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The camera exploded like a damn flash bomb. The next thing Max knew, the wind was knocked out of her. She was stumbling, disoriented, feeling nauseous and confused. Then, an arm was around her; someone was helping her, and a pair of hands were interlocked.
"Max, I've got you," Chloe said, firm and secure.
Max's vision came back in blotches; she saw splashes of blue and black before finally seeing her standing there. Max just stared back, utterly bewildered, no words coming to mind. Chloe's expression looked so much... gentler than it did five minutes ago.
"Um," Max started, but her voice was barely louder than a whisper. "Did I... did I pass out again?"
Chloe bit her lip.
"Not exactly," she responded quietly, brushing the hair away from Max's eyes. Max suddenly felt something drip down her face and onto her lips, something wet and quick. Her hand reached out to touch it, and she looked, expecting to see bright red -- but there was nothing.
Water.
She licked her lips, immediately tasting salt. She was crying. She had been crying.
"I'm..." she trailed off. What was she? What was happening?
Chloe let go of Max's hands, instead placing her own around Max's waist to pull her up from the ground they were kneeling on. No blood. No nosebleed. Nothing.
"It's okay, Max. You're okay. We're okay. We'll be fine," Chloe repeated in a soft voice. Max wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince anymore. "We, uh. We gotta bounce. Now."
"No..." Max replied, shaking her head weakly. She did want to listen to Chloe, but she couldn’t let one of her brain-fucks just mess up all their plans. Again. She opened her mouth to explain that to Chloe, because at that point, the only thing that mattered was honesty -- there was enough fucked up shit going on in their lives, there were already enough white lies in this goddamn town –- but her voice didn’t work. She cleared her throat and tried again. "We have to..."
Chloe just watched Max, eyes heavy, lips parted. Then she shook her head fiercely and patted Max’s back, harder than probably intended. "Yeah. No. Max, we need to leave now."
Max frowned. She tried to take a few steps just to prove to Chloe that she was alright, but Chloe wouldn’t let go of her arm, her eyes going wide and panicked when Max only stumbled forwards. She tried to ignore the dizziness and feign some sort of stability. "I'm fine. Don’t worry about this.”
"Okay, uh, okay."
Max hadn’t seen Chloe that nervous in a while. She looked like she did when they’d spilled wine all over her parents carpet all those years ago -- like she was briefly thinking about running super far and never looking back. She knew she had to fix it, she knew she had to clean up that mess, she knew she’d get in trouble if she just left it -– but it was that moment before making a decision when she just stood there, watching everything go to shit.
Seeing that face almost immediately made Max want to rewind, but even thinking about time gave her enough of a headache to suddenly tear her eyes away from Chloe and grab her head in her hands.
"Shit," Chloe hissed. She must've decided fixing the problem was better in this situation, too, even if it was going to take some time. “I’m going to explain what’s going on, and you just-- you just have to trust me on this, Max. Okay? We need to get back to my place first, but you'll believe me. I know you will."
Max nodded her head. Not only was that the least she could do, it was the most too. She could barely even process her own thoughts, but all she knew was that she was there, Chloe was there, they were both there and they were both together.
"Where's... where's Warren?" Max took a look around, wondering if she had just imagined him -– but… No, he was there. They took a picture together, right before the party. But he was gone now. Max felt her stomach lurch.
"He's fine, Max." Chloe gave Max's hand a tug, and Max followed in the direction Chloe was taking her.
"But the party. And... and Nathan. We have to... find Nathan." Chloe didn't say anything in response, she just kept walking, grip on Max's hand tight. Max wiped her face to dry the tears, the wind against her wet cheeks chilling her. Chloe was scowling now.
"I'm getting freaked out, Chloe--"
"I'll tell you, okay?"
She didn't let go of Max's hand until they reached Chloe's car, and even then she opened and closed the car door for her.
It was so cold. Max felt so cold.
