on it, terrified but putting all of its trust on the other.

You could almost picture the rain. It’s not violent, like the storm you first saw in the forest, but it’s overwhelming and painful, just as it was on the rooftop of the girls’ dormitory.

You seriously can’t take much more from this girl.

“Sorry.” Kate lets go of your hand. “That was—”

You don’t let her finish. You let go of her arm to hug her around her shoulders, burying your face into the crook of her neck. It only takes a second for Kate to let go of any surprise in her body before she wraps her arms around you in return.

The two of you sit there in silence, holding onto her for dear life, before you finally open your mouth.

“You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too, Max.”

“I’m serious, Kate.”

“So am I.”

This is wrong. You should not be doing this. How dare you give in to your emotions like you have any? As if on cue, your head starts to ache, whispering and nagging at you.

Please, not now.

You’re shaking, and you can’t stop it. You’re being weak again. You’re being a coward again. You’re being selfish again. No matter how hard you try to ignore it, the voice is loud and clear in your head. You’ll ruin Kate, and that scares you so much. The thought makes you grip onto her harder, even though you should be nowhere near her.

You ruin more lives than you save.

“Max?”

You let out a pathetic hum against her pulse. “Hm?”

Her hand goes to the back of your head, holding you steady and in place. “I don’t know what you’re going through, but…” She runs her fingers gently through your hair. She’s observant as ever. Of course she knows more than you’re allowed to tell her. “It’s okay to let it out.”

You hold back a whine from escaping your throat and try not to shake your head.

“No?” She takes your silence as such.

You nod. You must look so pathetic. You are pathetic.

“Why not?”

You think about it, and you’re already regretting it, because the thought of letting it all out just becomes more and more appealing. At the same time, you remember your place. You remember who and what you are. You don’t deserve any respite.

“I can’t.” Your voice comes out muffled against her neck.

“It’ll help.” She talks so carefully, like she’s afraid you’ll fall apart in her arms. You already kind of are. Every second she spends trying to comfort you just makes it so much harder to stay together.

You pull away from her, which doesn’t take much effort with how much energy you just lost in mere seconds. “I literally can’t, Kate… cry, I mean.”

When you look at her, you’re met with pure confusion and so much concern on her face, silently asking so many questions. You have answers for all of them. You’re just not sure if she’s ready for those answers. You’re not sure if you, yourself, are ready to give those answers.

You want to. You want to so fucking badly.

Even with the voice in your head berating you, it still manages to give you some good advice, which is shut the fuck up and suffer through this on your own. Do you really want to drag Kate down with you? You’ve already done enough damage to every timeline you’ve stepped into far.

No. No, no, no! You don’t want to hear that right now!

You also don’t want to suffer alone. Who the fuck actually wants to suffer alone? Not even you can deny that, especially with Kate sitting before you, just waiting for you to continue. She’s patient, refusing to rush you.

Whatever you decide to do, you know she will take it. Not because she’s stupid or gullible, but because she’s Kate, so naturally trusting and empathetic and pure and amazing. That’s just who she is and one of the many reasons why you love her.

You may despise reality and this universe you live in, but there are rules—unspoken rules that were given to you along with your power. Naturally, you agreed with them, even feared what might happen if you broke them. You don’t know why you were ever scared of breaking those rules. You didn’t get punished when you told Chloe and Warren. All of the bad things that have happened so far were just cause and effect, chaos theory, butterfly effect, and other scientific bullshit you’ve stopped believing in long ago.

They were almost meant to be broken. They’re just rules on ethics, morality, what is wrong versus what is right, and after everything you’ve been through, how fucking dare reality tell you what to do.

You finally look Kate in the eyes and swallow the lump that’s been in your throat. “Kate?”

She looks at you expectantly. “Yeah?”

The voices—voices? Now there’s more than one?—deep in the back of your head scream at you not to do it. You’re better off not even trying. Kate will be better off as well, and you’ll lose nothing, because there are so many easy ways out.

You tell them to shut the fuck up already.

“I’m from the future.”

She blinks at you. Her eyes grow slightly wider, which is far from the reaction you were expecting. “Um…” She’s even patient enough to silently let you elaborate further.

Wow, you finally realize what you just said. All that build up really led you to what is probably the dumbest thing to ever come out of your mouth. How typical of you.

