I used to not know what people meant when they talked about a “tense silence”. Of course, by the time I found myself in the middle of this particular tense silence, I had experienced my fair share. With my parents when I got my first C on my report card, with my teacher when I was held back after class for talking too much, with my best friend when I saw her for the first time after not talking to her for five years…

I press my head against the cold window, replaying that particular moment over and over again in my head. The way her expression had gone from shock to bitterness; the hint of resentment in her voice as she told me about how much I had fucked up over the last five years; the awkward, silent drive. I’ve definitely had my fair share of those this past week. How could I have been so stupid, so insanely vain, to not even call her once a week? I guess I was scared, scared that the distance would break us apart eventually. So, why not just get it over with? Why not just abandon one of the people you loved most in the world at the time when she needed you the most she’s ever needed you? Definitely one of your greatest ideas, Super Max.

A shiver goes down my spine. Super Max. That was one of Chloe’s favourite nicknames for me over this past week. I used to like it, I thought it was kinda cute, to tell the truth. But now… just the idea of being “super” makes me sick to my stomach. What I’ve done, what I used my “power” for, wasn’t super. It was evil, it was selfish. I destroyed an entire town, the town I grew up in for fourteen years, I killed thousands of people, just for the person who can’t look me in the eyes now even though she’s sitting right next to me. When I need her the most.

I don’t even know what I would say to her at this point. “Sorry I was directly responsible for your mother’s death, could you turn the AC on?” So I decide not to make myself open to conversation. I face away from her, I pull my knees up to my chin, I shut myself off from her. Not because I don’t want her, not because I don’t need her. I need her more than anything, but I know what I’ve done to her. Yet again, I destroyed her life.

Max Caulfield, Professional Life Destroyer. The ghost of a smile attempts to tug at the corners of my mouth, but my lips feel like they’re coated in cement, unable to move. It feels like years since I last smiled, since I last laughed. Since Chloe last laughed. She used to laugh at everything, we could look at each other a certain way and we’d burst out laughing. But I don’t think I’ve heard her laugh since Thursday. For the Chloe Price I knew, not laughing for two full days would be cause for mass panic. But for this Chloe Price, the broken, angry girl who’s been through more in the last five years than most people will go through in their entire lives, it felt normal.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Chloe’s slender fingers fiddle with a knob on the dashboard, and music starts coming from the speakers in the car. “Spanish Sahara,” she says, finally speaking for the first time since we left Arcadia Bay. Her voice is rough, like she’s forcing the words out of her throat. “One of my favourite songs, I forgot to play it for you when we had the time...” Her voice trails off sadly. I don’t acknowledge her, instead letting the music just wash over me.

Forget the horror here,

Forget the horror here,

Leave it all down here,

It’s future rust and it’s future dust.

I feel a lump in my throat as my eyes start to sting. I blindly reach for the volume knob, twisting it the opposite way that Chloe twisted it. I can feel her glaring at me, but I can’t look at her, especially not now when I’m crying like a baby. What right did I have to be upset? It was her family that had been killed, her friends, her home. I try to focus on the trees lining the road outside, just a green and brown blur against the blue sky. I hear the music again.

I’m the fury in your head,

I’m the fury in your bed,

I’m the ghost in the back of your head.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping and praying that when I open them I’m back in my dorm at Blackwell, or back in Seattle with my parents, or anywhere but right here, right now. I open my eyes. Those same trees I was staring at a minute ago are still whizzing past us, along with cars flying down the road going the opposite direction to us. Maybe they're going to Arcadia Bay to try and rescue their loved ones. But they won’t find any survivors, there’s no way. They’ll be going to mourn their loved ones. Their loved ones that I killed.

Forget the horror here,

Leave it all down here.

“Can you turn the music off please,” I finally say, my voice barely a whisper. For a minute, I’m not sure Chloe hears me, but eventually she complies with my request and turns the music’s volume back down to zero. I expect her to yell, to ask me why I’m acting like a baby, to demand that I bring her mom back from the dead, but she doesn’t. She’s silent. And that feels so much worse than if she were shouting. At least then I would know that she hates me.

I don’t even know how long we’ve been driving for anymore. One hour? Two? Eight? I know it’s definitely Saturday, but the time was blank in my mind. It could only be thirty minutes since we left for all I know. All I really do know is that part of me wants this silent ride to last forever, and part of me wants nothing more than to evaporate on the spot. Eventually, I feel the truck come to a slow stop and the engine stops rumbling. There’s total silence now. I never noticed how loud that engine was. I guess after listening to it for so long, you-

“I’m gonna get out and smoke, you should probably stretch your legs too,” Chloe says suddenly. I swear she saw me jump a little when she started talking, it was too obvious to miss. When I hear the sound of the car door slamming shut and her lighter flicking to life, I laboriously open the door to my side of the truck and pull myself out. The sun is out in full force, right at the top of the sky, which means it’s about noon. “Max Caulfield, Human Sundial,” I can practically hear that in Warren’s voice… more tears burn my eyes. I make sure my back is to Chloe before I wipe my eyes, which also wipes away some of the blood and dirt that cakes my face.

