"I can't sleep" prompt (Alternate Max and Choe because we need more of them)
In which I experiment with an idea that has been marinating in my brain for a while: what if Alt!Max was the passenger in the SUV that totaled Chloe’s beloved hybrid? Takes place in 2011–I see alt!Max at this point as still being a little more like the Max we know from the main timeline, and I’d say something like this would really hit hard for any iteration of Max, be she alt!Max or main!Max. Chloe’s POV.
Chloe hates waking up these days to her immobile, numb body and the neck brace restricting any movement of her head. All she can do when she opens her eyes to the miasma of fatigue and a constant aching in her skull, is just stare at whatever happens to be in front of her or in her peripheral view. She doesn’t want to be alive, doesn’t want to live like this; she wishes–but does not say it aloud–to have died immediately in the crash. So she didn’t have to wake up in hospital, literally unable to move a muscle. So she didn’t wake up to her parents trying and failing to hide their tears of relief when she opened her eyes for the first time since the accident. At least the painkillers meant she hardly ever dreamed, and if she did, she never remembered them on waking up to the same white walls, the same machines attached to or stuck inside her, the same neck brace, the same everything.
She can’t feel any modicum of relief or happiness that her friends had come in to visit her in the hospital, or at the very least had sent her flowers and cards to the ward. It was nice, but what could she even do with them? And all the flowers and cards and well-wishers in the world would never help her move or feel anything below her neck ever again. What was the point? They were just sorry for her, sending cards with nonsense stuff like “Get well soon!” and “Hope you get better!” and “Thinking of you”. No one offered to help her with anything–any of her favourite music they could bring, along with an ipod and headphones? There was a tv in this room–what about her favourite movies? What she wouldn’t give for a rewatch of Blade Runner. Back to the Future would be nice, or even Groundhog Day. Just anything, anything to keep her mind off her now useless physical state of being.
If only Max was here–but Chloe hasn’t heard anything of her, not even a letter or card, let alone visit. She wanted to be angry at Max for never rushing to her side, just to be with her But she doesn’t have the energy to even summon any stronger feelings beyond disappointment. She’d forgive Max for not being here in a heartbeat if she ever visited her at all in the hospital. None of her friends mattered nowhere near as much as Max, who wasn’t even here, not yet anyway. She’d help Chloe with anything, surely, doing it in a heartbeat.
Please don’t abandon me, Max…
Chloe has long lost count of how many days she has been in the hospital, for each today that passes seems exactly like yesterday, and tomorrow would be the same. The only thing that really changed was the sky outside her window–rainy, overcast, sunny, or all three in one hour. The stars moved past her window as they always did, every night.
The mornings are the same, the afternoons, the evenings, the nights. Always.
Until she wakes up one late afternoon from yet another dreamless sleep, to see she is not alone on her bed–someone is sitting in a chair brought flush next to the bed, their arms and head resting up against Chloe’s side, carefully avoiding the IV line. She only needs to see the short brown hair to know it’s Max–her Max. Max Caulfield. Chloe’s mouth twitches into a very brief, faint smile, but it’s the first smile in days.
Chloe strains to say Max’s name, but for the trach newly inserted in her throat, connected by a tube to a ventilator. The neck brace wasn’t helping matters much either.
“Max?”
Max doesn’t move, doesn’t react. She may as well have fallen asleep right there in her chair, resting her head and arms on the bed.
“Hey…Maxine.”
A little groan. “It’s Max. You know that.”
Max falls silent, but a second later, her head jolts up, straightening her posture up enough to make eye contact with Chloe, whose smile faded before it even appeared on her lips at all.
Max looks terrible. Her hair, usually so tidy and cute in its bob style, is limp and looks like it hasn’t been showered for several days. Dark rings shadow the skin under her bloodshot eyes, and her face is so pale that her freckles look even darker than usual. Her clothes, usually tidy and ironed, look like they were fetched from the laundry pile, all rumpled and tired-looking.
“You look awful,” Chloe remarks.
Max slumps back on the chair, hands clasped together, shoulders hunched up and tense. She chews her bottom lip, looking like she’s barely holding back her tears.
“I can’t sleep,” Max mumbles, voice weak and so quiet Chloe had almost missed what she’d said.
It’s hard to talk, and it wears Chloe out to force her voice box to work, but she doesn’t care. Max is here, and that’s all that matters right now.
“Why?”
Max is quiet–too quiet–as she bends forward to rest her head in her hands, hair falling forward to cover her face.
What I’d fucking give to hug you right now. What the hell happened?
After what feels like a long minute, Max raises her head again, hands falling limp in her lap. Her eyes lock onto Chloe’s, gaze never wavering away.
“It’s…it’s my fault,” Max says in a monotonic voice, “But everyone keeps telling me it’s not.”
Chloe doesn’t have a good feeling about this. Nevertheless, she stays quiet, silently urging Max to continue. She can hear Max’s shuddering inhalation before speaking again.
“Chloe, I was there.”
What? She saw–
“I saw everything. I was–” Max’s arms wrap tight around herself, hands gripping at her shoulders. “I was the passenger.”
“The SUV?” Chloe rasps, a flash of memory passing through her thoughts–the SUV out of control, ramming into the passenger side of the car, the shattering windscreen–
“Yes. I was–am–on a road trip with some friends, and our driver was an older cousin of one of them. Full license and everything.” Max’s fingers grip so tight on her shoulders, Chloe can see the girl’s knuckles turning white. “We ran out of snacks and…and I volunteered to go with my friend’s cousin for more from the grocery store.”
Chloe can already see where this is going, but she stays quiet, letting Max tell it at her pace, taking the time she needs.
“It was late, and there was barely any traffic–and she had to go and speed down the roads just because there wasn’t any cars. I’d–I should’ve done something, Chloe. I should’ve. If I’d have known–” Max’s words catch in her throat, and she squeezes her eyes shut for a few seconds before slowly opening them again. “Chloe…I swear, I never want to hurt you. Everything…it’s so fucking unfair. You didn’t deserve this–if I could–I’d do anything if it meant you…you could move again. But I didn’t stop her, and I–I’m…god.” Max’s hands convulse in her lap. “I saw you. It–I hate thinking about it.” A straggling inhalation, followed by an exhalation. “Chloe…I thought you were dead. I saw–I saw you. You were…” Max’s words fail her and she shakes her head, looking away, cheeks wet.
Fuck. No wonder she can’t sleep.
“There was…I don’t want to think about it.”
“Then don’t.”
“I can’t! I close my eyes, and I don’t want to sleep. Because I know–I know I’ll see everything again. I don’t want to sleep. Ever again.” Max’s fingers rake through her limp hair, stilling on her scalp. “There was so much glass. So much blood. You were…I thought…your parents should hate me right now–but they don’t. They say–they say it’s not my fault. But Chloe, I can’t help thinking it. If I’d done something–”
“Max.”
