Archive of Our Own

The venue where Chloe’s band had played was proving successful; they were building a reputation, rising above other indie groups in the State. As the manager, Chloe was already negotiating new dates with the owner. When she walked in, her bandmates lifted their glasses, still eating and bragging about the dream of touring abroad, since they had gathered quite a following in Asia. Chloe laughed along, but her eyes searched the crowd for Max, who was waiting at another table, saving her a seat. She had news about her portfolio, she had won first place in a photography contest, and she wanted her to be the first to know. Chloe was so proud that she kissed her on impulse, drawing playful jeers from the band. She rolled up bits of paper and tossed them back in protest, before returning to Max.

Now Chloe couldn’t take her eyes off Max’s bright blue eyes as she went over the photos she had submitted for the contest.

She is too talented… it hurts to think she might be wasting it.

There was supposed to be a position for her to teach students at a prestigious university, but Max had chosen not to mention it. Chloe eventually found out through a conversation she had with another photographer. They hadn’t spoken about it directly. Chloe knew it thrilled Max, yet deep down she feared she might leave her for that job. She couldn’t imagine how she would endure the long road tours without her soulmate. They had spent almost their entire lives together, and she felt a bond with her unlike anything she had with anyone else.

Surely they would call her selfish. So she brought it up with her therapist. The answer didn’t sit well with her. It made her wonder if perhaps the two of them were stuck, since being together meant Max was constantly reminded of Arcadia Bay. Chloe didn’t want to accept that idea, but when she got home she found Max watching videos of the tragedy. She sat beside her to comfort her, to show she wasn’t alone, and to embrace this second chance with all her heart. She touched the tattoo on her arm. It was time to leave the past behind.

Without thinking twice, Chloe had a blackout tattoo done on her right arm, which surprised Max when she took off her jacket. The tattoo of a bouquet of flowers entwined with a skull was gone, and Chloe didn’t want to explain. Max sighed and didn’t press. There was so much left unsaid, but both chose silence, pretending nothing had happened, because Max didn’t want Chloe to bring up Rachel again, and Chloe didn’t want that town mentioned ever again.

In truth, Chloe didn’t want to believe that having this second chance meant she had to think forever about those affected, it was too heavy a burden to carry. Yet the choice hadn’t been hers. It was Max who bore the guilt of sacrificing Arcadia Bay so that Chloe could live. In the years after the tornado, Chloe did her best to give her happiness: constant trips, discovering beautiful landscapes for her album, supporting her in her work as a photographer. But deep down she knew Max was still trapped in the past, as if the present were never enough. Her “SuperMax syndrome” would not let her rest.

Walking hand in hand through the park, a squirrel darted down from a tall tree. They prepared to photograph it, and at the perfect moment Max snapped the shot with her Polaroid. The result was stunning. Max had a gift for capturing the best moments. Their outings were ideal distractions, a way to step away from band matters and explore the area like tourists. Then Max received another call from the university, this time the offer was improved, and she stepped away from Chloe so she wouldn’t overhear. But it was useless. Chloe crossed her arms and asked why there was so much secrecy, what she was hiding. At last, Max spoke of the possibility of teaching at the university. Chloe was astonished, and congratulated her, knowing she had the potential to be an academic. They joked and smiled together, until a call about the concert interrupted them.

“Hey, Max,” she said to catch her attention. Max was editing the latest photos she had taken from the Drugstore Makeup concert. “Busy?”

“I’m checking which ones to upload to the page. Which do you prefer between these?”

“The one on the left, it looks cooler.” It was the moment of the guitar solo. “About yesterday, how much time did they give you? You know, for that offer at the school or whatever,” she asked, leaning on the chair.

Max pulled her hands away from the computer in surprise.

“About the teaching position?”

“What? You’re considering it, aren’t you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why reply to them?”

“I… I don’t know how to say no.”

“Just hit the hella Red button,” she muttered.

Max let out a laugh, contagious as always. She was terrible at giving false explanations.

“It’s… a great opportunity,” Chloe said, rolling her eyes.

Max looked at her seriously, not understanding her insistence until she began to imagine the worst.

“Do you want me… to leave?” she asked, jumping from her seat.

“Well, it’s not like being here helps you much.”

“Are you… breaking up?”

“No,” she rushed to say. “Don’t look at me like that.” Max’s eyes were full of sorrow. “I didn’t mean it that way. You know what I meant…” she said, circling around the words.

“No, explain yourself,” Max said, worried.

“I love being with you, really. But these opportunities don’t come every day.”

Silence filled the room.

“I’m happy with you,” Chloe said. “But—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Max interrupted.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to end things! I don’t want us to drift apart!”

“We won’t drift apart. I’ll come visit you.”

“On weekends? You’re busy with the band. There’s no way we can make this work long-distance.”