When they arrived in the parking lot earlier, Max was filled with fire. She was so damn angry. They were there for revenge. They were there for justice. They were there for Kate, for Rachel, and for everybody else who suffered because of Nathan. And Max was there for Chloe. She was burning with a passion, fueled by disgust and outrage, and of course she didn't like it but what the fuck else could she feel? She’d been consoling her heartbroken best friend for the past few hours. Nobody should’ve had to feel the way Chloe felt. They’d uncovered a bunker full of cameras and drugs and sick photographs. They’d flicked through them, couldn’t do anything but look at them, look at the images of their friends tied up and hurt. And they’d dug up a dead body with their bare fucking hands. Arcadia Bay was unholy and nobody was repenting. Max was burning.
But now there was nothing. An emptiness. The candle snuffed. Something gone. Missing. Like Rachel. Dead.
Max stared at Chloe hard.
“You used the photo, Max,” Chloe said simply, like it was nothing, like it was only the beginning of a much worse story. Max wasn’t sure at first why those simple words seemed significant in a way she couldn't fully comprehend.
“The photo?” Max repeated quietly. Chloe nodded her head and sighed. She fidgeted in her seat, bothered.
“You really don't remember, huh,” she mumbled. She wasn't looking at Max. “Well, yeah. You traveled back in time through a photo.”
Max felt very sick all of a sudden. Her face burned red-hot, hearing going fuzzy.
“Hey! Don't do that!” Chloe snapped when Max tried to grab the door handle. She didn’t even mean. Panic was rising.
"I, I--" Max stuttered, her hand falling from the door, her fingers trembling. "What happened? How do you know? Oh, Chloe..."
"Forget about that, dude, the details don't matter now, but you told me--" Chloe paused. She twisted around in her seat and took Max's arm, trying to get Max to look her in the eye before she continued quietly. "You told me some fucked up shit, Max. If we go into that party, your, uh. That... Jesus."
Max watched Chloe trip over her words, speechless.
"Mark Jefferson," Chloe spat finally. "He killed Prescott. And me. He killed me and he-- he took you, to the fucking Dark Room, Max. The fucking Dark Room was his. And-- and you were trapped down there, and you got out, and somehow you fucking--"
"I used the photo... Oh, Chloe, you died again,” Max whispered, her voice breaking. She didn't even think about the words 'Mark Jefferson', all she could see in her head was Chloe dying. Chloe, being shot in the stomach by Nathan. Chloe, shooting herself in the chest. Chloe, two seconds away from being crushed by a locomotive.
"Hey, no, I’m here. Breathing. My life saved, as fucking usual. So don’t- don’t torture yourself over that, okay? We've got to tell, uh, David. Now. That's what you told me."
"I told you," Max repeated quietly.
"Fucking... fucking Jefferson, of all fucking people. He... God, Max. I'm sorry."
"Why?" Max asked breathily, tears appearing out of nowhere.
"He was the fucking creep, he was your fucking teacher, he captured you and--"
"No."
Chloe turned her head sharply.
"He didn't... capture me. Not me. Shit. I really fucked up, didn't I?" Max was shaking as she spoke. "I didn't even think about this. I just jumped through the photos thinking there'd be no consequence, didn't I?"
"This isn't your fault," Chloe was quick to say. She frowned. "What the fuck are you even saying, Max?"
"Jefferson’s not my fault,” Max replied, her voice shaky and unlike her. “But everything else is. I thought… I fucking thought..."
"Max, I can’t deal with this right now and you can’t either, so let’s just get going, okay?"
"I'm not Max."
“Uh,” Max stuttered after catching Chloe’s perplexed expression. “I mean. If I went back through the photo, then I’m, like. Past-Max. It’s just. It’s weird,” she explained, pulling a hand through her hair. Chloe had this dejected look on her face while she chewed on her lip, seeing it made Max wince. But then Chloe blinked, and obviously found the right thing to say, because suddenly she looked like herself again.