Chloe’s forceful use of Max’s name shuts the other girl up, blue eyes locking back on hers.
“Not. Your. Fault.”
Silence. Max’s eyes do not waver from Chloe’s face, but nor does she speak again.
“You weren’t driving…right?”
Max shakes her head.
“You didn’t know what would happen.”
Another shake of her head. Chloe tries her best to smile, aching so much to get up and pull Max into her arms, let her cry into her shoulder, it’s bordering on torture.
“See?” Chloe wishes it wasn’t so hard to talk. “Not your fault. Mom and dad were right.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so.”
“I wish I could believe that, Chloe.”
Max just stares down at her hands, looking, if possible, even more despondent than before. Chloe wishes she could move her arms, just so she can grab Max’s shoulders, shake some sense into her, make her see that no one held her to blame, believed her to be at fault. She wants to be able to walk, so she can grab Max and take a walk with her to the only actually decent cafe in the hospital, because she looks like she hasn’t eaten in days either.
Chloe might not be able to hold Max ever again, but still, she could think of the next closest thing. It wouldn’t be remotely the same, but still. If it gave Max comfort…
“Max?”
“Yeah?” Max’s voice is barely above a whisper.
“Come here.”
She hesitates at first, a long moment passing before Max stands up, shaky on her feet, her hand reaching out to the side-table to stabilise herself as she shuffles up next to the bedside, looking down at Chloe with swollen eyes.
Chloe offered a small grin, gazing up at her friend. “Damn. You’re so much taller. That growth spurt finally came.”
Max looks down at her own feet, then back up at Chloe’s face. “Really?”
“Max…”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t hug you, but…” Chloe has to pause to rest her voice for a few moments. “Would it help if you…held me?”
Max’s eyes widen as Chloe’s words sink into her. “You sure?”
“Sure.”
Several seconds of hesitance pass before Max carefully sits on the edge of the bed, facing Chloe, leaning to carefully tuck one arm under her shoulders, the other around her chest before resting her head on Chloe’s. Chloe closes her eyes, grateful she can at least feel Max’s warm, but still damp with tears, cheek on her forehead. She hears shoes tumble to the floor–one, two–before Max pulls up her socked feet onto the bed, so she is resting against Chloe. It’s not an easy feat by any means for them both to fit on the same bed, but not impossible. Chloe opens her eyes again, glances down at her feet under the blankets, at Max’s resting next to hers.
“Oh…still a midget,” Chloe teases in a whisper, “Thought you’d grown taller for a moment there.”
A muffled sniffle, a little noise that might’ve been the weakest of giggles.
“Thanks, Chloe.”
Another moment, quiet and filled with the gravity of Max’s remorse and the grim state of her own body.
Maxine’s life is in ruins… just like Arcadia Bay should be. She feels it deep down, but she doesn’t know why. She remembers fragments, memories like reflections in shards of broken glass. Pieces of a life out of reach and lost. Because of her. Of all the things she can half remember, she can never forget her… and the life she made Maxine take.
Now, alone in this impossible world, Maxine strives for answers… only to find that fate may have a purpose in store for her.
My brand new fanfiction has been released! Overexposure is an AU following what happened to Maxine, aka Alt!Max, in the wake of Prime Max going back and fixing what she changed- leaving Maxine to pick up the pieces.
It is a prequel AU, and as such the events of BTS (bar maybe one or two events) will not unfold- but rest assured, Rachel Amber was is here. Aiming for roughly 10+ chapters, give or take.
Teaser Tags: Angst, love triangles, supernatural, and blood, sweat, and tears. Oh, and time powers!
Feel free to check it out, i’d love to know your thoughts.
In twenty-four hours, Max had pulled a gun on someone, had her room vandalized, prevented a suicide, and gotten David suspended from the staff.
She felt good. And exhausted. Now the morning of the ninth, Max had Kate’s bunny, Alice, crunching on a carrot in her cage. Max was, begrudgingly, looking at Lisa from her desk. Her right ear was pressed against the top of her closed laptop, and she looked at the dead leaves of her plant. Over-watering, apparently. ‘They’re so hard to take care of...’ Max scolded herself lightly, ‘Too much water, too little water...’ Her eyes flicked to Alice, who was happily noshing on her treat. She smiled. “At least you can sort of tell me when you need stuff...”
Max looked at her phone, which hadn’t buzzed yet. She’d texted Chloe, but seeing as it was nine in the morning, Chloe wasn’t going to answer soon. Max didn’t even want to be up. ‘At least classes are cancelled for today... That’ll help... I can get some more of this research done...’ she thought, then groaned. ‘Joy.’
Part 2 in a prologue to the Life in Snippets fic series.
Summary: Cliques are hard to deal with as the new kid, even if everybody seems to want you. It doesn’t make it any easier when pretty girls are everywhere. Maybe things will be easier after the party on Thursday.
It was the fourth day of The Language of Photography, the fifth day that Max could say they'd met with Mark Jefferson personally, and they still couldn't decide if they liked how he taught yet. They knew he was an interesting person, totally. An fascinating person with a powerful photography style and a globally successful career. Max felt like they could listen to him forever. The problem was, Max could only listen to him for maybe a minute before losing track of what was going on.
The man didn't write down anything he said! It wasn't Max's fault! Most teachers wrote on a chalk- or whiteboard while they were talking. Ms. Grant gave out small packets and replicated the material on the board while she talked. Whatever Jefferson's skill set might be, it didn't extend to pedagogy.
Max hoped this wasn't what college was like.
There was only a few people in the room that Max knew, even though they'd done introductions and taken a picture together on the first day. Well, 'a few' constituted about half the class in this case - it was tiny, with people sprinkled around as if they all needed as much space as Max - but there was Alyssa, Victoria, Taylor? (she was pretty sure), and Kate with familiar faces. Taylor and Victoria had both given them a smile when they walked in late, but they'd chosen an unoccupied desk in the back-center of the room, too skittish to sit with them in class.
The bell rang, interrupting something Max hadn't even heard, but they were brought back to an, "Ahhh, well, I guess that will do."
As everyone rose from their seats, Jefferson continued, louder over the chair-scraping, "All right, it's lab tomorrow, so make sure to bring your equipment. Alyssa, if you still don't have a camera tomorrow, you can use one of the spares in the meantime and oh - make sure you've finished chapter 2 by then, even if it's not due until Thursday. We'll be breaking your photographs down to the most basic elements, so it's best that you have clear understandings of the definitions. We're going for precision, not style. See ya."
