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It starts like this: Chloe meets another lost soul with pretty hazel eyes and their sparks set the forest ablaze.
A chance meeting evolves into a new adventure and suddenly, two lost souls become found within each other. Rachel, as Chloe comes to learn, has a familiar sort of wit about her. She’s sly and mischievous, too smart for her own good. She reminds Chloe of someone long gone.
They work well with one another—dancing around each other with a grace that leaves Chloe breathless every time they meet. Rachel has this way about her—this control of herself—that has Chloe feeling lucky to be by her side.
Rachel harbors an eternal flame inside her chest. She lit one inside of Chloe as well.
It becomes routine, sneaking in through Rachel’s window at night, and waking up to “Stella By Starlight” in the morning. Piano reverberates from the bedside radio. An arm is thrown over her bare stomach.
“You know this song?” Rachel asked once, the morning after their first time. She buried her face into Chloe’s neck and peppered soft kisses over purple bruises.
“A friend of mine had similar taste,” Chloe dragged a dusty memory to the surface, “I think you would’ve liked her.”
“What happened to her?”
To that Chloe only shrugs. It’s the response that hurts the least.
They don’t talk about Max much, but when they do Chloe can almost see Rachel’s eyes flash that familiar light blue. She blinks and they’re back to normal again. She tries to shake it off when she can, but it’s hard not to notice their similarities. It’s harder not to miss Max the more time she spends with Rachel.
She’s a natural model, her flair for the dramatic only makes the lens of a camera seek her more. Chloe can almost hear the shutter of her father’s old instant camera—when she closes her eyes she can almost see Max’s fingers twitch with the urge to snap a photo. Instead, it’s Chloe that takes the photos. She’s nowhere as good as Max but she doesn’t need to be. Rachel shines in front of a camera. It’s impossible to take a bad photo of her.
They make a home with each other. Somewhere they can go where no one’s expectations can hold them down. Chloe pins the pictures up on the walls of that junkyard home until there’s no more room to do so. She finds herself sleeping there sometimes—David moves in and suddenly her space is no longer her own. She drags in an old mattress and some pillows and blankets. The disquieting sounds of the junkyard after dark start to bother her less and less as the days go by.
Most of the time she crashes in Rachel’s bed. It helps, the feeling of Rachel holding her together as she tries not to fall apart. It doesn’t take too long for Chloe to start giving her trust to Rachel. It’s something she hasn’t done in a long time, but with Rachel, it feels right.
With Rachel, she feels right.
They’re twin flames, partners in crime. Rachel is Chloe’s everything. Rachel is Chloe’s love. Rachel is Chloe’s angel. The sound of Rachel’s voice—honey sweet, just like her—breathes new life into Chloe in a way nothing has been able to do since loss made her its victim. When Rachel laughs it’s like everything else disappears. She’s truly one of a kind.
In her dreams, Chloe sees a lot of things. She can see their flames intertwining with each other—Rachel’s a strong, vibrant orange, and Chloe’s a calm, powerful blue. She sees Max in a flannel that doesn’t belong to her—no, Rachel with hair a few shades too dark. They blur together in her dreams and she forces them apart every time.
She sees her father, and every glimpse is more agonizing than the last. She tries to ignore his warnings about how fire blinds with beauty.
Chloe isn’t blind. She was blind after he died, after Max left. Blinded by rage and sorrow. Blinded by her own self-pity. She was sifting through a gray nothingness waiting for an ending until Rachel came along.
Now, for the first time in forever, she thinks she might actually be seeing clearly. She feels more like herself every time her eyes meet Rachel’s, every time orange fire meets blue. It scares her but it can’t be denied that Rachel brought her back to life.
Chloe blinks awake, her gaze falling to the arm wrapped tightly around her waist. The sunrise peaks through the curtains and the light almost makes Rachel seem like she’s glowing. It’s a double-edged sword—the sight of this girl cuddled up to Chloe’s side, a serene smile on her face.
She’s special, any idiot could see that. That smile keeps digging deeper and deeper into Chloe’s bones the more they see each other. It’s intoxicating how Rachel has integrated herself into Chloe’s being—the way she holds onto Chloe as if she needs her.
It’s intoxicating and yet it hurts. Rachel holds her as if she wants to stay, but no one has ever stayed before. Chloe tightens her arms around her angel while she can. She breathes in the soft scent of vanilla and watches the rise and fall of Rachel’s chest. This isn’t the first time she’s held someone like this in bed—someone who makes her feel this way. With Max, it was innocent, tentative even. Now it’s anything but, and Max is only a ghost.
The thumping of Rachel’s heartbeat makes her own feel twice as powerful. Almost as if they’re calling to each other. Chloe feels alive. She feels real in a way she hasn’t for years.
I’m almost me again, Max. Chloe lets out a shaky breath, looking down at a mess of hair. For a moment and just a moment, it’s a rich brunette color, all too familiar, then Chloe blinks, and it’s honey blonde once more. She’s almost you.