“Hella fucking strange, I know,” she touched Max’s shoulder. “But you’re not Past-Max. You’re Now-Max. This is happening right now, you know? It’s me who should be freaked out,” she laughed, a nervous sound. “I just talked to Max from the future.”
Max didn’t say anything back because she really didn’t want to argue with Chloe. She appreciated what Chloe was trying to do, so she just sighed. Chloe’s hand lingered on Max’s shoulder before she took it away in an awkward manner, the silence obviously making her uncomfortable.
“You’re a superhero, right? Going back in time to save our asses. C’mon, cheer up,” Chloe chuckled, raising an eyebrow at Max’s worried expression. Max looked down.
Chloe let out a long-suffering sigh.
“I’m sorry, it’s whatever. Rescuing the damsel in distress is a pain. I get it. Let’s hit the road,” she muttered.
“Chloe,” Max said quietly, stung by Chloe’s words.
“It’s fine.”
“That’s not what I’m thinking,” Max said. Max had a lot of thoughts in her head but none of them were similar to what Chloe just said. “You’re not--” she started, then stopped herself, unsure of where she was going. She felt like she was treading on thin ice. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again.
“You don’t burden me, I’m not-- I’m not complaining about you. It’s not your fault, none of this is. I know we fuck up, and I know it feels like everything is falling apart, but I don’t…” Max trailed off, looking outside. “As long as you’re here with me, I don’t care about that. I don’t care about any of that. I only care about saving you. Isn’t that obvious?”
Chloe looked at Max like she wanted to believe her.
A thousand thoughts probably ran through Chloe's mind there and then, but Max had no idea what they were, her shifting and conflicting facial expression left her clueless. She opened her mouth, and this tiny weird noise escaped, a little vulnerable squeak that didn’t sound like Chloe Price at all. Max wanted her to say something, to say anything, she waited desperately while Chloe looked like she was battling with her own head.
Finally, Chloe sighed and looked back up at Max again, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Alright, Mario,” she joked, and of course Chloe would choose to try and lighten the mood in a situation like that. Max couldn’t even smile back at her, though, because Chloe sounded like she was on the verge of tears.
“You have to believe me,” Max said softly. Chloe looked startled by her words, but then she just nodded her head and pressed her lips together.
Chloe started up the truck.
They drove home, under the light of two moons.
--
Red-rimmed eyes illuminated by fluorescent bathroom light stared back at Max in the mirror.
She looked dead.
Chloe was leaning over the sink, crying. Again. Her soft sobs echo through the room.
Max knew she was taking too long. She had to come and join her to make sure she hadn’t done something... bad. And it could have been worse, but it could’ve been a lot better.
Max walked over to her, trying not to wince when her bare feet touched the freezing cold tiles.
Chloe startled when Max touched her arm, but when she caught a glimpse of Max in the reflection, she only slumped her shoulders and resumed her crying silently. Unsure of what else to do, Max brought her other hand around so she was holding Chloe from behind. She went still, but Max could still feel her body shaking every time a sob tried to escape.
She was so raw. She’d been completely stripped down now, burned by the acidity of the truth, the harsh realization of reality completely decimating any kind of protective barrier she’d built up from nothing. And she never cried. Never.
When she was thirteen and Max was twelve and she rode her bike into a wall, trying to impress Max by going way too fast down a hill -- Max was the one crying her eyes out while Chloe brushed herself off and scoffed, ‘It’s only a scratch!’. Max thought of younger Chloe then, blonde hair whipping in the wind as she picked herself up off of her feet and scowled at her bloody kneecaps. Shit happens.
Chloe was always one to pick scabs. Max wondered if she still had scars.
The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t comforting either. Max wanted Chloe to say something but was ultimately too scared to hear what she’d say.
She reached over and turned on the tap, waited until it was a decent temperature, then brought her and Chloe’s hands into the steady stream of water. Chloe looked up again at that, her reddened eyes going softer. Max didn’t want Chloe to thank her, or say anything for that matter, so she was grateful when Chloe just smiled weakly.