“Max,” Chloe’s voice again. It sounds softer this time, like she’s consciously forcing herself to be gentle with me. “Can we please talk about this? I’m worried about you,” I keep my back to her, even as her voice gets closer and I hear her footsteps behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her hand hovering above my shoulder, like she’s deciding whether she wants to comfort me or shove me to the ground. Slowly, she lowers her hand back to her side, I can hear her sigh in frustration.

“Whatever,” her voice is colder now. “Just get back in the truck when you’re ready.” She stomps away from me, the car door slams, and I’m alone again. But I don’t want to be alone. I want to wrap my arms around her, I want to feel her fingers running through my hair, I want to cry into her shirt, I want to smell the remnants of the perfume she put on yesterday, I want her. I need her. But I don’t deserve her, I never did. I look out at the vast expanse of woodland that this little layby overlooks. The massive trees swaying gently in the wind, the birds flying out of trees en masse. To think that all this beauty can still exist after all the death and destruction we’ve experienced, that I’ve caused… I shake the thought from my head, taking a deep breath before walking back to the truck, head down so as to not look at Chloe. As soon as I sit down and close the door, I pull my knees back up to my chest, leaning my head against the window again. Chloe breathes in like she’s about to say something, but evidently decides against it. The engine sputters to life, and soon enough we’re back on the road. I close my eyes, the sun shines on my face, my fists slowly unclench…

I’m standing in the middle of the junkyard. Chloe’s junkyard. It’s late at night, but I can’t see the moon anywhere in the sky. The only source of light I can see is a small fire inside Chloe and Rachel’s old hideout. I start to walk, stumbling in the darkness, when I hear a voice, Chloe’s voice.

You killed my mom…

“No, I didn’t mean to.”

You’re so selfish, she didn’t deserve to die in a fucking hurricane.

“I didn’t want to lose you, Chloe.”

What do you have to gain from keeping me alive? You know I love Rachel more than you, right?

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. In the back of my mind, I always suspected it. Ever since I first saw Chloe again, all she could talk about was Rachel. It was never “Max and Chloe working together to serve justice,” it was always “Max and Chloe working together to get Rachel back.” I was the rebound, the ignorant, naïve former best friend who Chloe saw as more of a sidekick to find Rachel than anything else.

“Chloe please, I love you.” My voice sounds so far away. I hear her laugh.

Oh, spare me the mushy shit. You ruined my fucking life, why would I ever love you? First you leave after my dad dies, then you kill my mom and try to get with me when I’m mourning my real true love. You’re evil, all you’ve done is make my life hell. Get out of my life, Max.

“Chloe…”

I said get out, Max. Max!

“Max!” There’s a hand on my shoulder, Chloe’s hand. I open my eyes, squinting against the fluorescent lights shining directly in my eyes. I groan as I sit up, raising my hand towards my neck as a sharp pain shoots through it.

“You’ve been asleep for a while, that must hurt,” Chloe says sympathetically, to which I nod slowly. “I’m gonna go in to pay for the gas and get some grub, what do you want?” Her voice is softer now than the last time she spoke to me, but her harsh words from my dream still ring in my head. Just thinking about it makes me sick.

“I’m not hungry,” I mumble, turning away from her slightly. She laughs gently, but it isn’t her usual hearty laugh that made my stomach do somersaults whenever I heard it. This laugh is cold, hollow.

“Bullshit, you haven’t eaten since last night.” Just to prove her point, my stomach rumbles loudly. I feel my face turn bright red. “Thought so. Look, Max, you can’t just avoid talking about this forever.” I can see her reaching for my hand, but I turn away, now facing my window with my entire body. She sighs sadly. There’s silence for a moment before she opens her door and steps out. I can hear her footsteps getting further and further away. And, yet again, I’m alone. I look around at the gas station briefly. It seems like we’re in the middle of nowhere, the road to the side of the gas station is empty, and the sky is tinged a dark purple. I glance at my watch to check the time, but, just my luck, the watch is busted. I guess I didn’t have much need for a watch this week. I put my face in my hands, exhaling deeply. At this point, I have no idea whether Chloe hates me or feels sorry for me, or maybe a mixture of both. She seems more upset by me not talking than by what I did to her, which is seriously wrinkling my brain. She should be screaming at me, but she’s being calm, gentle… loving… The driver’s door of the truck opens suddenly. I quickly take my face out of my hands, wiping at my eyes. I glance up at Chloe for the first time since we left Arcadia Bay, and my heart sinks.