Max jumped as they exited the room, finding themself flanked by Victoria and Taylor. Even though they smiled and Taylor raised her hand into a wave, it took Max a second to realize they were friendly.
"Jesus!"
Taylor flinched back, but was quick to recover, tapping Max's shoulder as if it would calm them down. "Sorry! sorry!," she said, eyes wide, embarrassed. "Are you okay?"
Max found their hand clutching at their chest to protect their heart, and shrunk down, wiping embarrassment like sweat from their face.
"Oh, no, no, it's good, I'm okay - just didn't see you."
After a brief pause, Max glanced between the two, as they looked back expectantly, then added, "Do you . . . need something? Am I in the way?"
Victoria waved away the thought. "Nah, we were just going to walk with you if that's cool. Taylor wanted to invite you to something before you scurried away."
"Oh. Oh?" Max nodded their head, and they turned to start walking. "What's up?"
"So-" Taylor started, looping her thumbs on the straps of her backpack and pulling it closer to her. Her nails were coated on one hand with black nail polish, pink on the other - something Max had never noticed before. "- there's kind of this thing Thursday. A Vortex Club party, like our first one of the year (Except for our retreat, I guess). Anyway, you should come! I can tell Courtney to put you on the guest list and-"
Nervousness set in quickly, but Max just tried to keep their eyes forward. However, anxiety and impulsiveness don't always mix, so Max cut in, "What's the Vortex Club?"
Victoria scoffed, and Max could somehow hear the roll of her eyes. "The Vortex Club is the real reason to come to Blackwell. When law schools see Blackwell, and they see Vortex Club, they see wealth, they see power, they see dedication. Even if it isn't there, they see it. And the same goes for the arts and sciences, even more so."
"Oh."
The trio pushed their way out the double doors into the courtyard. As they descended the steps, Max asked, "And they're having a party?"
"We're having a party," Taylor corrected. "Courtney's chair, and Nathan's co-chair. The four of us basically run this bitch - club and school, I guess - and yeah, we have parties. Nathan's dad, uh, like, he pays for us to have all sorts of events. Campus spirit events and club retreats and -"
"Basically everything but the booze and weed, but honestly some of that, too," Victoria interrupted.
Taylor shrugged. "Basically, yeah."
Confusion brought an itch to the back of Max's head, and they tried to scratch it away as they asked, "So, wait, like, you just have parties and stuff, but it's like a status symbol to be a part of it or something?"
"Oh, no!" Taylor protested, but didn't immediately have another explanation.
"Nah, Courtney makes sure we're reputable people who do good work and make connections with professionals and all that. Well, her and Sean. But either you work with Courtney or you pay your dues to the club somehow, and we all get good exposure. And good vodka."
"Huh."
Although they'd had no intention of it, Max found themself in the dining commons alongside Taylor and Victoria. Their Prozac didn't leave them with much of an appetite, so Max hadn't really gone except for dinner yet.
"So where's the party at, then? On Thursday."
"Oh, so, um, it's the first party of the year and technically everyone is invited so we're using the gym. Normally we'd do a house party somewhere but this one should be kind of big, so. Yeah."
Max asked, "Should I wear something?"
"Probably something," Victoria replied.
When Max gave her a blank look, she just snickered.
Max tugged at her jacket, shrugging as they asked, "So like, is this good?"
Victoria's eyes snapped down to Max's legs, then worked their way slowly back towards their face. Max found it entirely unbelievable that she hadn't already looked her outfit over and found it lacking, but at least she was going through the effort of pretending that it was hard to say.
"Uhhh?" Victoria asked, arms slowly raising to a shrug.
"You can try it," Taylor chimed in, craning her neck to look at Max while grabbing a food tray, "but Courtney might hunt you down if you do. She hates it when people don't try and look good."
Beat.
"No offense."
"Uh, none taken, I guess."
After a few minutes split apart to get their own meals, the three of them sat down together, with Max placed opposite of Victoria and Taylor.
Just as they were settling in, Victoria let out a sigh of disgust. Max tilted their head to the side in question, quick to dip a fry in ketchup and start eating.
Victoria responded, "Of course she's a vegan. God."
"What? Who?" Taylor asked.
Victoria's eyes focused somewhere behind Max, and they turned to look at whatever she was staring at.
"Kate Marsh."
As soon as Victoria said it, Max realized how she'd pieced that together (not that it was hard) - Kate had already taken one burger from the rack labeled with a hand-sized sign that read 'V', and she was taking another. They self-consciously glanced at their own burger, not yet connecting Victoria's tone with what Kate was doing.
I really should go vegan, but . . .
"Wait, I don't get it, why 'of course'?" Taylor asked, turning towards Victoria as she [Victoria] twirled her fork in a bowl of stir-fry.
Victoria rolled her eyes. "Because she's just so good, right? She's got all those environmentalism stickers on her laptop like, hello, we all live on the West Coast, chill the fuck out."
Victoria paused, so Max thought it was a safe time to start responding. However, as soon as they opened their mouth, Victoria continued.
"Plus, she founded an Abstinence Club what, the second day of school? And she carries her Bible in her bag, too. I mean, I have honest-to-God never met someone who so vehemently did not want to fuck."
While Taylor's face snapped into a critical side-eye glare, Max asked, "So what? I mean, like, she knows what she's about. I may not be into the whole god thing, but I think it's kind of cool. Like her whole deal."
"Well, I think it's kind of annoying."
That comment soured the mood further, and Max stopped talking, instead focusing on getting the right amount of ketchup on each french fry before eating it. Taylor went back to her food as well (french fries too, but minus a burger, or anything else for that matter), and the momentum of Victoria's complaints collapsed right into silence.
After a few seconds, Max heard from behind, "Oh, hey guys."
As they turned, Kate Marsh shuffled into view, holding a tray with several plates and bowls with both hands.
"Hey Kate," Max said, flinching a little out of humiliation. There was always the possibility that she heard, after all.
"Hi Kate," Taylor said, managing a little wave.
Victoria just smiled a closed, strained smile until Kate passed by her, at which point her expression immediately fell back into annoyance.
A few seconds later, Taylor's eyes snapped back up from her food and her eyes widened in realization. Then, smiling, she nudged Victoria in the ribs and said, "Are you still just jealous that Kate got to be Jefferson's assistant instead of you this year?"
Again, Victoria rolled her eyes so hard that Max couldn't tell if she thought the idea was stupid or if Victoria was getting ready to yell.
Luckily, she wasn't. "No, I don't need that to be exceptional."
Beat.
"I just think she's fake, is all."
Although they couldn't quite put their finger on why, Max felt a little hurt by that.
