Chapter Text
November
There are so many thoughts in her head, yet not enough to fill the void stretching out through her senses. She can think - see Chloe's smiling face, hear her laugh, feel the messy patch of colored hair tickling her nose at night, yet she can't reach out for it all.
She's cursed; cursed to be an observer, trapped in her own head forever.
Her gaze finds Safi - and Safi, in all her seemingly eternal mischief, is already looking directly at her, almost as if to chide her for choosing to drown in her own sadness instead of sharing at least some of her burden.
"Penny for your thoughts?", Safi offers, eyebrows lifting expectantly and Max finds her curious expression so endearing that she cannot help but smile right back at her friend's face.
"Nice try, Safi."
Max almost sounds disappointed in herself.
She recoils, inwardly. Ever since leaving Arcadia Bay, she has found herself physically unable to talk about what happened. Chloe was there, for a time, but even her words made Max's ears ring, and the world turn into an echoing Hellscape. There has never been anyone she could turn to in earnest.
She wishes it could be Safi, though it most likely will not be her. Or anyone else, for that matter.
Safi only shrugs with her mischievous eyes and her slight smile.
Okay, Max, enough sulking. Her thoughts find a voice again and Max feels a little less like she's about to choke.
The world around her begins to pulsate to life again. Right. She's out drinking tonight.
A shot of vodka rests in front of her, one she doesn't recall ever ordering for herself. It's Safi's go-to, so she must have helped herself to ordering one for her friend. If she's being honest, she's also a bit too embarrassed to admit to spacing out once again, so she just takes it for what it is.
As Safi waves Amanda over, Max goes on to down the shot, willing her insides not to burn up and make her cough like a fool.
She fails. Go figure.
She chokes up on the alcohol and leans forward, vehemently coughing. Safi shows little sympathy, aside from a knowing grin, as she asks Amanda for another round.
"You sure she's up for this?", the bartender inquiries but Safi only waves her off.
"Trust me, this girl needs to take the edge off."
Max meets Amanda's eyes pleadingly; pleading for something, nothing in particular, though Amanda only pats her on the back before swaying back to the bar.
"Take the edge off?", Max asks, deadpan, once she regains the ability to breathe properly, "Off what? Do you want me to die tonight?"
"Don't sound so offended.", Safi quips back at her, leaning back in her seat. "Who knows, maybe hooking up with the bartender you're crushing on could help you think less gloomy thoughts."
Really? Do I look that desperate?
"Hell no, Safi." Max shoots back and puts her hands up, "We're cool, but not like this. Besides, hooking up is the last thing I wanna think about right now."
"So is it still about the blue-haired ex-girlfriend?"
"Yes." She breathes, instantly regretting the word. "I-I mean, no. Not really. It's just-"
"You know that living in your head is only going to get you so far, Max." I know. "Maybe letting loose and leaving a little room for new love, or something fun, might actually help you get over", she pauses, gesturing towards Max, "all that."
Max averts her eyes.
I know, I know, I know.
"It's really complicated."
"I bet.", Safi responds, voice suddenly very empathetic.
With a heavy heart, Max shakes her heavy head and smiles through the fractures in her mind. New love, or something fun, huh? She can't imagine actively pursuing someone when her mind is still tripping over itself willing Chloe back into her life. It never really stopped, it just numbed and melted into a sense of misery at the back of her mind.
She's done many things, even after breaking up with Chloe. She traveled, and took photos worthy of commendations and awards, but it was never truly enough to fill the void in her heart that her youth had carved into flesh.
"So, less invasive question.", Safi states, and Max snaps back, looking her friend in the face, doe-eyed, “You’ll still let me drink you under the table, right?”
Max chuckles at that and leans over the table to smack her friend in the forearm.
“You’re just trying to instill your bad habits on me.”
They smile at each other, and the mood finally shifts.
There’s a thud, and Max’s eyes snap open.
She wills herself out of her sleep-induced haze, willing the blurriness of her gaze into focus. Her heart speeds up, shivers ghosting over pale skin; she’s not quite sure where she is.
Her thoughts race as she takes in the unfamiliar darkness around her and her thoughts scream at her to get out. She feels the phantom of duct-tape on her wrists and ankles, the strain of movement against plastic, she feels her skin burn. Sweat begins to build up on her forehead and her vision goes blurry again.
Am I still dreaming? Her thoughts chime in. She hopes not. Her conscious dreams have a habit of turning into extremely unpleasant scenarios.