“Don’t you think we can overcome this? We’ve overcome things a thousand times worse.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, we have to talk about it right now. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong? Seriously, Max, you need to consider the offer. At least—”

She didn’t want to hear more.

Max rewound time two minutes.

Chloe entered the room.

“Hey, Max. Busy?” she said, smiling at the computer.

“You know what? I can do it later. I feel like eating out.”

“Tacos? Pizza?” Chloe said cheerfully. “And a couple of beers.”

“I want the whole pack,” Max said, standing up from the chair.

“Good combo. Should I tell the others?”

“Just the two of us,” Max said, moving closer and wrapping her arms around Chloe’s waist.

“Okay,” Chloe smiled, avoiding the cheesiness.

But with that smile, she was already convinced.

“You look so good when you win me over,” Chloe said.

“You look so good when you look convinced.”

“I’m always convinced when food’s involved,” Chloe said casually. “And some good drinks. That… and if it’s you who's trying.”

“Are you flirting with me?” Max asked playfully.

“You’re the one flirting with me. You’re the one hugging me,” Chloe said, raising her arms.

Max immediately let go and looked away, pretending to be annoyed. Clumsy as ever.

“You’re so funny,” Chloe said, stealing a kiss while Max was distracted.

“That’s unfair. I wasn’t ready. I want another one,” Max complained.

“You’ll have to steal one yourself,” Chloe said, walking away with the truck keys. “You’ve got the whole night to try.”

“Cheater.”

Max smiled, then sighed in relief. She had managed to avoid the conversation and turn it into a date. She felt triumphant.

The problem was that Chloe had written down her intentions in her journal, and she had not given up. Max had spent the entire week rewinding time to avoid that conversation. And somehow, Chloe had begun to notice that Max seemed more secure, more confident in her words. Or maybe she was imagining it.

When they arrived in St. Louis, Max felt brave enough to write her something crazy she had been craving for a long time. She wanted them to live together. It was a radical change because she wanted to settle down with the love of her life, and for Chloe to finally be more than her girlfriend, for her to become her life partner. To Chloe, it might sound simple, and far too cheesy. Her dream was for Chloe to propose to her, but that would be asking too much. Living together felt much more appropriate. To Max, it meant that her fears would finally fade away, that Chloe was finally choosing her, not that she was just another option. She would stop fearing that Chloe would drift away from her every time a job offer came up. They would have something solid. That was all she was asking for. And since Chloe never took the initiative, she decided to do it impulsively on Valentine’s Day, because seeing so many couples openly happy made her just a little jealous. She picked up her phone and texted her.

Chloe received the message while distracted. Her first reaction was to doubt what she had just read. She read it again and did not know what to say. She had thought about it, of course, because it was the next step couples usually take. But she was still upset because, even though Max had told her about the job offer, she hadn't mentioned that they kept pushing and had given her another counteroffer. As if Max didn't trust that they could make it through despite everything. So she thought about it for a moment. Her message wasn't planned... or was it? Max said it on Valentine's Day... Surely it was. But this time, from a distance, Max could not rewind and take those words back from the chat.

Would she be capable of it?

If she said no, would Max keep asking until she accepted?

That was what she wrote back.

Chloe felt regret. She was going too far, making rushed assumptions. But Max... she could have done it. Couldn’t she?

As she made her way back to the hotel, her mind began to doubt, to remember moments that felt almost too perfect, as if they had been rehearsed. They met, and talked about other things. Max did not bring up living together again, although that was not what was making Chloe feel distant from her. It was more like a feeling that was triggered every time Max spoke.

Was she correcting her steps? How could she know? How?

She did not want to doubt her. Max did not deserve it. In the middle of the night, Chloe pulled her close and held her, hugging her while feeling guilty for her doubts. Living together. Why not? Max turned toward her and smiled the way she always did, with fascination, and Chloe’s instinct made her kiss her without explaining a thing. She only wanted to stop doubting, and for that awful feeling to fade as her desire for Max burned brighter.

How could she get rid of those doubts? They were still there in the morning.

Max was asleep. She did not want to wake her.

She went out to clear her mind, and stopped to buy breakfast. But she was still doubting everything they were living. She felt trapped inside a bubble that was about to burst. She was happy... yes. She loved Max. Obviously. But... what if... what if her whole reality was a lie?

A chill ran down her spine. She was afraid that everything was a carefully crafted lie.

"Did you decide about your offer at Caledon?" she asked when Max finished her coffee.

Max turned toward her. Two days had passed since that same discussion.

"How can you...?"

"How do I remember?" Chloe said. "Then we’ve already had this conversation."

Max looked like she wanted to step back.

"It’s in my journal. And I wrote it days ago, Sherlock, so I’m not going to forget."

"You keep a journal?"

"Max!"

"I’m surprised, that’s all."

"How long, Max? How long have you been doing this?"

“I… it was only a couple of times.”