“Wait…” you mumble under your breath. Now you have no idea if the stupidity you let out is even accurate or not. “Past? I traveled back… then forward again… then…”

Now Kate is looking at you like you’re crazy, her eyes comparable to the rim of both of your long forgotten teacups. Now that's a closer to reaction to what you were expecting.

“The point is, Kate…” You shake your head clear and focus, ignoring the way your entire body is yelling at you. “I have the ability to travel through time. There’s so much more that you don’t know about me, really.”

After letting out a long exhale, the room becomes so quiet that you can almost hear the gears in Kate’s head cranking away furiously as she processes what she just heard. You wait patiently, allowing her all the time she needs, much like she did for you. This gives you time to mull things over. Explaining how you have time powers will always play out ridiculously, no matter how serious the circumstances are.

“That’s…” Kate finally says.

“Impossible?” you finish for her. The look on her face shows how unsure she is, not knowing whether she should agree or not. “I can explain, but… it’s a long, fucked up story.”

“Please,” she says simply.

And you do. You explain the whole story. You tell her everything that happened between you and Chloe, the truth about Rachel, Nathan and Jefferson, the storm and the choice you had to make between the life of your best friend or everyone in Arcadia Bay.

Kate remained relatively silent, which you are thankful for. Just thinking about the hell that was the month of October is something you have to steel yourself for. Chloe said that no matter what happens, the memories you and her made will be real and theirs. You really believed her at the time, and it pains you to admit that she was wrong. None of those memories actually matter in the grand scheme of things. What you truly want is way beyond these trivialities.

And if October was hell, everything that has happened after and in-between is the ice cold circle of treachery. Reliving these memories is the actual torture. You try to tell Kate the version that is easiest to digest, but there almost is none. You couldn’t live with the decision to let Chloe die, and when you changed your mind, the lives of everyone you sacrificed for one single person haunted you.

You tried your best. You were given a gift, and all you wanted was to do good with it. Everything you’ve ever done had good intentions, but all you were given in return was pain, loss and suffering. It wasn’t a gift. It was a curse. For what? Being selfish? Apparently bending reality to help a socially awkward hipster get through high school was selfish, now watch as your best friend and thousands of innocent people die.

That was when you decided.

Reality didn’t know shit about being selfish. You could be selfish, truly selfish. You’ll show them what selfish really means, and no one is going to die this time. Against all odds, no matter what they do to you, you will do the impossible and save everyone. Even if it means watching your friends die, failing timeline after timeline, and losing yourself in the process.

You will try over and over again until you reach the perfect timeline. Even if it means throwing away your own happiness for theirs.

Unfortunately, now is not the time to sound like a superhero. Reality is kicking your ass. You haven’t won once. You haven’t saved anyone. You’re not even Max Caulfield anymore—just an empty shell of your former self, riddled with pain and trauma. How can you sacrifice yourself when you’ve already lost?

“That’s not true.”

Your mouth, running like a robot with no soul or human emotion, stops in place. Kate looks at you with her eyebrows knit together, frowning. Is she… mad? Out of all the outcomes you were expecting from telling Kate the truth, anger was not one of them. You have to force your mouth shut with how speechless you’ve become.

“How is any of that true?” Kate spits out.

You thought maybe you could handle rejection, but when you take a breath to answer her, you’re shuddering. It racks your whole body, sends your mind reeling and unable to think. 

Can you blame her? No, not at all. Even as the most open-minded Christian you’ve ever met, time travel and alternate realities is where anyone would cross the line. Maybe she thinks you’re messing with her after she’s been nothing but nice to you. You would never do that. Deep down, you thought you knew Kate would always be supportive of you.

All you can do now is look down at your right hand.

Should you do it?

Kate doesn’t deserve that, but your heart is breaking into pieces and all it would take to fix it is to make sure it never happened in the first place.

“I-I… I’m sorry, Kate, I…”

You really are the worst.

“No!” she yells. It makes you flinch hard enough to give yourself whiplash. “You’re still Max! You haven’t changed a bit!” Kate hits the bed with a tiny fist, a small poof sound hanging in the air and then silence.

What?

Your right hand, shaking uncontrollably, manages to hold itself still.

“You… believe me? Everything I just told you?”

Kate leans in to look directly into your eyes and says, “Of course I do,” showing you that she has no reason to tell you anything but the truth.

The breath you didn’t even realize you’ve been holding, for God knows how long—or maybe you forgot how to breathe entirely—is strong enough to rival the storm itself.