She rubbed a bar of soap between Chloe’s hands, stealing some of the bubbles in the process, and they stayed like that for a little while. Washing their hands and looking at each other in the mirror.
‘What a mess,’ Max felt like saying; talking about her hands, talking about the two of them, talking about their lives -- but she didn’t. She didn’t say anything.
Dirt washed away but Max knew it would remain embedded under their nails for a while.
At least Chloe had nail polish to hide it; Max would just have to avoid looking at her hands for a little while if she didn’t want to be reminded of that day. But that’s all everyone had been doing, really, wasn’t it? Ignoring things. Ignoring that. Max forced herself to think the words. It was only respectful.
Rachel Amber.
If two stupid kids could find her, why couldn’t anybody else? How was it only Max and Chloe who could see the connection? Did anybody even want to see the connection? Who would grieve her on this night bar Chloe? She’d been so popular, God, the way kids at Blackwell talked about her - it was like she had it all. Max had been jealous of her.
Thinking about this made Max shudder with guilt, and she pulled her hands away.
Max had been jealous of a dead girl who everybody said they loved but didn’t care enough to find. Everybody had been so quick to dismiss the possibility of something terrible, something morbid going on in Arcadia Bay, everybody thought she’d just run off to L.A. And if she did, Max wouldn’t blame her.
But that’s not what happened. Rachel Amber was murdered. By Nathan Prescott, and thanks to Mark Jefferson.
Max’s ‘favorite’ teacher. The teacher she’d drawn hearts beside when writing about him in her journal, the teacher that she’d tell people she was moving to Arcadia Bay for, the teacher whose work she’d gushed over-- that Mark Jefferson. He dug Rachel a shallow grave and dumped her in it -- and there Chloe was, trying so hard to find her, trying so hard to understand, she just had to understand but
dead.
“Let’s go to bed,” Chloe said. Max felt nauseous and dizzy and light-headed but she was willing to write it off as being tired if it meant a little comfort.
--
Max lay on the mattress and thought about how this morning, in an alternate reality, it was propped up against the wall collecting dust. And then she thought about how Chloe knew that Max could travel through photos, and she wondered just how much Chloe blamed her. That was, if she even knew to what extent Max had fucked things up.
Max never even asked what she’d told her. Future-her.
Anxiety stirred.
“Um, Chloe,” Max said, her voice coming out small and nervous. Chloe was lying on her back staring up at the ceiling, and tonight, for once, she was under the sheets.
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.”
Chloe didn’t look at Max, she just exhaled slowly. “Me too.”
Neither girl elaborated. Silence ensued until Max turned over onto her side to get a better look at Chloe.
“About everything.”
Chloe shut her eyes.
“You don’t want to hear this, do you,” Max asked, but it was definitely more of a statement than a question, and she definitely didn’t need Chloe to answer. Chloe opened her eyes again and turned so she was face to face with Max.
“We’re here together now,” she said earnestly. Max only asked one thing, but Chloe’s response seemed to answer just about everything else she’d ever question too. She nodded.
“Max, can I ask you a question?” Chloe asked, glancing between both of Max’s eyes as though they could answer for her.
“Always,” Max responded, pulling the blanket she was under closer to her body. She watched Chloe's pale eyelashes flutter as she blinked.
“How was my dad?”
Max wasn’t prepared. Her stomach flipped and she was back to feeling regret regret regret— fight or flight or flight or flight
But she saw Chloe’s sad eyes, her expectant look, the way she licked her lips and continued to scan Max’s face. She had to answer. She had to.
“He was… still William,” Max said finally. She tried tiptoeing around the subject, but when Chloe looked somewhat disappointed with her answer, she stumbled. “Um, like, he was still himself and… he…”
“Was he happy?” Chloe asked, sounding a little more hopeful. A blue lock of hair fell into her eyes.
