Chapter Text
four years after the storm
The air was thick with tension in the motel room tonight, a silence that hung heavy like a storm cloud ready to burst. I sat on the edge of the bed, fingers nervously tracing the frayed edges of a notebook I’d managed to hang on to. Almost four years had passed since the tragic storm reshaped the entirety of Arcadia Bay, leaving us with nothing but a shitty truck, adrenaline coursing through our veins, and each other.
We had each other.
Now, in a dimly lit motel room somewhere in the heart of the Midwest, it felt like that simple truth was slipping away. The thousands of miles traveled had taken their toll—each state and national park a fleeting distraction from the shadows of our past. We'd slept in the backseat of the truck on countless nights, the stars above a constant reminder of freedom, and when we were lucky, we could splurge on a room like this. With Chloe, time stops. No rewinding, no looking back. My partner in time, and undoubtedly, my partner in crime.
But anonymity was starting to wear thin. The faces we’d met along the way blurred together in my memory, each stranger a fleeting glimpse of normalcy, a temporary reprieve from the chaos we had escaped from. No one knew what we’d done but, deep down, I’d always feared that time would eventually catch up to us. We couldn’t outrun the past forever.
And tonight, the weight of it all felt unbearable.
Chloe, her once-blue hair now a faded green, still a striking contrast against the faded beige wallpaper, stood by the window. Her arms crossed over her chest, and her eyes narrowed as she focused on the view outside. “Max,” Her voice came out sharp, but I could hear the worry simmering beneath. “Are you going to talk, or just stare at that damn notebook all night?”
I glance up, finally, swallowing the hard lump in my throat. The walls of the motel felt oppressive, suffocating. I wanted so desperately, in this moment, to rewind to a time where nights like this felt absolutely exhilarating. I shook the thought from my head, knowing that rewinding cannot, and will not be an option.
“I… don’t know what to say.” My voice came out barely a whisper, quaking with the raw emotion that bubbled just beneath the surface. My fingers tightened on the spine of the notebook, grounding me as if it could absorb my fears.
“Maybe we can just be honest for once,” Chloe said, her gaze intense, piercing through the silence. Frustration etched across her features, she continued, “It feels like we’re a couple of ghosts haunting this room. We can’t keep pretending anymore.”
My heart sank at her words, the truth stinging more than I expected. “I’m not pretending! I just…” My voice shook, raw with the weight of everything unsaid. “I don’t want to look back.”
“That’s the problem, Max!” Chloe threw her hands up, exasperation radiating from her. I could see the storm brewing behind her blue eyes, the words I feared most teetering on the edge of her lips. “What happened to us will always be a part of who we are. Can we please just fucking accept that?”
“You don’t understand!” The words burst from me in a near shout, my fists clenched tightly. “Every time I think about Arcadia Bay, it feels like I’m fucking drowning, Chloe. I don’t want to go back there! I can’t!”
Chloe’s expression shifted, the frustration giving way to concern. “Max, I get it. I really do. But shutting it out isn’t working. I don’t want to keep doing this.”
I pressed my palms against my eyes, fighting back the sob threatening to escape me.
“Facing it will set us free, Max, don’t you get that?” Chloe’s voice softened, and I felt the bed sink beside me. She placed a hand on my back, so gently, almost as if she thought I would break into pieces at the gesture. It was a testament to how much she’s grown over the years—a stark comparison to the fiery teenager I had once known.
I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d made the same progress or if my blissful ignorance had gotten us to where we are. The distance between us felt vast and uncertain—a chasm, a storm that I’d created once again.
I leaned into her touch, desperate to close that distance somehow. I knew that the Chloe next to me wasn’t the same Chloe I’d fallen in love with in highschool, who was fueled by anger and burdened by her loss. But some things remain the same— she was headstrong, stubborn, and my love still remained an unwavering devotion. I knew that if Chloe was ready to face something, she was going to do it.
My heart knocked at my chest, knowing that I couldn’t.
“What if… if it breaks us?” I finally lifted my gaze to hers, unable to stop the tears that flooded down my cheeks. Voicing the fear that has wracked my brain since the storm didn’t give me relief— it felt as if I was speaking it into existence and giving it the power to come to life.