“I know you wouldn’t lie about something like that,” she continues. “There are times where I question my own faith, but I’ve never stopped believing in you. Did you think I didn’t believe you? What made you think that—M-Max?!”

Your body acts before your mind can even keep up. You fall face-first into her lap. You squeeze your eyes shut, because something is stinging at the corners of them. Your shoulders tremble involuntarily, so you hold onto the other girl and grab fistfuls of her shirt. Your voice comes out muffled as you say, “I don’t deserve you, Kate,” over and over again. Even that proves to be difficult with the way your throat chokes on nothing.

She runs her fingers gently through the brown mop that is your hair, whispering kind words and shushing you like one would to comfort a baby. She didn’t have to do that, but you appreciate the kind gesture anyway. A monster like you shouldn’t be compared to the innocence of a crying baby—

You sniff your running nose and dry your face on Kate’s clothes without even thinking about it.

Holy shit, you are actually crying.

“You deserve so much, Max,” Kate says. “You’ve been through enough.”

Just hearing those words is enough to break the floodgates that has been holding everything in.

Kate joins you shortly after turning off the lights and closing the blinds. The sun still manages to peek into the hospital room, but at least you no longer have to look out the window anymore. You’re thankful for that.

You’re not sure how long you and her just laid there, together on the stiff, cramped bed. You cried the whole time, so it’s not like you could take a guess. Time was the last thing on your mind as she held you close to her chest, rubbing circles into your back with one and running her fingers through your hair with the other. She waited, always so patient, as your sobs steadied into sniffles and occasional hiccups.

Now, the two of you lay on your sides to look at each other. The old you would have definitely shied away at how close you and her are—too close to be considered friendly. It does surprise you how Kate doesn’t budge, even continuing to brush away any hair that falls over your face. You always forget just how strong and brave she can be. You, on the other hand, even with your endless amount of time and experience, still have a lot of work to do.

It does get a laugh out of you, knowing how red your eyes, nose, your whole face, must be. “I look great, don’t I?”

“Of course you do,” she giggles.

“I’m a mess.”

“Still pretty.”

Even with a compliment as simple as that, your face still manages to turn a shade darker with embarrassment. “Since when were you such a smooth talker?”

“You seem to bring out the best in me,” she says with a wink, and that almost makes you short circuit. She notices and laughs before letting out a tired sigh. “It’s not as easy as it looks, you know. It’s exhausting being this smooth. I’m trying my best here.”

Your cheeks start to hurt from laughing and smiling so much. 

“Look at you, Max.” Her hand lingers after she brushes hair behind your ear once more. She softly caresses right under your eye with her thumb, rubbing off any dried tears she spots. “I told you that you haven’t changed at all.”

She’s right. It almost feels nostalgic, being able to cry your eyes out and smile as hard as you can. If you were ever given the chance to go back to your old, hipster self, you would jump at the opportunity faster than the speed of light. Still, it’s not that simple, and it unfortunately never will be.

“Sorry to be a downer, but…” You’re already losing a bit of your smile, so you take hold of Kate’s wrist to keep yourself grounded. “I’m still a terrible person.” You’re no stranger to self-deprecating jokes, but you’re serious about that one.

“I’m not gonna sit here and pretend to know you, Max, but after everything you’ve told me,” Kate responds. “You’re still the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

You’re happy to hear that, but, “Even the nicest person has their limits. Even they need to let off some steam. The only difference between me and a normal person is that I can freaking time travel and undo whatever I regret.”

And that’s only the tip of the iceberg for you. There are still things hidden deep within that if you could, you would take to the grave. It only makes you think less of yourself every single time you ignore it.

“I killed them.”

You sit up and look away, not wanting to see the look on Kate’s face that you saw back then.

You remember sitting on the bathroom floor. Usually you could take it when reality pointed and laughed at yet another failure, but you had gotten so close that time. You snapped, and the rest was all a blur as hot tears and the color red filled your vision. You took the hammer meant for tripping the fire alarm and swung it at the back of Nathan’s head as hard as you could. Chloe screamed while you simply watched more red pour out of the hole you put in his skull. It only fueled your own red.

You proceeded to pick up Nathan’s gun off the ground and walked right back to Photography, where you shot Jefferson down. Your only regret was making it quick and painless for him. Victoria was screaming of course, and Kate was there too. You always forgot that she was his student aid.

You didn’t understand why they looked so scared. They should’ve been happy. You were happy. Why did Kate look so terrified of the person that just killed the source of all her problems?

