@clickwhirr
oh god, had she really been gone for three months? it wasn’t like she went anywhere as far as she knew-- she wasn’t transported back anywhere. it was like sleeping in and missing a whole day, except like if you were in a hospital in a coma and they had sold your house and dumped you at a bus station. no storm, no max, no dreaming, just darkness for what seemed like seconds and waking up once more confused as hell. it felt like a joke was being played on her.
once her new home was found, she didn’t give a fuck about anything else beyond finding max and making sure she was okay. her drive was akin to someone late for work, she didn’t have any common sense or patience and was just rushing to find her, like she was against the clock. she had gotten to the train station and had almost purchased a ticket to cotes before it occurred to her that she had a phone and if max was here, her number would be in it. one aggravated facepalm, a short conversation, and a lengthy train ride later, she was standing in-front of the iron rose. there had been no kind of indication as to what sort of business it was from the short conversation they had, but the fact that it was a flower shop didn’t shock chloe. actually, it made perfect sense for max. she was an artist after all. her phone buzzed as she opened the door (fuck, she had really just ignored all of max’s messages since the train huh), and apprehension settled in her throat as she looked around. she shouldn’t be this wound up, it was just max, and this wasn’t like a fucking dive bar; it was like the most lax place on earth wherever. but the choked up feeling, it was a lot of things, but it was mostly guilt and fear over the fact that she had hurt max badly without even meaning to. it didn’t make any sense, it was just one of those irrational thoughts that she dealt with and she knew that, but fuck if she wasn’t anxious. ❝ Max? ❞ chloe called, walking towards the checkout counter. the entire store was quiet aside from the gentle hum of the radio and the tap of her boots against the tile flooring. a step shy of the counter she stopped and turned, drawn to the display case filled with simple bouquets pre-made for sale. she wondered if max made any of them. maybe i should buy her some flowers, the fleeting thought crossed her mind as she admired a pretty white and pink arrangement. fuck, wait, don’t get ahead of yourself, dude. you don’t even know if she thinks that way about you. it was obvious she was very much trying to avoid the “not my max” thoughts. ❝ Hello? Max? ❞