“A couple of times? I knew it. Seriously? You’re rewinding to manipulate the conversation? What, choosing the best answer? Or was the idea to change the subject completely?”

“No, I just didn’t want us to fight.”

“You’re telling me we haven’t fought because you’ve been doing this all along. How long?”

“I don’t know. It's just little things.”

“They’re not ‘little things,’ Max. This is  hella unfair! Don’t you get it? You’re literally stealing my time, choosing the ‘perfect’ version of me!?”

“Chloe. You’re misunderstanding.”

“I see this conversation isn’t working. Are you going to erase it too?”

“Chloe,” she said nervously.

“Don’t you dare do it again! Don’t take time away from me.”

She couldn’t believe Max was using her powers to avoid a conversation. And she felt deeply betrayed, because she didn’t know in what other moments Max had used her power. She felt manipulated that she yelled:

"I’m so sick of you pulling this fucking shit. I don’t know if I want to see you right now.”

She stormed out, and didn’t realize how harsh she had been until she saw her phone had no calls. Max hadn’t looked for her. Why hadn’t she looked for her?

She had problems with the venue for the next show; it had been rented by another group, and she didn’t have time to deal with both things. She had to make a rushed trip across the city to redirect the audience before nine. It was a terrible day. And it would have been less awful if she hadn’t written that note, because Max would have been among the crowd. With her.

On the other hand, Max found the empty bed with that terrible letter, one that broke her heart and plunged her into her darkest thoughts. She was a burden to Chloe, that was why she had stopped being herself. That was why she erased her tattoo. That was why she was no longer happy. She had used her power to avoid confrontations without expecting to be discovered. She loved Chloe too much to argue over nonsense, but using her power without clear reasons had made a mess, had made Chloe feel manipulated. And the fact that Chloe was angry enough to hate her was her fault. Chloe had left her. And she deserved it. She had been selfish, and now this was her punishment.

She tried to reconsider, thought about going to the concert. And when she finally gathered the courage, the concert didn’t exist.

Maybe Chloe had planned everything to leave her in a way she couldn’t undo by rewinding time.

Chloe was clever.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

She said nothing, just walked away and accepted that Chloe would not stay with her.

She cried a lot, but she couldn’t pressure her, couldn’t force her. Chloe deserved to be happy, with or without her.

Max’s reaction was not what Chloe expected; she wanted her to come looking, to talk through all those things they had kept silent, believing that way they could overcome them. But seeing her give up, Chloe felt weary, wounded, and furious. And whenever Max came to mind, she lashed out at whoever crossed her path. She didn’t know how to process her loss. Then she took a sheet of paper and began writing a letter that was hard to finish. She wanted to turn the page and feel that by leaving everything behind, they might heal. Maybe that way both could find closure.

“I started writing this in St. Louis, hence the huge arch on the postcard. But I’m sending it from Tennessee because it took me all this time to figure out what I wanted to say. When we were teenagers, I thought being able to rewind time was the coolest shit in the world, and I guess it was for a while. The problem is, the more often you go back in time, the less you're looking forward. I wanted to look forward, to move forward with you, Max, into a future we couldn’t predict, with all the mess that comes with it. Eventually I knew, as much as it hurt, that you could never be able to do that. Not with me, at least.

I love you, Max. That will always be true. I hope you find someone you no longer feel the need to rewind for, and can look forward unafraid.

With love, Chloe”

She took a drag before dropping the letter into the mailbox.

The letter slid in and fell inside.

Chloe stood still, and a second later regretted it.

“No! No, no, no.”

She tried to reach for the letter as if she still had time, and in the process burned herself with the cigarette still in her hand. Cursing did no good. She threw the cigarette down and crushed it hard, venting her frustration at losing the letter. Suddenly she felt clumsy and desperate for that letter. She glanced sideways at the mailbox, imagining breaking it open, and when she pictured running it over with the truck she burst out laughing. It seemed she was the one not looking forward. She reconsidered and returned to her truck, replaying in her mind the letter she had written for the love of her life.

She smiled bitterly because she couldn’t imagine a life without her.

“I just hope she doesn’t hate me,” she murmured, head down. And she kept driving without a fixed destination, not daring to stop.

They both suffered in silence, believing the other didn’t want to see her. Chloe tried to rebuild her life, but she couldn’t. She missed Max too much, and the guilt over that letter wouldn’t let her sleep. She even began to have nightmares about a world where she had died in the tornado. It wasn’t coincidence. Too many dreams alike.

But the bullet that shattered the mirror was enough to make her realize they weren’t just nightmares. Something else was happening. Something was demanding answers, and the only one who could help her was Max.

Chloe was anxious, nervous, wanting to brake, turn around, and go back to her life. But she wanted to see her, wanted to know if there was still something left for her in Max’s life.

On an endless road she finally arrived at Caledon University, wanting at last to return to her side.

END