Disappointment flashed across Chloe’s eyes for a moment, and it was devastating.
“You’re serious.” Chloe whispered, her brows furrowing as disbelief washed over her. “I don’t understand, Max, I…”
“You’ve been with me through it all,” I said, my voice trembling as I struggled to hold back the storm of emotions surging within me. “Rachel, the storm… the last four years, does it mean anything to you? At all?”
The air felt thick, suffocating with unspoken fears and regrets. I watched as she leaned back onto an elbow, a deep sigh escaping her lips. She fidgeted with the blue carabiner on her belt loop—the one she’d kept all these years. Her fingers smoothed over the side that I’d etched my name into with her pocket knife, the mark a reminder of the bond we’d once shared.
For a moment, the silence hung heavy between us, laden with memories both beautiful and painful. I found myself at a loss for words yet again, my throat tight with the weight of what I wanted to say. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it more times than I could count, the thoughts racing through my mind but refusing to take shape.
Chloe’s gaze was fixed on the carabiner, her expression shifting as she lost herself in thought. The flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, and it felt like a crack had formed in our foundation.
“Max…” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I can handle the idea that all of this—us—might not mean anything to you anymore.”
I couldn’t stop the tears; they spilled over my cheeks despite my attempts to wipe them away. The more I tried, the more they came pouring out. “It’s not that it doesn’t mean anything,” I choked out, my voice cracking. “It means everything, and I’m terrified it’s slipping through my fingers.”
Chloe shifted, her blue eyes searching mine for something—an answer, a promise, or perhaps an understanding that felt just out of reach. “Then why are you even saying these things?” she pressed gently. “Why are you acting like you want to push me away?”
“I’m not trying to push you away,” I pleaded, my heart racing. “I just… I don’t know how to face what we’ve been through. I’m scared, Chloe. I’m scared that facing our past means breaking everything we’ve built.”
“It feels like a cop-out at this point.” Chloe said blankly, the irritation simmering beneath her words. “If you’re not ready, if you don’t trust me… it feels like a slap in the face, Max.”
“But-” I begin to speak, but all that comes out is a whimper.
“No, Max. You’re giving up now, and it doesn’t make any sense to me.” Chloe stood up abruptly, her hands clenching at her sides as she began pacing the room. Her words were sharp, but I could see the tremor in her voice. “I don’t want to lose myself just because you’re stuck in the past.”
She stopped suddenly, her face a mix of frustration and sadness, before turning away to where her backpack lay in the corner. Her movements were quick, almost frantic, as she threw her belongings into the bag, shoving things inside with an urgency that made my stomach drop. It wasn’t much—barely a handful of items collected from the last few years of drifting from place to place together. But it was everything she had. Everything we had.
“Chloe,” I said, my voice wavering. I stepped forward, reaching to take the backpack from her hands. She pulled away, her eyes flashing as she put more distance between us. “Chloe!” My voice rose, desperation lacing every syllable.
“No,” Chloe replied, her tone cold but controlled, though her eyes betrayed her. “You’ve made it clear enough. I get the fucking idea, okay?” She slung her bag over her shoulder, then stuffed her phone and wallet into her pockets, her hands shaking slightly. She didn’t look at me as she walked to the door, her steps heavy, as if each one was a decision to leave.
“Chloe, please wait, give me a minute—” The words barely came out, strangled in my throat.
“I’ve given you long enough, Max.” Her voice was soft, almost gentle, but when she turned to face the door, her gaze dropped to the floor, but I swore I caught a glimpse the same sadness that lies within me.
And then, just like that, she was gone. The door closed with a quiet, final click that echoed through the silence, leaving a void I could feel in my bones. I stood there, staring at the spot where she’d been, my hand still reaching out as if I could pull her back, or rewind.
I sank to the floor, feeling the emptiness seep in. Chloe was always the one to push forward, to challenge me, to make me see the world differently. I wished I could go back, tell her I was ready to change, ready to let go for her.
“I love you, Chloe.”