Her usually lively, piercing eyes are sunken and bloodshot, and they look puffy from crying. Her face is coated in grime and blood, her hair looks like it’s plastered to her head. She’s holding two sandwiches in her hands, and I wince slightly at the amount of dirt behind her typically well-maintained fingernails. She tosses one of the sandwiches at me before she gets in the truck with a sigh.

“I didn’t really know what to get you, so I figured ham and cheese was a safe bet,” she says, unwrapping her own sandwich. Despite my saying I wasn’t hungry, I tear at the plastic surrounding the cheap sandwich, eating half of it in one bite. I hear Chloe laugh, a warmer laugh this time. My heart skips a beat. “So much for not being hungry,” she says, her words muffled by her own sandwich, which almost makes me laugh. Almost. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the truck are that of rustling plastic and chewing. When we’re both done, Chloe puts her hands on the steering wheel, but doesn’t start the truck. She closes her eyes, mouthing something to herself that I can’t make out, until she turns towards me seriously.

“Max, we have to talk about this,” she says, almost begging. My lips go dry.

“I-I’m not ready,” I croak, already beginning to pull my legs up onto the seat to shut myself off from her. Suddenly, I feel her hand on my knee. I look into her eyes slowly, and my heart shatters. Her eyes are brimming with tears, pleading with me to just talk to her.

“I’m not gonna let you just sit here and blame yourself for everything,” Chloe says in a whisper. I break eye contact with her, instead focusing on her hand, the way her fingers are squeezing my knee gently. “I care about you too much.” Those last words cut through me like a knife. And then I think of Rachel. Of how different this conversation would be if I was replaced by Rachel. Would she have said love you instead of care about you ?

“Not as much as you cared about Rachel,” I blurt out. Instantly, Chloe draws her hand away from me. Shit.

“Max, what the fuck?” Her voice is full of pain, shock, maybe even anger. I shake my head.

“Sorry, I just wanna s-”

“No, we’re talking about this.” She sounds upset, all pretense of sympathy and understanding gone from her voice. “What’s your fucking problem with Rachel?”

“I don’t have-”

“Bullshit, I know you have a problem with Rachel. I saw your face whenever I brought her up, you only cared about helping me so you could play detective for your BFF Kate, not because you actually wanted to find Rachel.”

“Chloe, I-”

“You know, unlike you, Rachel was actually there for me. She didn’t abandon me when I needed her, she didn’t leave and ghost me for five fucking years. She-”

“I get it!” I finally shout, my head in my hands. “Rachel was perfect, she was the prettiest, most badass person ever and I’m just plain, boring Max Caulfield. I’m that girl who ditched you, I’m that girl who thought she was too good for you. Well I’m sorry for all that shit, Chloe! I didn’t ghost you for five years to hurt you, I did it to save myself from the pain of us drifting apart. I didn’t want us to slowly stop being Max and Chloe, I didn’t want to hear about how you had new best friends when I had nobody in Seattle. Because you were everything to me, Chloe! I was miserable without you! And when I came back, I thought I could make it up to you, I thought I could finally… I thought I could finally tell you everything I didn’t get the chance to before I left. But you were too preoccupied with Rachel, and I knew you wouldn’t feel the same as me, and…” I stop myself before saying what’s on the tip of my tongue. Chloe stares at me, stunned into silence.

“And what?” She finally whispers. I feel tears running down my face.

“And I love you too much to lose you.” These last words are a faint whisper. I swallow deeply, trying to stop the burning in my throat. I can feel Chloe’s eyes boring into me, but I just put my head against the window, closing my eyes tightly.

“Max…” she whispers.

“I need to sleep,” I reply bluntly. Silence. Then, the truck rumbles to life, and the tires screech against the asphalt underneath them, and we’re moving. I listen to Chloe’s soft breathing, to the sounds of the tires on the road, to the birds chirping and owls hooting softly, and I feel myself slowly fade away.

I open my eyes to find myself in someone’s house. It’s a house I don’t recognise, but I can tell that whoever lives here has a similar sense of interior design to me. That is, none at all. Somewhere in the house, a baby starts crying. There’s a groan behind me.

“I’ll handle it.” Chloe’s voice? I whip around and feel a part of my brain fall off. In front of me, Chloe stands up from some kind of dining table. Her hair is longer, only dyed at the tips, and she’s wearing... one of my hoodies?

“Thanks, hun.” I turn to my right, towards the source of the voice. It’s… me? Her hair is longer and tied into a ponytail, her eyes look more tired, but it’s definitely still me. An older version of me, living with Chloe… I look at Dream Max’s hand. There’s a small gold ring on her fourth finger, my fourth finger. We’re married? My heart rate increases. Is this a look into my future? Into our future? Future Chloe walks into a room at the end of the hall and comes back a minute later carrying an infant in her arms, soothing it as it wails.