Max hadn't known what to expect when they were assigned 'Science Lab' as part of their mandatory schedule. They had known even less of what to expect after finding out that The Art of Science was a mixed science class focused on hands-on experiments and projects in biology, physics, chemistry, and engineering. Luckily, Max was fairly certain they had been partnered up with the smartest kid in class, because they were halfway through their first lab and he'd only looked at the instructions once. They were running a change-of-state physics experiment about loss of heat and taking the temperature of ice water or something like that, but their partner (Warren, they were pretty sure) had been conducting the whole thing while they took the temperature.
He also was pretty much conducting the conversation, too.
"But no, despite what anyone says, I refuse to believe that Chell is just a lucky test subject. Valve's original and all, but I don't think they'd break from all storytelling convention and make her totally unrelated from the rest of the cast, small as it is. I may not be sure about the whole 'the heart box has Caroline's body in it' thing but Caroline is for sure her mom, so GLaDOS is basically her family at this point. Just, you know, her sick, twisted, abusive family."
"Oh, so just like a real family, then," Max replied, totally deadpan.
"Whoah Max, uh, kind of dark there." Warren scratched the side of his face, a little off-guard. "But like, technically yeah, I guess. I wonder if that's the point. Like, why center an abuse story in a comedy game? Ah, well. So, uh, how much time do we have left?"
"Technically? Just whenever it boils, which is supposed to be in like . . . 9 more. Uh. Four minutes and thirty seconds. But really until class is over so," Max tapped their phone where it sat on the desk so the time would appear. 1:48. "So, like forty more minutes."
Warren jumped right into another topic, or maybe deeper into the whole Portal thing, but Max's attention began to wander to the table behind them. Alyssa-from-photography sat with her back towards them and Warren, hair pulled back to avoid spilling over the slide she was staring at on her microscope. Across from her sat another (tiny) girl from photography, but she had spoken so little last week that Max couldn't remember her name, although they were certain she'd introduced herself to Max on the first day. She leaned over the desk, elbow on a blank notebook page while talking, although her voice was soft enough that Max couldn't hear her even a few feet away.
However, when Alyssa spoke, Max could hear fine.
"I dunno, the Vortex club and I aren't exactly B-F-Fs, especially now that Courtney's in charge. They probably wouldn't even let me in."
Max turned in their seat, aware that this cut Warren off mid-sentence without knowing what, exactly, they'd interrupted. The squeak it produced on the seat must have been enough to get Alyssa's attention, because she turned while the other girl leaned a bit to the side to get a look.
Max tucked a tuft of hair behind their ears and said, "Um, are you guys talking about the party this Thursday? In the gym?"
The tiny girl opposite of Alyssa responded quickly, "Oh, yeah. Are you going? The school uses student staffing for events so I'm like, carrying sound equipment or something."
Max nodded. "Yeah, Taylor invited me, from photography. Apparently she and Victoria and Courtney-"
Max hadn't quite finished before being interrupted by a loud sigh of disgust from Alyssa, which caught them so off-guard they just stopped speaking.
Alyssa, taking a few seconds to recognize that demanded an explanation, said, "They're just assholes. They run the Vortex Club, but they seem to think that means running the school, too. I mean, they're basically the Plastics, except where it's been uncool for girls to tear each other down for a decade or whatever."
So they really are important. At least, important enough to be hated.
"Uhh, what's the Vortex Club and who are you talking about?" Warren asked, still stirring the near-boiling water although Max had stopped taking measurements. Then, immediately distracting himself, he looked at the other girl and said, "Warren, by the way. I'm Warren, I mean."
"Stella," she replied.
Max responded, "It's like a social frat, kind of, for like high schoolers. And they do community stuff and it looks good on a transcript."
"Eh," Alyssa shrugged, a casual negation. Following up, she said, "I mean, it's just an enclave for rich kids to party and everyone else to lick their shoes for an officer-ship or a recommendation or something. It's living proof of the whole 'It's not what you know, just who you know' thing. It's bullshit."
Max was becoming increasingly disinterested in their whole deal, which wasn't too hard when it had sounded sketchy from the start. They leaned down, deflating until their elbows pressed into their legs and they held their head up on their hands. It was only seventy seconds until their experiment would be finished, and they wouldn't even notice.
"So, like, what's their deal then? I know Courtney's Spectrum co-chair and the Vortex Club chair, but like, are Victoria and Taylor just part of her posse, total Plastic style?"
And for the first time since Max had known her, Alyssa laughed. It was kind of a weird laugh, projected from the chest and with a bit of a snort. She recovered quickly, though, and said, "Right, right, you weren't here last year. No. No, um, other way around. Victoria is the leader, 'Sweet-T' and Courtney are just her sycophants. Well, Courtney definitely is. Taylor's . . . Taylor."
A question quickly jumped to the front of Max's mouth, but they held it back for a second.
Just a second, though. "Isn't Taylor Victoria's girlfriend?"
Alyssa's eyes shifted back and forth between Max and Stella on either side of her, as if one of them would give her the answer. "Uhhhhhhh?"
Stella chimed in, "I'm not even really sure she likes girls. She hasn't dated anyone since she moved, I don't think. And you know Rachel would have blasted it if she'd fucked anyone. Those two got pretty damn petty before Rachel took off."
Alyssa shook her head. "God. But you're right. Even if Victoria let any guy but Jefferson within five feet of her, Nathan would probably knife 'em, or like, disappear them or whatever rich people do when they don't like someone."
Max was getting confused, as nothing Stella and Alyssa were referring to Max knew anything about. Who was this Nathan kid everyone kept mentioning? Was he friends with Victoria? Was he pining after her or something? It only seems right that the rich boy running the school would be with the queen bee.
I wonder why they're not dating already. Maybe he's a huge douche? Or gross-looking, maybe. She doesn't seem like the sort of person who would date someone just for their money.
Max and Warren's experiment was boiling, and neither of them were paying attention. While Max was trying their best to pay attention to the conversation, Warren seemed engrossed in his thoughts.
At least, until Max realized he was mumbling, and he decided to let the other in on the question: "Okay, like, sorry to back up like seven steps but Courtney who?"
"Wagner," Alyssa replied.
Warren's eyes widened suddenly, and he leaned over the desk to get closer access to the conversation. "Wait, Courtney Wagner? And she's from here, right?"
Alyssa and Stella nodded in unison.
"Dude, holy fuck, Courtney used to run my Robotics team back when I was in like sixth grade. I didn't know she was all popular and shit now. How'd that happen?"
Alyssa shrugged again, but provided no answer. Warren wiggled in his seat a little, seemingly perplexed by this development, totally unaware of what Max had just realized - 1) they hadn't taken notes for several minutes 2) the experiment was about to boil over and 3) Ms. Grant was approaching their desk.