“He loved you so much. But… but he was devastated.” Max said. She gnawed on her lip, watching as the hope faded from Chloe’s eyes. She reached over tentatively and tucked the loose strands of hair behind Chloe’s ear.
“He hated seeing you in pain… and he and Joyce were in a lot of debt,” Max explained. Chloe looked confused, then something dawned on her and she looked sad again. It was jarring for Max, she suddenly wondered if she had told Chloe about her being paralysed or not, or maybe Chloe just forgot -- not caring as much about her own wellbeing as her father's. Max tried not to ponder the likeliness of the latter.
“We don’t have to talk anymore about it,” Max said quickly.
“It’s fine. It’s not real anyway, right? Uh. So. What about you? You didn’t, like, re-live your whole life did you?” Chloe asked, trying to lighten the tone of the conversation, but it was too late now. There was something somber in the air.
“No,” Max said, closing her eyes. “No, I just woke up, or something. Like where I left off, except… everything was different.”
“Must’ve been scary, huh?”
“No,” she opened her eyes and shook her head fiercely. “I mean. Yeah, it was scary but I don’t need any sympathy for that... experience.” Chloe and Max’s eyes met again.
“I was at Blackwell, and I was hanging out with… uh. The Vortex Club.”
“Wow,” Chloe snorted, and it was the first time in a few hours that she actually seemed amused. “How very Max.”
“It wasn’t even funny…” Max rubbed her eyes with her hand, “Victoria was, like, BFFs with me or something.”
“Oh my God.”
“She kept… texting me… like, ‘love you’, and she was sending me kisses…”
“Holy shit, Max.”
“It was horrific,” Max interjected, her voice rising slightly so Chloe could hear her over her own snickering. It was kind of nice to see Chloe crack a smile, given the circumstances.
“Max Caulfield getting it on with Victoria. Score,” Chloe gave her a gentle shove and Max scrunched her nose up at her. “Didn’t know she was your type.”
“Don’t say that,” Max chuckled, “I mean. It’s not like we were together or anything… Um, at least… I don’t think…”
Chloe's eyes widened, and she burst out laughing. “Shit, Max! You were totally banging Victoria!”
“Don’t! Don’t even make me think of that!" Max watched Chloe in disbelief, finding it extremely hard to contain her laughter.
“Man, can you imagine? She’d probably take you on tennis dates or something,” Chloe said, looking up at the ceiling again. “She’d have a chauffeur for you guys, but like, for her helicopter."
“I'm not missing much. I already have a chauffeur,” Max snorted, poking Chloe in the ribs.
“Chauffeur and companion,” Chloe agreed, grinning back at Max. They lay there together, smiling contentedly at each other for a little while. Max’s smile faded first.
“What if it was real?” she asked quietly. Chloe didn't respond, and Max wondered if she understood. “What if I just left that reality behind?”
“You don’t deserve the shit you’re giving yourself, Max,” Chloe said sharply, with such conviction it startled Max. She felt like dropping the subject there and then, but something made her keep going.
“I’m serious. If… if what was originally going to happen at that party did happen, and I went back to fix it… It’s going to be just like the night I changed your past,” Max said as calmly as she could, but her worry could be heard in her voice.
“On Wednesday, when we pulled an all-nighter researching the dark r—that old barn," Max stuttered, "I didn’t remember it. I don’t remember it. That was when I was in another reality. I was… absent. I wasn’t there.”
“Bullshit,” Chloe replied. “You were with me. Trust me, I remember all that coffee we dr-”
“That’s the point,” Max interrupted. “You remember it and I don’t. It was… a different Max, I guess. But I never even thought about it. That’s why I didn’t know what we were doing the next morning.”
“That’s… fucking freaky, Max,” Chloe said after a little while, frowning at Max. “But… it’s whatever. You have some memory loss, no biggie, I’ll fill you in – right?” she said, reaching over to stroke Max's arm, trying to be reassuring.