She reaches out with her right hand, eyes still refusing to paint a clear picture of her surroundings. Okay, no mystery restraints. You can move, Max, it’s okay. There is nothing but air, so she pulls herself together and sits up.
She finds herself sitting upright on her couch, in her own house. Almost instantly, the tension in her body drops off and Max forces out a shuddered breath. Alcohol always messes with her nerves, she knows. I shouldn’t have agreed to…
To what?
Her head snaps around and she is greeted by a very familiar face.
“Safi…” Max sighs her name and draws it out. It feels, oddly, good to see her first thing in the morning. She’s holding the side of her head, looking quite inconvenienced as she makes her way over to the couch again.
As if it’s routine, she slides under the covers next to Max and Max feels her breath hitch.
“Hit my head in the bathroom.”, Safi grumbles, her usual wit dulled by fatigue, sounding as unamused as she looks, “Going back to sleep now.”
“Right.”, Max finds herself responding as her friend cuddles up against the back of the couch. It looks uncomfortable. She smiles despite herself as she scoots further towards the edge, leaving some room for Safi to slot herself into a comfortable position.
They don’t usually do this – sleeping over. Usually, they drink and do their thing, play their games, laugh their laughs or muse about photography, poetry; only the finest arts – but they don’t cuddle up together on a couch and fall asleep.
She looks around, not feeling any sorer than she always does in the morning, though exhaustion keeps nibbling away at her consciousness. There’s whisky on the table, two glasses, one knocked over. The fireplace across from them still glimmers in a soft shade of orange, and cameras lie scattered across the table.
Safi had asked about some of those models, wanting to buy a camera for herself. “To capture moments like these.” And Max had looked at her with wide eyes. The last time someone had taken a photo of her was…
Her thoughts had trailed off then, as they do right now, too.
That was when Safi had leaned back into the couch, as had Max. They exchanged few words, and eventually must have passed out.
Max glances at her friend’s sleeping form and sinks into her thoughts. Spending her time with Safi feels so natural these days, there’s barely anything she really does without her.
When self-doubt glazes over Max’s eyes, Safi reprimands, warns, encourages. She suggests, laughs, teases, even when Max can only sit and stare into the void in her own head. She’s so sad, so heartbroken; and Safi doesn’t ask, only nods, and hugs, and spreads her warmth.
A warmth Max had forgotten about until the day they met. A warmth that Chloe had first brought into her life, before ripping it away again the day she left.
Max groans. It’s not that I don’t understand why you did it, Chloe. I’m a mess.
She continues musing about her life for a while before finally deciding to let the moment go. She lets the seconds sweep away these strained feelings of bitter nostalgia.
Sometimes, focusing on the passing of time still makes her nauseous, makes her remember tugging at the strings of reality itself as she lets it all tick by. Though, in the end, it’s always just her and all the little moments she never wanted to let go, and the inquisitive voice in her head that tells her to try again, try rewinding time just one more time.
She never does.
For a while longer, she watches her friend rest before realizing that she probably shouldn’t be doing so. She tears her gaze off, her thoughts rambling something about finally getting a candid of Safi.
It’s not a good idea to tempt her head into making up inappropriate scenarios about someone she would like to call her best friend. Max shakes her head, feeling very self-conscious all of a sudden.
The scene is too familiar, too close.
She gets up, restless legs carrying her over into her kitchen corner as she moves to brew herself some tea.
“Safi?”, Max stares at her friend, slightly confused, very much surprised.
“The one and only.”, Safi replies casually, holding up her hand with a dramatic gesture, “I am here to pick you up for dinner.”
Max’s face falls at that and she raises her eyebrows. They look at each other for a short, tense moment before Max finds it in herself to answer.
“Aren’t you spending the holidays with your mom?”
Safi doesn’t break the eye contact, still holding up her hand with an expectant look. She lets her fingers twirl in the air. “So? I won’t be held responsible for leaving you in your womancave. On your own.”
Max laughs, despite herself. “So, I’m having dinner with my boss and her daughter? Don’t you think I should-“ Safi interrupts her by swiftly grabbing Max’s hand, pushing into her apartment and pulling the older woman with her. They swiftly find their way upstairs.
“Come on, get ready. I’m positive your boss hates tardy guests.”
“Are you serious?”, Max asks once again, unsure about her own reaction. They had met the previous few days on campus and Max had told her about not going home for Thanksgiving. They’d spoken about Max joining them for dinner, but she wasn’t expecting Safi to actually show up at her door.
“I’m always serious.”