"Now, I think that's far enough Mr. Graham, Ms. Caulfield, you can take your last reading and move on. I'd prefer neither of you burned yourself just yet."
Max felt a twinge of embarrassment somewhere amidst the stabbing pain of shame, but just picked up their notebook while Warren checked the thermometer.
"I think my mutagen's a little unstable," Warren said, trying to read the thermometer through condensation.
Max shook their head.
This damn kid.
Media literacy was the class where Max had gotten to know Courtney last week, as they'd sat down at a random seat before being ambushed by a highly interactive class. From the syllabus, it looked like the class focused heavily on super heroes over the past century, from the origin of the masked vigilante (The Scarlet Pimpernel, which they were reading for the first three weeks of class) through the start of the cold war. It was not what they had been expecting at all, and now, knowing Courtney a little better, Max was a little surprised to find that Courtney knew a lot more about comics than Max did. Max had just watched the Spider-Man trilogy like, a dozen times or so. After spending last class period with Warren, Max was getting the impression they were out of the media loop.
"Okay, now, it looks like most of you are sitting in the same seat at last week. Why don't we try switching it up, so you're sitting with someone new?"
The teacher for this class, Ms. Hargrave, was a tall white woman in her late forties or early fifties with dark (dyed, question mark?) hair. She didn't talk a lot, as far as teachers go, letting the students' circle of desks guide the conversation on the book. It felt a lot like AP English, actually, just without the opportunity for college credit.
Max's eyes shifted away from the teacher back to Courtney for a moment, then shrugged before they both stood. Everyone converged into the middle of class for a few seconds like they had done over and over getting to know each other on the first day, then began to pair off. Max was terrible at this, of course, and everytime they looked to someone who looked friendly, that person made eye contact with someone else, raised a hand, and they veered off to the edge of the room.
It was a loose formation of visible pairs and triads when Max began to wonder if, somehow, they simply had been left out. That is, until they turned around, and found someone with a hand half-raised, as if trying to get their attention.
Oh. Kate.
"Hey Max."
"Hey Kate." Max paused for a brief second, then asked, "Do you want to . . .?" They gestured back and forth between themself and Kate.
Kate smiled a pinched smile and nodded before backing up, taking the chair Max had been sitting in half a minute ago. Max settled themself down in Courtney's former chair, and then the class was settled after a few more seconds.
As they launched into a discussion on how the Scarlet Pimpernel both resembled and contrasted modern and contemporary super heroes and vigilantes, Max's interest waned as they realized they knew considerably less than many of the other students. Luckily, Kate seemed to be having trouble with the topic too, as after a few minutes her eyes started to jump back and forth between her classmates and her notebook, where her notes were turning into margin doodles.
Pretty good margin doodles, actually.
"That's really cute," Max whispered, nodding at the cartoon scene forming on the page. Only one character was fully formed so far - a bird girl (judging by the eyelashes that cartoonists insist on to distinguish animal genders) with a wing held up, a single feather extended above like a finger. Next to her, just a torso, was a rabbit wearing a cross.
Kate turned a little to see Max, then back down at the page following their gesture. She pursed her lips a little, a little embarrassed as she tucked a tuft of her hair behind her ear.
"Thank you," Kate replied, even more quietly. Her eyes returned quickly to the professor as she started talking, but Max was a little less interested in the lecture now that they had a clearer look at the rabbit character.
"Is that, um, like your fursona?" Max asked. The cross matched the one on Kate's neck, so it seemed like an easy guess.
Kate's eyes widened in surprise for a fraction of a second, startled, shrugged just as quickly, and whispered back, "No. I mean, I just think it's cute. And it feels weird to actually draw people."
Max paused, but then asked, "But that's you, right? The bunny?"
To Max's surprise, Kate did not reply immediately, but instead blushed. "I mean . . . yeah."
Sounds like a fursona.
Max found Kate's embarrassment endearing, the color in her cheeks pretty and warm. They looked up from the page and straight at Kate now, which only dragged her attention away from the discussion entirely to look back at Max.
"Well," Max said dryly, "I think she's pretty cute."
Perhaps frightened by Max's attempts at flirting, Kate seemed only more uncomfortable, unable to look away for a few seconds before a student raising their hand drew her attention away again.
"Thank you," Kate whispered again.
Max packed up slowly after class, trying to somehow get their notebook, wallet, pen, and sticky notes to take as long as Kate's notebook, class reading, pen and pencil and highlighter that all fit into a pencil case, etc etc. Somehow they pulled it off, though, and they slung their bag over their shoulder as Kate put on her backpack.
Max took a hesitant step towards the door, hoping that Kate would oh-so-coincidentally decide to leave at the same time, but she made no move. Instead, her eyes just locked onto Max, who immediately froze.
"You're in room 219, right? Right across the hall from me? I'm in 222."
Max blinked, caught off guard. Then they responded, "Uh, yeah, that's me. I'm sorry, I didn't even notice we were neighbors. Has Victoria's stereo system been annoying you, too?"
Kate waved it off, finally working around her desk so they could leave. "Nah, I kind of like her music, actually. But I was thinking - because we've got this and Photography together and all, and we're neighbors - maybe you'd like to study together sometime? When I took two visual media classes, I thought I wouldn't have to read very much, but . . ."
Max nodded, "I made the same, fatal mistake. I thought - oh hey Courtney."
Courtney was obviously waiting for them, standing just outside the door with her eyes on her phone. As Max addressed her, though, Courtney plastered on a smile, just slow enough that Max didn't believe it.
"Hey Max," she said, then seemed to realize that Kate stopped just outside the door as well, awkwardly standing outside of Max and Courtney's conversation but obviously close enough to hear.
Kate initially looked around the hallway instead of at Courtney, but noticing that her eyes had fallen onto Kate, Kate's eyes dropped to her.
"Hey there Courtney. Long time no see."
With the same sort of sluggish delay as her smile, Courtney eventually responded, "Yeah, hey Katie."
After another uncomfortable second laden with way too much tension that Max didn't understand, Courtney looked back to Max and only reinforced her smile.
"Max. Did Taylor already invite you to the party Thursday? I was hoping you'd come spend some time with the Vortex Club, have some fun, and maybe," she raised the back of her hand to her mouth as if there was someone trying to overhear - but not Kate, as she wasn't even hiding her mouth from her - "some wine." She dropped her hand, clasping it over her phone instead. "Or vodka, if you're a vodka girl."
Max felt a little twinge of annoyance at 'girl', but shrugged it off. "Yeah, Taylor and Victoria grabbed me after photography to invite me. I'll come, I promise."
Pleased, Courtney slipped into a more natural smile. "Great. It should be a blast. Text me if you want details or anything," she said, already turning to go. "I'll see ya later, Max. Later . . . Kate."