You rewinded, of course.

But that’s not even the worst part. The thought that haunted you the most is the possibility of that timeline still existing. That version of you could still be out there, not remembering anything but forced to deal with the aftermath.

You stowed the thought away with the voices.

“That didn’t happen, Max. Nathan and Mr. Jefferson is alive.”

As if reading your mind and all of your doubts, Kate sits up with you and takes your chin between her thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at her. It was foolish of you to think Kate would end up being afraid or even agree with you. She’s better than that, and you feel stupid for being surprised.

“That doesn’t make it feel any less real,” you try to argue. You will always remember what Chloe told you.

“Mr. Jefferson is still free, and the storm is still coming, Max.”

Your hand that’s still on the other girl’s wrist had turned into a tight grip, you realize. You let go with a defeated sigh. That’s right. You still have a nightmare to get back to. Who knows? Maybe you’ll finally do it? Maybe all it took was some encouraging words from Kate and the return of your human emotions.

That’s wishful thinking, but it’s not like you have much of a choice.

Still, you’ve never been more grateful for this time you got to spend with Kate, and you need her to know that before you have to go.

“You’re right, Kate, I—”

When you look back at her, she has the most serious look you’ve ever seen on her face. It’s as if you can literally see the determination that crosses her eyes. You can’t seem to look away.

“How can I help?”

“What?”

No. That’s…

“I want to help you, Max.”

She can’t do that.

“I heard you the first time! I-It’s just…” Images of everything you’ve been through, everyone you’ve seen get hurt, all come to mind at once. Then you picture Kate as the center of reality’s attention, and… “No… It’s fine. I-I don’t need help.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “You can’t expect me to sit here and do nothing after everything you’ve told me.”

You think of Nathan and all the times he was killed in front of you, just because you want to help him. You think of Warren, who didn’t even have time to feel scared as Two Whales blew up with him inside. He just wanted to help too. Then there’s Chloe, and you know how much the universe hates her for no fucking reason.

Reality would not go easy on Kate. Not one bit.

“No, no, nonono, I can’t let you get involved! If you got hurt, I-I wouldn’t be able to handle it!” You remember how things went when you first decided to go down this path—all of the times you wept on the bathroom floor, holding back any screams that wanted to tear out of your throat, and your fingers digging into your own skin, just wanting to hurt something. “I can act all strong and unbreakable, but with you…!”

“Listen to me, Max”, she says, firmly taking hold of your shoulders. “This may be the last thing you want to hear from me right now, but I do believe everything happens for a reason—your powers, the storm, everything.”

You involuntarily scrunch up a bit just hearing that. Nothing good has happened since the moment you first dreamt of rain, wind and ethereal deer. You’re not a religious person, and you mean no disrespect, but if everything happens for a reason, then you’re fucking waiting to know why.

“Out of everyone in the world, I’m glad God, or whatever higher power I don’t know about, chose someone as strong and selfless as you to make things right.”

Selfless, huh? That’s the last word you would ever use to describe yourself. “It certainly doesn’t feel that way,” but if Kate feels that way, maybe she sees something you don’t.

She lets out a sigh. “They also chose the most stubborn.”

“Me?” you mumble.

She fixes you with a glare.

“It’s not like I can just go back on everything I’ve done. I’m in too deep,” you defend yourself.

She lets out a sigh and crosses her arms. “Seriously, it’s like you’ve never accepted help in your life. Just because we’re the ones that need saving and you have the superpowers, doesn’t mean the rest of us are useless.”

“That’s…!” Your body snaps up straight. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to figure out how to work again. “You can’t just put words into my mouth like that! That’s not what I think at all!”

Kate smiles, and it’s as genuine as it is smug. “I know. That’s just how someone as selfless as you would think.”

Selfless…

She got you there. You just sit there silently, wondering how such a person can think so highly of you.

“So please” Kate continues. “I don’t want to see you suffer anymore. If you accept help from others, you’ll be helping yourself too.”

She’s right. Kate is still here, alive, sitting right in front of you, because she accepted help. You may have been the one to lend her your hand, but she was the one strong enough to take it. It makes you proud just how much stronger she’s become. Her tired eyes and defeated expressions are an afterthought, long gone.

You never accepted the praise for talking her down from the roof because Kate was the one who deserved every bit of it. She helped herself, and you’re so glad that she did.

Maybe it is time to finally help yourself.