“Chloe,” Max shook her head slowly. “I’d love for it to just be ‘whatever’ but… based on that... fucked up logic... I won’t remember this either.” Chloe bit her lip.
“Then… I’ll fill you in on this too. I’ll have your back,” she said warily.
“But… what’ll happen to me? Now-me. I’ll… will I… will I vanish? Or will my memories just, like, collide? What if I just… cease to exist, and the other me just takes over my body… the… the real me taking over.”
“I’m sorry… I don’t mean to freak you out,” Max said after catching Chloe’s worried expression. “Shit,” she breathed. “We should have just gone to sleep, shouldn’t we?”
“Come here, hippie,” Chloe said quietly, motioning with her hands for Max to scoot over. Max moved closer to Chloe and Chloe wrapped her arms around her. She nuzzled her head into Chloe’s shoulder, and Max couldn't help but smile and think that they hadn't cuddled like this since they were kids.
Chloe smelled like soap and cigarettes and something musky and unidentifiable, and Max breathed in until her lungs were full of it, full of Chloe’s scent, Chloe, and only her.
“This is some fucked up shit, it’s okay to get freaked out,” Chloe mumbled into Max’s hair. "But don't talk like this isn't real. You're here with me right now, who cares what happens tomorrow? You'll save the world, as usual," she smiled sadly.
"How could this be any realer?" Chloe said, quieter then. Max closed her eyes and hummed in response. Gingerly, Max moved her hand from Chloe's ribs and began tracing shapes on her back. She couldn't see Chloe's reaction, so maybe she just imagined Chloe holding her tighter. Chloe let out a sigh.
"Even if you can't, you still saved me. So. Many. Times," Chloe said, bringing her hand up to Max's head and brushing through her hair with her fingers. "So what if you're just my superhero?"
Max grinned. "Okay, that was kind of corny."
"Shh," Chloe shushed her, giggling as she started to mess up Max's hair. "Fine. You know I'm glad you're here. I'll stop gushing over you now, jeez."
"Noo," Max mumbled, "I like it."
"Too late. I'm corny. Get somebody else to profess their undying love for you."
Unsure of what to say to that, Max didn't say anything. She just hoped silently that the moment wouldn't pass.
They both remained in each other's arms for that moment, fast-beating hearts in their throats and unspoken words on the tips of tongues.
"Uh, sorry, too gay?" Chloe prodded Max in the ribs. Max snorted, chuckling into Chloe's neck. "Shut up."
"Eh, you're right. We're in bed together. We're way past that."
"Oh my God, stop. You're ruining the moment!" Max exclaimed, pulling back slightly from the hug to laugh. Chloe looked back at her, a dopey smile spreading across her face.
"This was a 'moment'?"
"Yes!" Max gave her a little shove, laughing in disbelief.
"Wow," Chloe grinned back, her eyes soft. Max was prepared for Chloe to make another joke, she already had her dismissive-yet-quirky response planned -- but Chloe just stayed there, inches from her face, smiling.
Max had to look away first. She exhaled slowly.
"If I do... disappear, tomorrow-- don't interrupt," Max brought her finger up to Chloe's protesting lips, "then I guess this might be my last night as... me. Before I forget it all and re-start. So, uh. Maybe I should live like this is the end. My final hours, or something."
"Max..." Chloe said softly. "... if we just had any kind of moment, you're sure as hell destroying it with a downer like that," she then added, only half serious, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "But sure, let's pretend. Uh, so what would you wanna do?"
Max bit her lip, racking her brains for any kind of bucket list she might have written when she was fifteen, contemplating life, and bored out of her skull.
"Last requests, maybe?" Chloe asked.
"Nah," Max replied. "I'm fine. This is all fine," she said, her arm still wrapped around Chloe's back. "Maybe I'd just wanna... get things off my chest. If I'm gonna forget tomorrow, anyway."