"Yeah," Kate replied, then, when Courtney was too far away to hear, "I'll see you."
Max turned back to Kate, wondering why things had been so awkward between her and Courtney. However, while they were busy wondering, they were also just staring at Kate silently.
Kate pulled some strands that had fallen out of her bun down to her neck, then said, "Wait, yeah, I think you were saying something?"
Max blinked. "I was? What?"
Kate shrugged. "I dunno." Beat. "Oh! Right, I was inviting you to study. Media homework, lots, unexpected-" they began to walk together as she recounted the list, Kate rolling her hand as if trying to say 'et cetera' despite actually saying it all.
Max snapped their fingers into a finger gun, "- fatal mistake! Right, yeah."
When Max didn't follow up their realization with a response, Kate's eyes just shifted about awkwardly, puffing up her cheeks as she smiled in the awkwardness.
That helped Max remember to respond. "Oh, yeah. I mean, yes. I'd love to. I study way better with people anyway. When?"
As the two of them made it into the courtyard, Max nodded towards the fountain, and they sat down together. The sound of the fountain was pleasant white noise, drowning out the conversations of students scattered through the courtyard or leaving the classrooms.
Kate shrugged again, but still responded, "Oh, I don't know. I'm pretty busy on week days but maybe the weekend? We could actually go somewhere in town if we wanted. I don't have a car, but the town's pretty small. I mean, you're from Seattle, right?, so I guess it's all pretty quaint around here but-"
Max shook their head. "Actually, I grew up in the Bay."
Kate's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? I thought you were a big city girl visiting the Nowhere fishing village, like Victoria."
Max replied, "I'm nonbinary, actually."
Kate's face was blank, unreadable, as if Max had just spoken German mid-conversation. After a few seconds, though, "Oh, okay. So, uh, you're not a big city person, then?"
"Nope, not really." Max had forgotten where Victoria said she was from, but they did remember that it was a big city. Or was it just the clothes? People don't wear brand name clothes in towns with 4,000 people in them - most people wouldn't even recognize them if you did. Maybe that's how Victoria got her friends - she found the only two kids in town who would recognize a Louis Vuitton.
"Huh. Well, is there a place in town you'd like to go? I live a bit closer to Tillamook so I don't actually know Arcadia Bay that well."
"Oh, I don't know," Max said, looking forward. The only place that really came to mind was the Two Whales, but Max . . . wasn't so sure it was the right time to go just yet.
Probably not. Not like this.
"I don't really remember anywhere I liked to eat or anything."
Kate leaned forward, holding her chin up with her hand. "Hmm, all right. Well, I tried going downtown during move-in weekend, and there's some nice places there. There's like this coffee lounge I found and it's like the only place that sells vegan stuff in town, so I could stand to go check it out again. It was pretty quiet when I went there, at least."
Max fell quiet, rocking themself a little on the fountain's edge. They studied Kate more closely than they had allowed themself before - her messy bun starting to collapse on itself, her dark, starchy clothes, her unpainted nails, her leggings.
This is sounding more and more like a date. Am I crazy? Or just wishfully gay?
"Hmm," Max hummed, the need to respond forgotten. Kate turned her head back towards Max, cocking her head in curiosity.
She was . . . definitely pretty. If she wanted to, she could be very pretty.
Maybe she's one of those open-minded Christians. She seemed cool when I said I was nonbinary, at least. Maybe she's from one of those churches with gay pastors who believes in Love Thy Neighbor and the Sermon on the Mount and that stuff. Or maybe . . .
Max scanned over Kate's backpack, her clothes, her nails, anything for a potential sign that Kate was queer, but there was nothing. No pride flags, no catchy slogans, just a few buttons of pandas, bigfoots, a UFO, and the Human Rights Campaign logo. But even straight people would show off that logo these days.
Apparently, Max had been sitting and staring long enough for Kate to get uncomfortable, because she finally cut the silence with an "Um."
Max blinked in an effort to clear their head, then replied, "That sounds cool. Just, like, let me know when works for you this weekend? I don't think I have much going on this weekend," except maybe a hangover Friday, Max silently tacked on.
And for what Max realized was the first time they'd seen, Kate smiled brightly. "Awesome, thank you. Maybe I'll buy you some tea to thank you for letting me drag you to the vegan place."
The fact that Max didn't know if they were being flirted with or not left them nervous, but also a little excited. Kate smiling was something special, Max could already tell.
Maybe there could be more of it over a cup of tea and an art theory textbook.
September 3, 6:18pm
Victoria: do you seriously have nothing to wear
Max: I seriously dont.
Max: I like things that are soft and familiar, and that usually means I bought it in the ninth grade.
Victoria: wow
Victoria: i'm genuinely impressed you managed to get Courtney to learn your name wearing anything from last season
Victoria: what did you do
Max: I showed her a really neat vape trick and she was like 'Wow, Max, that was incredible, do you want to be friends?'
Victoria: tell me you're joking
Victoria: like i know the story is bullshit but you don't actually vape do you
Victoria: is there secretly a giant douchebag hiding in that tiny body that only comes out to make vape trick Youtube videos
Max: Ah, yes, I drank a mysterious concoction and now he emerges sometimes without warning
Victoria: genderfluid femme/douche
Max: If smoking weed is douchey then you're actually not far off
Victoria: it's a little douchey
Victoria: but don't worry, everyone in this entire school is a douche
Victoria: you'll blend right in
September 3, 6:55pm
Victoria: speaking of which we should smoke sometime
Max: That sounds cool. Maybe at the party Thursday?
Victoria: sure. God knows there will be enough weed there to hotbox the gym so maybe we'll get stoned just from going.
Max: That sounds awful.
Max: Does seriously everyone smoke? Like I know it's Oregon but still.
Victoria: i'm pretty sure Courtney is literally the only person here who doesn't spend every other weekend lying on the floor watching their hand move before they realize it's been two hours.
Max: Courtney seems... idk, intense? Like in a cool way.
Max: I feel like I'm a high school student but she's the HR person for a shady law firm or something.
Victoria: Courtney's . . . courtney.
A notification appeared at the top of Max's screen notifying them that somebody by the name of bitch-in-training had started following them on Instagram. When they tabbed over, the Instagram turned out to be Victoria's. The top two rows were a mix of selfies and candid shots of Taylor, every one of which looked like it had been carefully picked or cleverly staged.
Victoria: half this school's clubs would die without her, though, she...
The rest of the message cut off, and Max was too busy scrolling down Victoria's Instagram to check. It looked like there was a photo or two every day, although about a month back there was a huge chunk of photos of what looked like Victoria exploring Rome. If anyone had gone with her, they weren't in the photos - just Victoria, beautiful buildings, and clothes Max would never be able to afford. For some reason, Max's envy of Victoria's materialism only encouraged them to keep scrolling, occasionally clicking to read comments. Almost every picture had upward of 100 likes, and there was a read replies bar for all of the thirsty comments and emojis boys left.