“Kate, I…”

You freeze.

Wait.

Her words repeat in your head over and over.

You’ll be helping yourself too. You’ll be helping yourself too. You’ll be helping yourself too.

Kate might be a genius...

Help yourself. Help yourself. Help yourself.

… Or you’re just the dumbest fucking person in the universe for looking too much into it, because you know for a fact that Kate did not mean it literally.

But you’re willing to take that chance.

You reach into the very back of your mind, the deepest darkest corner where you locked away the voices and every terrible thing you’ve done because you were too afraid to face them yourself.

They scream at you with all they have now that they’re finally out. It’s all your own voice, and they let you know clearly how mad they are and how much they hate you. In a way, you’re not that much different from them—angry and resentful. Maybe that’s who you truly were the whole time. They’re you, after all.

God, this is so confusing.

There’s only one difference between you and them, and it’s the reason why they hate you so much. You left them all behind. Every time you used your power to change the past, you created an alternate timeline, one that would inevitably end in death and destruction. But every unwanted timeline doesn’t end with you, and with every timeline you left, you left behind a Max that will continue to exist in a timeline that you ruined.

That’s the truth you tried to ignore and run away from for so long. All it did was complicate things. It made your goal of reaching the perfect timeline not as noble and fulfilling as you wanted it to be, so you ignored it. It was cruel, shallow and horrible of you. You understand completely why they hate you.

Eventually, the voices quiet down, and that’s when you know that it’s not too late. They know it too. Maybe they’ve been knowing, and that’s why they’ve been screaming for so long? You can still help them.

You can literally help yourself.

When you go back, this timeline will still exist. Kate will still know everything, and you will leave behind the Max that you were before—young, ignorant and blissfully unaware. If you could prevent her from becoming one of the voices to haunt you, you would without even hesitating.

Fuck reality, you come first.

“Kate, can I borrow a paper and pencil?” you blurt out.

“Uh.” Kate jumps to attention, having watched you lose yourself in your own mind the whole time. “Yeah, sure,” she says, reaching over to hand over what you asked for.

You can feel her eyes on you as you start writing on the paper.

“So… does this mean yes?” she asks after a few silent seconds of listening to the sound of pencil on paper. “You’ll let me help?”

You’re not ignoring her on purpose. You just can not lose your train of thought right now. When you finish, you hand her the pencil back and fold the paper up into fours.

“Yes,” you say, holding the piece of paper out for her to take. “I’m going to need your help with this one."

The way she smiles at you makes your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you find yourself feeling hopeful and a little bit confident. That’s new.

Kate takes the note from your hands. When you tell her not to read it yet, she nods and holds it close to her chest, clutching onto it like a lifeline but not daring to ruin it a single crease. “I would be happy to,” she says, and the determination on her face is even stronger than before.

You can’t help but stare at the way her hardened brows adorn her eager, sparkling eyes, or her firm smile that’s still wide and jovial. It’s such an intense look on her cute face. She looks like a rabbit that just entered a carrot eating contest, or an angel ready to learn how to use its wings for the first time.

Your right hand moves on its own accord, and when it lands gently on Kate’s cheek, you leave it there instead of pulling back with doubt. Kate reaches for your wrist, keeping your hand right where it is, pushing out any second thoughts you might have.

“This may not work,” you say.

She nods. “That’s okay.”

“If you get hurt, I’ll fuck up whichever higher power is responsible.”

“That’s sweet,” she laughs as she leans into your hand. “But I can handle it.”

You laugh too, but a frown is quick to replace your smile. “I’m sorry for leaving you part of my burden.”

“I’ll gladly help lift it off of your shoulders.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“Max Caulfield, you might be the sappiest person I’ve ever met,” she fires back with a smirk.

Not to be outdone, you lean in until her face and her lips become dangerously close to your own. Clearly, you didn’t think this through, suddenly realizing just what you are doing. You let out an um and change direction at the last second, planting a shy kiss on her cheek.

Just as you’re about to pull back, Kate wraps her arms around your neck and presses her lips right onto yours, pulling you down to the bed and on top of her. Her lips and everything about her is soft, and she kisses you for the first time like it’s the last time.

“I hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say.”

You sit on the bathroom floor once again. As you tune out the sound of Chloe and Nathan’s voices, Kate’s voice is the one you find yourself focusing on. What she said before you left plays in your head like it’s on repeat.