It continues like this: Chloe tries to play the hero in the Blackwell parking lot and reunites with a ghost from her past.
A chance meeting evolves into sparks of hope. Hope that she won’t be alone anymore. Hope that her color might come back. Hope that Max could make her feel alive again.
They fall back into a rhythm almost as if Max never left. It’s calm, but Chloe can tell Max is treading carefully around her, justifiably so. It takes everything in her not to explode when Max’s curiosity gets the better of her—when Max discovers Chloe’s angel.
“She’s beautiful,” Max holds the photos gently as if too much pressure would shatter them. It wouldn’t, the photos would be fine. It’s Chloe that might shatter under the pressure of Max’s gaze. There’s an unspoken question there. Max’s curiosity hasn’t been satiated. She hasn’t been burned by Chloe’s knee-jerk reaction of yelling. She wants to know more.
“Rachel was my angel,” Chloe holds the photo, grasping at a memory of soft hands and softer lips. “I think you would’ve liked her.”
“What happened to her?”
Chloe only shrugs. It’s the response that hurts the least.
When Max reveals her powers—puts all of her trust into Chloe—that hope sparks up again. Chloe’s angel is missing and the universe has given them a chance to find her. That hope lights a gentle blue fire inside of her that she thought was dead. It longs for its twin, its vibrant orange counterpart, and with Max’s help maybe the two flames could burn together again.
Some force out there stuffed a god-like power inside an all too nervous girl, and Chloe can’t help but think that it suits her. Max stands taller and speaks with more boldness than Chloe can remember her ever having before. It reminds Chloe of someone she misses dearly. The dry wit in her tone and the confidence that Max is growing into feel all too familiar.
Chloe can almost feel the warmth of Rachel’s fire next to her as they investigate around Arcadia Bay, but every time she looks over it’s Max’s kind expression that looks back at her. With Max, Chloe smiles again— really smiles —for the first time since Rachel disappeared. It’s hard trying to stay mad at Max when she’s using her power only to make Chloe happy. It’s almost like she cares, though that’s hard to believe after five years of silence. She seems genuine—Max has always been a shitty liar—but still, Chloe hesitates to give her the trust she’s so desperately trying to earn back.
It starts to feel natural all too quickly, Max in the passenger's side of her truck. She hums to all the songs that Rachel loved. If Chloe closes her eyes she can almost imagine it’s her twin flame humming beside her, but she keeps her eyes on the road. Keeps the image of Max beside her.
Max becomes a superhero almost overnight. She uses her power to save a life and soothes Chloe’s regrets of giving her shit for taking Kate’s call. Every moment that passes has Chloe’s resolve wavering more and more. She wants to trust Max again, there’s no reason she shouldn’t. It’s been proven time and time again how much she means to Max.
Max sees death staring Chloe in the face and she refuses it. She squares her shoulders and becomes an immovable force. She defies nature, grasps fate in the palm of her hands and makes it her bitch. It makes butterflies erupt in Chloe’s chest. They intertwine with her flame that rages on. Despite it having every reason to go out, Max’s hope makes it burn brighter. Chloe hopes they’re going to find Rachel. She hopes Max won’t stop defying fate until everything is okay again.
They’re a perfect team, partners in time. Max is Chloe’s savior. Max is Chloe’s music. Max is Chloe’s light. She makes Chloe feel again after she thought herself numb. Chloe believes in her, Chloe needs her. It’s scary in a way that Chloe didn’t think possible.
No one ever stays, but this time she hopes that Max will.
Chloe knows all too well what it’s like to lose people. Losing Rachel fundamentally broke her in a way she’s not sure she’ll ever recover from. And she knows what it’s like to lose Max. She doesn’t know if she could go through that again.
They break into Blackwell together like a well-oiled machine and when Chloe decides they should have a little fun afterward, Max doesn’t put up too much of a fight against the idea. She teases Max with the question of girls or boys as if she hasn’t caught on to the way Max watches her. As if she hasn’t been watching Max the same way.
She wishes Rachel were here to blind her.
There’s a conflict inside of her. Chloe doesn’t see her father in her dreams anymore, only a storm much bigger than Rachel’s wildfire, and the angel in question reaching a hand out to her. It takes everything in her not to take it—not to give up. She still has too much to live for. She still has Max.
When she wakes it’s with her light in her arms, gentle breaths tickling at her jaw. It makes the butterflies erupt again, swirling around in the sparks of hope Max ignites in her. She can almost feel them get caught in her throat.
When Max kisses her it’s nothing but a peck, and yet it makes Chloe’s heart stutter all the same. Max’s chuckle is confident and Chloe’s is real.
I laugh like me again, Rach. Something shifts between them but Chloe can’t bring herself to dread the coming change, not when she’s caught up in her own soft smile and laughter, and the sight of Max in Rachel’s flannel, giggling right along with her with flushed cheeks. She laughs like you.