Max breathes out a tentative, nervous laugh. She loves her job, she adores Yasmine and Safi is a no-brainer in the equation, but it’s been literal years since she spent the holidays with someone else. At a real home, having a real dinner.
She feels her face light up, nevertheless.
“Not taking ‘no’ for an answer, by the way.”, Safi adds with a shrug.
I know, Max’s mind chimes in and she nods to herself. That’s not so bad.
She rummages through her drawers, wondering about the level of formality she should be applying to her outfit. One glance at Safi, dressed in jeans and a dress-shirt tells her that she should at least try to look a little more refined than usual.
Max clicks her tongue as she pulls something suitable out of her mess of clothes. She thinks; hopes.
She turns to look at her friend.
“So, you’re just watching me while I get dressed?”, is the only thing coming out of her mouth, the grin on her face creeps into the corners of her cheeks. She doesn’t blush, she knows, but her heart still falters at Safi’s unchangingly smug expression.
“I thought you were into that.”, comes the reply.
Scratch that, Max does blush, but quickly decides to turn away and walk off to her bathroom. Flirtations are not a good idea, still.
“I dare you to kiss me.”, Chloe says, looking at Max with an unreadable expression.
“What?”, Max hears herself reply.
“I double dare you; kiss me now.”
Silence. Heartbeats. Many, many, heartbeats, speeding up the longer Max stands and thinks. Fuck it, she thinks, steps across, hands on Chloe’s shoulders and-
there’s nothing left.
Max snaps out of it, her head throbbing, hammering even.
There’s nothing in her hands, and the sun doesn’t shine through the dusty windows of the Price household anymore. She’s not about to change into Rachel Amber’s leftover clothes after kissing her best friend.
She’s resting against Safi’s back instead. The realization isn’t nearly as disappointing as she’d expected it to be.
“Guess my mom overdid it with the wine.”, Safi muses over her shoulder, her arms moving slightly as Max guesses she’s fiddling with her phone. “At least she didn’t ask about grandkids.”
Max sighs against Safi’s back; “Not mine, anyway.”
She thinks back to their dinner, just the three of them sitting at a huge live edge dining table. There was way too much food, and Yasmine kept pouring Max glass after glass of wine until she got so red in the face that Safi intervened and asked her to go lay down.
It was good, though. Good food and even better company.
She’s currently propped up against her friend from behind, resting on the couch. A lamp hangs low over their heads, swaying from side to side as it bathes the room in a comfortably yellow light.
The wine is still buzzing in her head, making everything appear a little out of focus.
“Are you feeling okay?”, Safi asks in a pleasant tone.
Max nods.
There’s nothing in this moment to make her not okay. Not even her flashbacks of Chloe rattle her too deeply. It happens often, in her dreams, sometimes even when she’s awake. It’s been like this for years – her head fills up with memories, forces her to relive situations that had left an impression on her.
It’s gotten easier to manage over time.
“You just looove zoning out on me.” – Safi puts her phone down, shifting around to face Max. She helps the older woman readjust, resting her head against Safi’s shins.
“What can I say?”, Max mumbles, “That’s me.”
“Miss Caulfield, professional out-zoner and mom-bewitcher.”, Safi muses, “Aren’t you at least a little embarrassed you got drunk at my mom’s place?”
“Not yet.”
They snicker among themselves quietly.
“I guess that’s fair. She made you drink in the first place.”
Between half-closed eyelids, Max smiles and listens to her friend’s voice. It’s soft in her ears, dancing around her head. “Maybe she wants to get down and dirty with me.”
“I dare you to kiss me.”
What?
She’s not thinking straight; clearly. Her reactions are too delayed to properly display her own embarrassment in time. Safi leans over, her head directly above Max’s face as she shoots a scandalized look downwards. “Max! That’s my mom! Also, how dare you?”
“Sorry.”
Safi still looks down at her, obviously toying with a few different things to say in her mind. She settles on something rather unconventional.
“You always had a way with moms?”
Max’s mind snaps to pictures of Joyce. What a wonderful woman; good-hearted and well-meaning. She always knew how to get to Max with only the use of compassion and good food.
“Chloe did have a great mom.”
Meeting Safi’s gaze suddenly makes her blood run cold. Max catches herself beginning to falter, her heart beating a few beats faster. Oh, shit.
To Max’s surprise, Safi decides not to press, and instead she runs a hand through her friend’s hair, offering a smile. Fingernails scratch against her scalp and Max almost lets out a sigh of relief. It feels good to just be touched again.
She’s very okay right now.