“You can do it, Max. No matter where you or I end up, I hope we’ll find each other again.”

The smile she gave you as the world around you shifted took your breath away—a combination of affection, satisfaction and heartache. What you’re feeling right now is similar, far from the anger, pain and hopelessness that comes with being in this stupid bathroom.

You open your diary and tuck the butterfly photo away, right next to a picture of the one you love sitting on a hospital bed, smiling peacefully as she draws. You turn to your right where the same butterfly is perched on the sink. Last time, and many times before, you wanted to grab it, crush it between your hands, stomp on its remains, and curse out whatever happened next as an effect.

You simply wave at it this time, hoping you’ll never have to see it again.

You reach out to the voices in your head to hear what they have to say. They’re oddly quiet, but you can still feel their overwhelming presence. They’re anxious. It’s like they’re holding their breath.

You don’t stick around long enough to hear the gunshot. For once, you welcome the feeling of dizzying, blurry shades of color taking over and reality pushing and shoving you through time and space. You’re already on your way.

Max, 

Hey, me.

I know for a fact that you would be into writing one those corny “letters to myself”. You’d write it on some pretentious paper that ages well and bury it in a time capsule, but no. This is literally a letter from yourself from the future.

Past? I still can’t tell.

Sorry, I don’t want to confuse you, so let me just get straight to the point.

Kate will explain everything. Listen to her.

I already feel like crap for giving her this burden. Now I’m giving it to you, and I’m sorry.

It’s selfish of me to ask you for help with this, but I don’t want you to become like me. Lost, tired, angry. Dead inside. I’ve already let so many other Maxes down, and I refuse to do the same for you.

Yeah, alternate realities are a thing, and I’ve ruined a whole bunch of them.

So please, help me never let it happen again.

The world is shitty and unfair, but it doesn’t have to be for you. If everything works out, consider yourself grateful that I went through hell so that you don’t have to. Lucky.

Say hi to Chloe and Rachel for me. (spoiler: she’s dead in your timeline, but I got you covered. don’t think I’m making you do ALL the work!)

And for the love of God, do not be afraid to give Kate a kiss for me. I miss her already.

Literally yours,

Max

You’re in a room you don’t recognize.

It’s surprisingly cozy and well decorated. The sun shines through a nearby window, and you get up on wobbly feet to open it and look outside. The first thing you notice is that you don’t recognize this neighborhood either. The second thing you notice is the lack of yellow, orange and red—just a pure blue sky, tall buildings, pigeons cooing and fresh air.

If this is the present, then so far, so good.

You spot your phone charging on a nightstand nearby, which is when the reality of your situation settles in. You’re almost too afraid to, but there’s nothing else left for you to do.

You check the date, and seven years have passed. Is that how long you’ve been doing this? You’re twenty-five now, yet you were only eighteen a moment ago. You brush it off because that’s just how time travel shit works. It’s the least of your concern right now.

Fuck texting. You need to hear their voices.

You call Chloe, counting down the rings.

“What’s up, Mad-Max?”

Chloe’s voice is loud and clear through the receiver, and it’s like you were punched in the gut with the way the wind is taken out of you. You ask her how she’s doing. She’s weirded out by such a question, but she’s good. Joyce is fine back in Arcadia Bay, which raises your eyebrows when you find out Chloe lives in California now. It doesn’t take long for you and her to start bantering back and forth like October 2013 was just a few days ago and nothing’s changed.

Suddenly, another voice demands your attention, trying to talk to you over Chloe’s yelling.

“Max, sweetie! How are you and—shut the fuck up, Chloe! I’m trying to talk to her!”

“Call her yourself then, dumbass!”

It’s Rachel. You have to cover your mouth to stifle your laughter and your grin.

You call Warren, and he’s the same as ever. For someone who praised himself on being invisible, he still kept in touch with almost everyone from Blackwell. Everyone you name—Stella, Alyssa, Justin, Dana, Juliet—Warren tells you what they’re up to. They’re all okay. It’s so much better than having to read their names off a list of fatalities.

When you ask about Brooke, his wife is doing great, he says.

You call Victoria.

“This must be important, Caulfield.”

You’re happy to hear that Taylor and Courtney are not only okay, but still Victoria’s closest friends and actually her friends, not just members of her entourage.

“Nathan?”

You hold your breath.

“He’s getting better.”

Victoria is happy to report that Nathan has been getting professional help, slowly but surely, staying as far away from his father as possible.