God, they're gross, Max thought, dismissing a photo of Taylor and Victoria together where one of the messages had been particularly . . . fetishy.
But then, Max stumbled across a photo quite unlike the others. For one, Victoria had obviously not taken it, because she was the model. Secondly, the background was so dark that Victoria was the only thing clearly visible. Thirdly, she was only in her underwear, both of which were black and patternless. Lastly, whether because of the lighting on her or the camera filters or her makeup (probably all of these), her skin was so bright that it looked like it glowed, and her underwear was so dark that pieces of her seemed like part of the background rather than the foreground, though there was just enough glare to make it clear that wasn't true.
Max bit their lip nervously, dropping their eyes down to the caption quickly, embarrassed. This caption was much longer than the rest.
bitch-in-training
It's been almost three years since I started taking hrt. Despite everything I might say on here, it's hard to believe this body is mine after so long. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I don't even recognize myself, and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But this is who I am. I'm a sexy bitch. And I love every second of it.
Credit to @madking95 for the photo.
#transgender #transfemme #personal #hrt #3yearshrt
Curious, Max tapped on the link to madking95, but found all of the pictures locked. Its description read only "Portfolio rejects and commissions / Vortex Club RULES"
Max tapped to request access, then went back to Victoria's page to follow her Instagram. The page had left a question gnawing on Max's mind - or maybe it had just made it chew harder.
Max: Is Taylor your gf?
'gf' is more casual than girlfriend, right? I'm not being weird?
Victoria: no?
Victoria: she's basically my sister
Victoria: where'd that come from?
Max: Oh okay.
Max: And kind of your Instagram but also kind of just . . . I dont know.
Max: I guess you two just seemed cute.
Victoria: well we are
Victoria: just not like that
Max wasn't sure how to respond, but, luckily, after a minute or so, another message appeared from Victoria.
Victoria: you could basically just ask to play with her hair and she's basically yours if you want to ask her out, though
Max: Not exactly the plan but good to know I guess?
Max: Could I play with her hair and not ask her out?
Victoria: idk............. that sounds dangerous
Max: Well Ive been known to be dangerous.
Max: You know. Sometimes. In a cool way.
Victoria: oh?
After about three solid minutes of deliberation, Max pressed 'Like' on Victoria's black and white portrait. After just a few seconds, the "..." appeared next to Victoria's name, but it was at least a minute before she actually responded.
Victoria: oh.
And try though they might, Max couldn't think of any smooth follow-up. Left with the options of either playing it off or trying to be smooth, Max opted for the third choice.
Just stop texting and try and do some homework instead.
In which alt!Max gets a voicemail from Chloe at 3am, that is the kick she needs to actually call her friend for once.
Max wouldn’t call herself a heavy sleeper, but she wasn’t the world’s lightest sleeper either. Nevertheless, her cellphone ringing at whatever time this was in the morning jolted her out of a weird dream to the darkness of her dorm bedroom. She rubbed sleep out of her eyes, taking a few seconds to fully register her phone really was ringing.
Who calls at this hour?
She could grab her cellphone off her night table within arm’s reach, but it was whateverthefuck in the morning and Max rolled over on her other side, curling up under the blankets.
I’ll check later-
Her voicemail cut off the ringing and an automated voice, monotonous and robotic, told Max that she got a call from a number that sounded vaguely familiar at 3:41am.
Probably some stupid scammer.
The strained, feminine voice, sounding almost close to tears, told Max that it was definitely not a scammer.
“Hey Max…”
The speaker was no scammer. It was Chloe Price.
Shit. I’d meant to see her “soon”.
Max would never admit it aloud, that her deep fear of being unpopular, ostracised, always on the outside looking in, wasn’t the only reason she threw herself into becoming part of the Vortex Club. As long as she was partying, smoking pot, going clubbing, and hanging out with the popular crowd, she could forget any guilt over never having visited Chloe despite the latter’s severe disability. Letters, photos, and cards at least took the edge off that guilt, but not by that much.
“It’s…me, Chloe.” A pause, filled with what sounded like an exhalation then a strained, shaky inhalation. “I can’t sleep.”
Now that you’ve woken me up, neither can I.
“The pain’s getting worse…so fucking worse every day…morphine won’t cut it sometimes.” Another sharp inhalation, followed by a deep cough. “My head hurts so much–I want to…Max, I can’t do this anymore. I never have anyone visit me. All my friends bailed on me.” A bitter laugh. “See? I’m just a burden. On my friends, my family, my parents…they can’t even pay the fucking bills. I can’t even go anywhere. I’m fucking sick of it, Max. Fucking sick of being a burden, of having to rely on everyone for everything, even basic shit like…shitting. A fucking baby can do more than me, I might as well be a vegetable.”
In the long silence that followed, broken only by Chloe’s coughing and another strained breath or two, Max curled up into herself under the blankets, wrapping her arms around her knees.
“Max–I understand.”
Understand what?
“…I understand why you won’t visit me. I’m useless, boring–can’t even go to a rave or check out concerts. We’d so sneak into a concert together, right?”
Max couldn’t help a little smile–she’d snuck into numerous concerts that were for 21 and over so many times she needed both hands to count.
“Even getting ready in the morning takes a fucking hour at best. Such bullshit. I want to be a teenager, and that prick who totalled my baby took that from me. At least…at least I have one thing to look forward to.”
My imminent visit in the distant near future, right?
“I’ll be out of this hell before Christmas. My respiratory system is failing, and I–I’m not going to see Christmas. At least then I won’t be a burden on anyone anymore. Even you. I can die, and–and then people can–” A shuddering breath, followed by a soft sound like she was wincing in pain. “Forget me.”
The voicemail beeped, cutting off the message, leaving Max curled up in dark, ringing silence. She just lay there in the dark, pillow cradling her head, sheets tangled around her, the voicemail still echoing in her head. Chloe’s strained breathing, the awful coughing that interrupted her every other sentence, the realisation that she was not okay, like Max had believed for all the years since Chloe’s accident. She’d had the impression all this time that Chloe was being strong, was doing well, no idea all this time that she was, in truth, dying.
She was not okay.
Shit. Shit. I didn’t know. Didn’t know she was–fuck, I thought you were–god, Chloe, I never forgot you. I just thought you were okay.
Max considered going back to sleep and responding in the morning, or just calling Chloe now. She’d called her at weirder hours of night back when Max had lived in Arcadia Bay. Hell, they’d gabbed forever at stupidly early hours of night, talking in nervous whispers and muffled giggles, trying to see how long they could stay up chatting until their parents woke up and told them off for being awake on the phone at 2am.