"Damn," Chloe whispered. "What kind of confessions am I expecting here?" she asked, smiling, watching Max closely.
"Probably nothing you couldn't have already guessed," Max said honestly, chuckling. "Like when I was eleven, and your mom shouted at you for finishing those cookies your grandma b-"
"I knew that was you!" Chloe bared her teeth, giving Max's arms a little squeeze. They laughed again.
"I guess... I just want you to know... I felt really guilty about some of the things I did this week," Max said, pressing her lips together.
"Yeah, I know you do," Chloe replied, frowning slightly. "I wish you didn't."
"But..." Max continued. She cleared her throat. "There's a lot of things I don't regret too. Even if they're stupid mistakes, or if they're meaningless small things... they all got me where I am right now. Right here. And I don't know where else I'd rather be."
Chloe's face changed color. Max noticed it, and immediately she wished she could take a photo of her. Her eyes wide, cheeks pink, lips quivering. She looked alive. She looked real.
They were both so alive and so real and Max almost forgot about the possibility of her being wiped from existence the next day. Chloe started to smile, cautiously, then she smiled genuinely, her teeth gleaming white in the darkness of the room.
"'Wowser', that was hella gay."
"Ugh," Max groaned, letting her head fall forward so it rested against Chloe's chest. She felt Chloe's laughs vibrate through her body. "You're such a dork."
"But you love me," Chloe said smugly, squeezing Max's body tighter.
"But I love you," Max admitted, her voice muffled.
"Good," Chloe replied, and Max could hear the smile in her voice. There was a moment of hesitation before Chloe lowered her chin and let her lips touch the top of Max's head. Max's heart skipped a beat, and then all she could do was bury her head further in Chloe's shirt to hide her face.
"Chloe?"
"What?" Chloe laughed at the noise Max made, smothered by her own shirt. Max leaned back.
"Chloe."
"Yes, Max?" Chloe's lips curved into a smile as she looked down at Max with her mop of brown hair, all sticking out at strange angles.
"I'm just..."
Chloe waited.
Finally, leaning in carefully, Max tilted her chin upwards and placed a kiss on Chloe's nose. Chloe's skin felt hot under her lips, and watching Chloe's eyes cross as she followed Max's path almost made Max pull away just to laugh.
When she leaned back, she studied Chloe's unreadable expression. At first she looked surprised, then she looked kind of bashful -- eyebrows raised, her eyes crinkling. But it didn't worry Max. Chloe's silence didn't make her feel nervous.
Chloe looked down at Max's lips, then back up into her eyes, and she looked like she wanted to say something, wanted to do something--
"G-Goodnight," Max whispered.
Chloe grabbed her face in her hands before Max could turn over. Max must have had a quizzical look on her face, because Chloe faltered, just staring at Max.
Then she kissed her. Her forehead. Her cheek. The other cheek. Her nose. She laughed. "God," she breathed, grinning. "Oh God."
Max smiled back, and suddenly, unexpectedly, she felt tears stinging in her eyes. She smiled even harder as tears began to fall. Chloe didn't even hesitate to kiss where the tears fell, she kissed down the side of her face, she kissed her jawline, and then they were both laughing, and both crying, and both holding each other tighter than they'd ever held each other before.
"I love you too." A laugh bubbled up from Chloe's chest. "God, we're such freaking nerds."
Max laughed, looking up at Chloe with teary eyes.
"Night--" Chloe pressed her forehead to Max's, closing her eyes and smiling. "Goodnight."
The air was so electric, so warm, everything buzzing - and it was so easy to believe that the moment could've gone on forever. It was so easy to think the electricity was for them, for only them. That a day later, the electricity in the air wouldn't be conjuring up something hellish. That maybe, the storm would dissipate before even starting.
That maybe, the stillness that came with sleep would help weather the storm.
--
It was so easy to believe the rattling of the window and the low rumbles of thunder in the early hours were just noises and overnight, they too, would pass.
But they don't.
They never do.