When it comes to Jefferson. You don’t even bother checking his whereabouts.

You sigh.

Why?

Why would you torture yourself like this? Maybe you’ve actually been a masochist this whole time, loving every bit of what reality put you through, but that can’t possibly be true. If it’s not, then why?

Why did you save Kate for last?

Your hands shake, fingers trembling, as you reach her contact. Her number is still on your phone, the optimistic part of you says. That doesn’t mean shit, the pessimistic side that you're so familiar with says.

You call her.

You held your breath for Chloe and Nathan. For Kate, and every ring you count down, it’s like your lungs are about to stop working entirely

“Hi—”

You cover your mouth to stifle the desperate inhale you take.

“Kate! Oh, my God, you—”

“—this is Kate. I’m not here right now, so, um, please leave a message.”

She’s… No, come on.

You call again.

“Hi, this is Kate. I’m not here right now, so, um, please leave a message.”

You call again.

“Hi, this is Kate. I’m not here right now—”

You call again.

“Hi, this is Kate—”

You call again and again.

There are over a thousand reasons why Kate wouldn’t answer. She could be busy. It’s as simple as that. She could have forgotten to take her phone off silent. Maybe you and her didn’t get along in this timeline, and she’s off doing her own thing. That’s… fine, totally fine.

As long as she isn’t…

Her phone could just be dead—

Just saying that word in your head almost makes you vomit.

After everything you’ve been through, is it such a surprise that you would jump to such a cruel, but real, possibility? There’s still social media you can stalk, an entire gallery in your phone to look through, seven years worth of texts to read through, for God’s sake, but you’re just so fucking scared.

The voices in your head are eerily silent, and that does nothing but add to your fear.

The possibility of finding yourself sitting on the tiles of the bathroom floor again, because Kate might be dead and it’s your fault for getting her involved, gets a visceral reaction out of you.

You resist the urge to scream, but you’re not sure if you can hold it in this time.

You scream.

You screamed and flinched at the sudden feeling of something touching your foot.

When you look down, you’re met with a fluffy, white ball of fur trying to climb up your leg. Your eyes widen. You recognize those black ears and the matching black spot on its eye anywhere.

“Alice…?”

You bend down to pick the rabbit up. She’s so much bigger than you remember. It’s almost a struggle to keep her in your arms with the way she scrambles around to reach your face, sniffing and pawing at it. Even with her whiskers tickling your face, you can’t smile or laugh right now. It’s as clear as day how frantic her movements are. Her paws on your face are insistent and demand your attention.

You stroke her ears back against her head. “What’s wrong, girl?”

When you put her down, she hops her way to the door, which you didn’t even realize was cracked open slightly. You get back up to follow her, and she guides you through what feels like a maze of house you’re in.

The reference isn’t lost on you. The rabbit you’re trotting after should be holding a chained watch and speaking in rhymes. As she starts hopping down the stairs, the thought of what you might see down there makes your heart pound through your ears.

You can’t help but think about Wonderland, and whether or not you’re being led to it.

The first thing you see isn’t a welcome one—shattered glass and liquid spilt on the floor. You scoop up Alice quickly as she gets close to it. Now that you’re up close, you can see the remains of what was once a teapot and matching tea cups, along with the smell you recognize instantly. The most alarming thing you find among the mess is a phone, sticky with tea and its screen cracked and pixelated when you turn it on.

You can’t even be relieved by such an unsettling sight.

The second thing you see is the light coming through the open door leading to the background. You’re not sure why the steps you take are so cautious and slow. After the emotional roller coaster you’ve been on for the past few minutes, you’re just not ready at all for what you think you might see next.

With Alice, finally calm in your arms, clutched close to your chest, you walk outside. It takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to how bright it is, but the voice that reaches your ears, along with the silhouette before growing closer and clearer, makes your eyes water in more ways than one.

“Ah, Max.”

She walks over and takes Alice from you, rubbing her face against the top of the rabbit’s head before settling her down to scurry off. That’s when she finally takes a good look at you, and concern is quick to take over her face.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You don’t even realize there are tears streaming down your face like a river. She reaches out to brush them away before doing the same to your hair, tucking it behind your ear, just like she did back in the hospital room. You can’t even speak. When you try, it’s just a breathless gasp that comes out of your mouth. You can’t think either. It’s like your whole body is malfunctioning.

You don’t even know how to process the idea that nothing is wrong and everything is okay.