“Come say hi to your kid, Maximus. Max,”

“Max!” My eyes snap open. I’m back in the truck, orange light is flooding the inside as we sit on the side of the road at a dead stop. My head is nestled in Chloe’s lap, and she’s looking out of the window with a smile. “Look,” she says quietly. Slowly, I sit up and follow her gaze to the sunrise outside the window. Way in the distance, I can see the ruins of Arcadia Bay, looking more like a child’s playset than a real town where real people died. Chloe sighs softly. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? In a weirdly morbid way,” she mutters.

“Yeah, I guess…” I reply quietly. She’s silent for a moment.

“Look, I was thinking about what you said about Rachel, and I realised I haven’t been completely honest with you either.” She says each word slowly, like she’s putting a lot of thought into saying the exact right thing. “After you left and my dad died, I was alone for a couple years. I had a couple decent friends, but nobody like you. When Rachel popped up, she kinda filled that void that you left. And then, when she…” Chloe hesitates. I lay my hand on top of hers gently, surprised at how cold her hand is. She takes a deep, shaky breath. “When she disappeared, it was like when you left. But this time, I guess I was more upset because I thought she had just left without telling me. Anyway, it reminded me of when you left, but this time I thought there was a chance I could get her back. I needed there to be a chance to get her back. All I wanted was for someone to stick with me, to not leave me when I needed them, and I thought Rachel was gonna be that person. But, while I was so high on her, I missed what was right under my nose this whole week.” She smiles at me, and I feel my heart skip a beat.

“Chloe, I-”

“Just, hold on, Max. I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last week. Time to think about you, about Rachel, about what I want and need. And when I think over the last week, you know what stands out to me most? The moments with you. Saving you from that dickbag Nathan, walking the train tracks with you, breaking into Blackhell’s swimming pool with you, kissing you in my bedroom…” her voice trails off. “And, I realised something I think I always knew, but just never wanted to acknowledge. I loved Rachel, I really did, but when I think about her, about us , I realise she didn’t love me. Not in the same way. But, with you… it doesn’t feel that way. I knew you loved me, Max. And not in the family way, or the best friend way. You’re not good at hiding when you have a crush on someone. You never have been.” She grins at me as I feel my cheeks burn. “I figured it out on Wednesday, after you kissed me. If our lives weren’t so fucked up over the last week, I would’ve confronted you about it, but that doesn’t really matter anymore. The point is… we’re here now. You were in the worst possible situation, with no good outcome, and you chose me. And I’m glad you did, because it means I can finally tell you all this shit. I can finally say what I’ve been wanting to say since we were kids.” She takes another deep breath, her eyes shut tight. We’re both silent for a minute, before she turns her hand slightly, and interlocks her fingers with mine.

“I love you, Max Caulfield. I always have.” She says finally, staring at her shoes. “We’re in this together, and no matter what happens to us, I’ll always love you.” Finally, she looks up and into my eyes. My throat feels dry, I try to say something but the words get stuck in my throat.

“Chloe, I - I don’t know what to say,” I finally whisper. Could I be any lamer? But, instead of rolling her eyes or getting mad, Chloe smiles.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispers back. Her fingers, still interlocked with mine, tighten slightly. My breathing becomes shallow. Almost in slow motion, I watch as Chloe leans towards me, her eyes fluttering shut, her lips parting slightly. I mirror her, feeling like I’m moving through tar as I gently place my free hand on her waist. Her lips brush against mine, causing goosebumps to rise up all along my arms.

Finally, our lips collide, and she squeezes my hand tightly. I can taste the day-old cigarettes, smell the chemicals in her hair dye. Her other hand is tangled in my hair at the back of my head, her fingers gripping lightly. It’s like everything I had imagined our first real kiss being. Slow, soft, loving. It feels like time stopped when our lips touched, like the rest of the world faded away leaving just the two of us, locked in an embrace that never had to end. Chloe lets go of my hand and reaches up, brushing a lock of hair out of my face as I feel my cheeks burn. She smiles against my lips and breaks the kiss, leaning her forehead against mine. Slowly, I pry my eyes open, my lips still parted slightly as if Chloe hadn’t just broken the kiss. We look into each other’s eyes for a moment, and I’m painfully aware of Chloe’s hand cupping my cheek, tracing small circles on my face with her thumb. I want to say something, but again, words seem to fail me.

“Wowsers,” I finally mumble, which makes Chloe laugh.

“Dork,” she says quietly. She moves her head slightly to kiss me on the tip of my nose before sitting back up properly. “We’ve got another hour of driving till we hit Seattle. Ready?” She asks, grabbing my hand again. Finally, for the first time since Thursday, I smile. I squeeze her hand gently.

“Ready.”