within max’s grasp, she felt safe. its funny, she even felt that way through all the horrible shit the both of them experienced, that as long max was with her she’d be fine. even when max told her that she had to rewind because chloe had died (whenever max told her that it gave her a chill down her spine and a wrong feeling she couldn’t place), even when they had just dug up the love of chloe’s life… max made her feel safe. she guessed it made sense, with max practically being a god and all.
her trembling calmed and she sat there a moment in silence, taking in max’s warmth. if max had truly let her go she must be going through some fucked up “seeing ghosts” type shit right now. like those dreams chloe used to have about her dad but fucking worse. or better, maybe? hopefully better, since chloe, as far as she knew, wasn’t some subconscious grief or regret manifestation.
❝ Max. ❞ chloe took a breath, wiping her wrist against her eyes and her nose. she had really jumped the gun with that little emotional outburst, right? ❝ It’s not about me, you know. I accepted my fate. I mean, I’d be lying if I said “oh yeah I appeared here and was totally still cool with dying”, because no one really wants to die. But when its you or a whole town full of dumb assholes who also are alive and breathing? Not to sound high and mighty, but it would be really fucking selfish to want to continue building off my life and sacrifice all of theirs. I can’t– I won’t be upset about that decision. ❞
the sun was setting, casting an orange glow upon the suburbs. it almost reminded her of the sunsets she spent with max that final week. but she figured everything would remind her of that until she got some healing in, right? and what about max? what would her healing process even look like? she saw my dead body so many times, chloe thought, with a guilty glance over at max. does she really deserve to continue thinking about what not even she can change?
chloe easily shrugged max’s embrace off, raising to her feet. her throat still felt tight and her eyes dry, the tears were still drying on her cheeks. but it wasn’t fair to try and unload all of this at once, to either of them. ❝ Regardless, it seems like the universe cant seem to get rid of me. I mean, what other hot chick is gonna challenge time and space with her existence? It’d get real fucking boring without me around. ❞ chloe smiled, extending a hand out to help max up. ❝ Let’s worry about our shared trauma later. I’m hella starving. ❞ had she even actually eaten a real meal this entire time…?
She’s right. Logically, Max would let her go all over again if she needed to -- feel her heart break all over and mourn over again for a wound repeatedly opened up, but do the right thing. Seeing Chloe next to her, though, in her warmth and glory and beautiful profanity, is a hard thing to let go so easily. She only needs to look at her, feel her -- and a feeling pulses in her veins, a hard determination to let the Earth tear itself apart if it means it leaves her life alone.
This is bad. She should know better. Call it an impulse, call it the power of love or whatever -- it’s a ‘fuck you, fate’, for all it’s done to them. For how unfair it is to kill a scared girl with a loving family, and to give another powers but make it abundantly clear she’s not allowed to use them without consequences. Max doesn’t respond as Chloe talks, and lets her detach from her arms without much resistance. She doesn’t know if she will make good on her promise -- do all in her ability to prevent her deaths for as long as they’re here -- but she is not taking it back, either, and she is not telling Chloe the opposite.
I’m letting you go. She’s really tired of letting go. It doesn’t matter; they’re alive, for now. The whys and hows can wait until they have more information. Time travel and storms are quite a separate problem from wherever, and whatever this is.
Chloe recovers. Her composure, at least. Max looks up to her smiling face, outstretched hand, bold & confident statement against time and space. She smiles back, even if her smile is strained. Exhausted. She is glad to have her back and back into the groove of normal conversations, everyday shit-talking-- they’re okay, and you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth-- but the whole ordeal is new, and unreal, and her mind is still catching up even now.
“Okay.” She takes her hand-- heaves herself up to standing on shaky legs. Hopefully nobody has been trying to enter, or leave, while they’ve been blocking the door. “I think I have money... apparently it’s all digital here. I haven’t been out much, so I don’t know what we have to choose from... should we take a look around?”
Max isn’t in much of a joking mood; but she still raises her voice a little, and tilts her head up, as if calling out to the skies themselves. If they’re going into joking-about-trauma-territory, why not? “Hey, universe, nothing drastic! We’re just trying to eat!”