It takes all of your willpower to not tackle Kate to the ground when you lunge forward and wrap your arms tightly around her. You bury your face into her neck, taking in her warmth, her smell, and the way her pulse beats against your quivering lips. It’s enough to make you sob, and you don’t care how much of an ugly crier you must be right now.

“Max…”

Kate eventually pulls away, and her smile is bright enough to blind you a second time. She stands back, much to your disappointment, and presses something into your hands.

You immediately recognize the piece of paper she gave to you, still folded up into fours, but with a few new additions of wrinkles and off-colored with age. You look back at Kate, which is when you finally take notice of the sweat on her forehead, the pile of dirt behind her, the shovel next to the hole Alice is now jumping in and out of it, and the dirt that covers her clothes.

“She—” you speak for the first time, shaky and weak, before you laugh and try again. “She seriously buried it?”

“You buried it, silly,” she giggles. “Come on, read it already. I didn’t drop everything I was doing to dig this up for nothing!”

“Literally?”

“Huh?”

“Your phone and an entire tea set is all over the floor inside.”

“Oh… shit,” she mumbles under breath, which makes you snort. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I just felt something telling me to bring this note back to you for some reason.”

That’s something you can’t explain either, but the last thing it will do is surprise you. You can travel through time. That, and the hundreds of side effects that come with it, is already unexplainable as is.

As you unfold the piece of paper, something falls out of it and lands at your feet. Kate picks it up and lets out an aw before handing it back to you. The polaroid photo in your hand has your face and Kate’s smiling at the camera. You recognize Kate’s pajamas and the background that is the hospital room, yet you don’t remember taking this picture.

You look back and forth between the girl in the photo and the girl in front of you. The differences are subtle. She didn’t get any taller, but her features are sharper, more mature, and the hair still piled into a bun on top of her head is much neater, with a few flyaways that frame her face perfectly.

Her smile is the exact same as you remember. It’s her, and the thought almost reduces you into tears again.

Written on the picture in black sharpie is, To me from the future. Turning back to the paper in your other hand, the note you wrote is still there. It’s been seven years, but only a few moments ago for you. Doodles of deer, rabbits and hearts now decorate it, and underneath your note is a second one you don’t recognize.

Max,

Hey, future-me!

If you’re reading this, that means we did it! YOU did it! None of this could have been possible without you specifically.

It was pretty confusing at first, but it felt like such an honor for you to reach out to me. After everything Kate told me, I knew I could not let you down. I may not know what you’ve been through, but who knows you better than yourself? Me, obviously! We’re literally the same person after all.

That means I know what you must be feeling right now. You feel like you don’t deserve this. You don’t know if you should be happy.

Please, for the love of God, be happy from now on, okay? I never thought I’d see the day where I can say that I am happy and actually believe it. I am happy. That means you have to be happy too. I didn’t work my ass off, pulling all these strings for nothing, alright?

And don’t you think for one second that you’re taking my place. This timeline shit may be fucked up and complicated, but it doesn’t have to be.

I can speak on behalf of all the other Maxes that you didn’t leave them behind. They forgive you. Now, they’re all happy too! This is what we all wanted. Trust me.

That is, if you can forgive yourself first, Max. We’re all one in the same.

P.S.

How dare you take me and Kate’s first kiss without my memory! That might be the only thing I’m mad about. Well, not anymore. I got over it. We’ve made up and out for it plenty!

Give her a kiss for me too!

Yours,

Max

You find yourself reading it over and over again. You read it until you physically can’t anymore, with the way your tears end up falling onto the paper, smudging the words together until they’re indecipherable.

You clutch the paper to your chest, and Kate laughs before she takes you into her arms.

It’s strange, not being able to feel the presence of their voices in the depths of your mind anymore. You can only hope that they’re gone, satisfied. Your shoulders are light and free, no longer dragged down with the weight of their worlds.

As for reality, who knows what they might be thinking right now, but they’re finally letting you live your own. You thank them. If they think you’re being ungrateful for one second, they might get all sensitive and do God knows what. That doesn’t mean you can’t still hate them, but they’re the last thing on your mind right now.

Kate.

“You did it, Max.” You hear Kate whisper into your ear, silencing all of the thoughts in your head. “Thank you so much.”

You don’t hesitate to kiss her like it’s the last time again.

You and Kate both know that it is far from the last time, and it will take the lifetime ahead of you for that to become true.