She could wait until a saner hour, and it was tempting to do so, until Max imagined Chloe lying in the dark, unable to move, with only her thoughts for company–and from what Max heard, not the happiest of thoughts either.
She’s probably still awake now. Chloe, you never told me you were…
Max uncurled herself and rolled over to face her night table again, reaching to grab her phone, unlocking it and going straight to her contacts. It was already four in the morning, still really fucking early to call anyone–unless they were your best friend whom you had no idea was dying from her injuries all this time.
Scrolling through her contacts, Max found Chloe’s number, her finger hovering over the screen, a pang of bittersweet nostalgia in her heart, wishing she had a happier excuse to call her childhood best friend at four in the morning.
Now or never, Max.
She hit the call button, pressing the phone to her ear, waiting for the call to be picked up or go to voicemail. Max counted five rings before they stopped, replaced by Chloe’s sleepy voice, still strained, still so hoarse and quiet. Yet, Max heard that little hopeful note creeping in to her words.
“Max? You’re calling me at this hour?”
“Your call woke me up,” Max whispered, heart beating a little faster–from nervousness or nostalgia, she wasn’t sure which, perhaps both. “I had to call you back. Why’d you never tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you’re…” Max couldn’t bring herself to say the word dying. “That you won’t see Christmas. That your respiratory system is failing. I had no idea, Chloe. I’d thought you were doing okay. That you were hanging in there, like the strong, stubborn Chloe I know.”
A long silence.
“Chloe?”
“I guess I just–didn’t want to rain on your parade, you know?”
“I really wish you’d just been honest with me, that–” Max’s voice caught in her throat, and she took a deep breath. “You’re not a burden, okay?”
“I am–”
“Not to me. Chloe, there’s no way I want to forget you. Really.”
“Everyone else did. I only ever get letters from you now. Not that you cared enough to visit me yet.”
The bitterness in Chloe’s words was almost too much to bear–if Max had her own car, she’d sneak out right now and drive straight over Chloe’s place.
“Chloe…” Max sat up, wondering if it was worth it to call a taxi, never mind that it was so fucking early. “I actually do care. You matter. Hell, you matter enough that I’m calling you at four in the morning because I hated to let you suffer alone after hearing your voicemail. I had no idea–like no fucking idea–that you’re not as okay as I’d hoped. That you’re in so much pain every day.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Doesn’t mean you should suffer alone, okay?”
“I don’t have much choice do I?”
“Chloe, you don’t have to pretend to be anything, okay? I’m still your best friend, right?”
“…right.”
“Remember when we’d call each other at stupid hours of morning all the time?”
“Happier times.”
Happier times…
“Chloe, promise me, okay? Promise me that you’ll call me anytime. And I do mean anytime. Like one in the fucking morning anytime. Like we used to.”
“A hell of a lot harder now, even with this app.”
“Chloe. Promise me.”
Another silence, before Chloe spoke again.
“Promise.”
“Swear on it.”
A series of coughs interrupted the line from Chloe’s end, followed by a couple more struggling breaths. The line fell quiet for a few moments before Chloe spoke again.
“I swear I’ll call you if I need to talk. Even if it’s one in the morning.”
“You best honour that now, Chloe Price. I know you’d make me do the same too, right?”
“Right.”
“Hell, I’ll call a taxi at three in the morning if I have to, just to come keep you company. Pretty sure your parents won’t mind.”
“They’d love it,” Chloe said, her voice much lighter now, to Max’s relief. “Thanks, Max. I’m…glad you called.”
“So am I. Don’t be a stranger. Even if I’m busy with socialising and homework, that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten you. Understood?”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Victoria Chase, Maxine "Max" Caulfield & Chloe Price, Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price
Characters: Maxine "Max" Caulfield, Victoria Chase (Life is Strange), Chloe Price (Life Is Strange)
Additional Tags: Alternate Timeline, AU of the alternate timeline, Alt!max, Alt!Chloe, alt!Max is also deeply self-deprecating
Summary:
(AU of the Alternate Timeline in LiS)
Maxine Caulfield wakes up after a night of partying it up and clubbing for her eighteenth birthday to discover a text on her cellphone:
"Max, it’s with a saddened heart I have to tell you Chloe passed away last night, 21st September, at 11:30pm."
She resolves to visit Chloe one more time, like the hypocrite that she is.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Chloe Price (Life Is Strange), Maxine "Max" Caulfield, Minor Characters, minor OCs
Additional Tags: Alternate Timeline, Alt!max, Alt!Chloe, alternate timeline of THE alternate timeline, tw: car crash, Hospitals
Summary: "She doesn’t remember taking off, yelling after Chloe, sprinting into the road, her only thought to save her..." Instead of Chloe ending up in the car crash in the alternate timeline, it is Max who ends up paralysed when she saves her childhood friend from being the victim of a speeding car when crossing the road. Chloe swears she will always visit her and never bail even if all of Max's other friends end up doing so.
I’ve been thinking a bit about in the future writing another fic (or two or whatever) that’s kind of a “sequel” to this, especially in the future. I can see alt!Chloe definitely looking up all the scholarships she can to get into a university in Washington (preferably IN Seattle), just so she can be close to Max. Chloe, being the straight-A student she is in this universe, wouldn’t find it too hard to get a scholarship, and thus get into a uni in Seattle or thereabouts. Hell, if the Caulfields offered her a place to stay at their house for however long, Chloe would absolutely take it.
I can also see alt!Max’s friends at first being all supportive and everything, but eventually sort of drift off and forget about her--except for Chloe, of course, who, true to her words in the fic, would never abandon Max, even despite being in a whole other state. I wouldn’t be surprised if she makes her parents drive her up to Seattle to visit Max whenever she can, especially over the winter and summer holidays when she doesn’t have school to worry about.
As for Max’s photography passion? She’d definitely try not to think about it, perhaps to the point of not wanting any reminders of her love of photography, even asking her parents to get rid of all her photography books and even her own camera - unlike the Prices, who’d just put all that stuff in the attic or a spare room, I can see the Caulfields possibly selling it all, including the camera (hey, they can get back all that money Max “borrowed” off their credit card for more film!)
Chloe would not hear of Max giving up her photography entirely, and come up with creative solutions that helps Max keep it going, like a podcast (ironic, considering her less than favourable views in the original alt!timeline), and trying to figure out a contraption that allows Max to take photos (maybe something a little along the lines of original alt!Chloe’s mouth-operated joystick/mouse). Of course when they’re together, she’d offer to hold the camera for her and Max can direct her to the picture the latter wants to frame.
