
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13592826.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M
  Fandom:
      Life_Is_Strange_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Warren_Graham/Chloe_Price
  Character:
      Chloe_Price_(Life_Is_Strange), Warren_Graham, Maxine_"Max"_Caulfield,
      Joyce_Price, David_Madsen
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Unpopular_pairing, Unhealthy_Relationships, Slow_Burn,
      Recreational_Drug_Use, Emotional_Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological
      Abuse, Character_Bashing, Out_of_Character, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon
      Divergence, Rough_Sex, Coming_of_Age
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-06 Updated: 2018-03-13 Chapters: 4/? Words: 5720
****** Who Taught You How to Love? ******
by Disgruntled_Isaballe_(AprilwithaBlueGuitar)
Summary
     "You think being left on seen for a day or two is bad? God, you're
     pathetic. Come back to me when you've been disregarded for 5 years by
     someone you thought was your best friend."
     Warren and Chloe form an unlikely bond over Max's passivity and
     negligence and take out their anger on each other in unforeseen ways.
Notes
     This is just a random experiment of a story prompt I randomly thought
     up while reading some Warren x Max smut. I think I hate Max even more
     than Chloe looking back at the whole story lmao. Will be updating at
     random.
***** Words - Action = Shit and Self-Loathing *****
Warren Graham sat in the dark, occasionally leaning back in his computer chair,
as he checked his phone for what must be the 50th time for a reply that he knew
will never come. And if it did come, it’ll be nothing short of a brick wall
that he’d be scraping his nails at trying to get through.
 
The movie on is barely paid attention to like most things when Max Caulfield is
on his mind. He has a physics exam tomorrow but had stopped and started before
giving up studying altogether to read and send texts.
 
It’s moments like these that self-awareness pays a visit in its full ugly
honest glory.
 
She is just not digging you, man.
 
I mean, look at yourself. Look at the people she likes. People with conviction,
people with personality, people with power - you have nothing, man.
 
Mr. Jefferson. That punk girl… What was her name again? Chloe or something? 
They've got charisma.
 
She’s too sweet to say no… Which is insulting but you’re too stupid to realize
it by thinking its sweet in the first place.
 
More often than not these moments pass unheeded and when they return, they
return at the price of stolen dignity.
 
Warren shut off the projector and decided to go for a walk.
 
The weather was not too warm, not too cold - kind of like Max in a way. The
leaves hovered in the wind and were brushed aside kind of like him in a way.
The thought made that aforementioned self-awareness flare up and an outbreak of
shame flowed through his system.
 
It’s laughable to talk about hurt pride this late in the game. If he had any
pride to begin with, he would have stopped a long time ago.
 
The sun is sinking low and he knew that when the darkness hit in an hour or so,
that he’d be feeling the weight of his actions. His stomach groaned and he
grimaced. In thinking about her, texting her, jacking off in the toilet to one
of the artsy selfies she reluctantly gave him after a roundabout compliment
about it looking good on his wall, he forgot to feed himself. Thankfully the
selfie he plasters with a massive load of jizz after backing himself up out of
chivalry is a scanned and printed copy - he wouldn’t dare think about soiling
the original. Art too sacred to desecrate but a copy of a copy never hurt,
right?
 
The wind felt like her hand on his skin, silent and barely existing.
 
Warren spotted his car at the end of the parking lot. The diner seemed like a
good place to satiate his hunger. The necessary one. The basic human function
he forgot to do. He felt like an idiot for that. As he made his way across, his
eyes low, he heard a rattling roar of a truck pulling into the lot. He looked
up and he could make out a beanie hat and…blue hair? To the side of her, a
familiar shaggy head of brown hair and waifish face.
 
The boy’s stomach free-falls as recognition dawns on his features. He could
have sworn he heard her voice call out to him as he fumbled with his keys and
managed to unlock the car door. He could have imagined it; he didn’t look back
to confirm.
 
The diner was populated by a few familiars and some strangers. Thankfully, no
one from his school. He picked a seat at the very back, near the old jukebox.
Joyce, the waitress, looked exhausted but nonetheless smiled in his direction
and motioned that she’d be over in a second.
 
Warren smiled; here he felt warm and regarded. A little safe haven. He was
frugal and didn’t come here often but when he did, it soothed him. The food
wasn’t half bad either.       
 
He glanced at the menu and looked at the specials. Should he treat himself? A
little comfort food never hurt. It’s not like she’d look at him anyway to
notice a few pounds gained.
 
Joyce made her way over. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” she said, flipping
open her notebook. “Studies going well at the academy?”
 
“Better than ever!” Warren flashed her a dorky thumb-up but even a kid could
see how sad and desperate it looked than usual. “Being a whiz doesn’t come with
lollygagging.” He kicked himself mentally from how stupid that had come out.
 
Joyce softly frowned and looked back towards the kitchen then back at the teen.
“Consider this one on the house, okay? Just a little incentive, if you will, to
keep on keeping on.” She positioned her pen, ready to take his order. “What’ll
it be today?”
 
Warren smiled a bit more genuinely this time. Who sulks at free food? “Just the
special, please and thank you, ma’am.”
 
Joyce placed her hands on her hips. “How many times do I tell you not to call
me ma’am? I’m not old yet!”
 
He laughed and apologized for his slight; she forgave him with a wink and went
into the kitchen.
 
As he waited for his order, he sat back in the booth and rested his hands
behind his head, closing his eyes. For a brief instance, he felt something akin
to peace. But that wasn’t to last.
 
The jingle of the door and a thud of heavy footsteps made him open his eyes and
who he saw made his stomach churn. Chloe. The blue-haired bitch. Staring right
at him.
 
“Max was trying to call you. Something about a flash drive.” She sat down in
the booth, across from him, crossing her arms. “But you were too busy scurrying
away.”
 
Warren didn’t respond, only looked down at the table, unconsciously tapping his
finger on its cool surface.
 
The girl’s expression only soured. She clicked her teeth before producing the
small flash drive and sliding it across the table.
 
Warren looked at it and then pushed it back, making brief contact with Chloe’s
eyes.
 
“I don’t want it. Tell her she can keep it.”
 
“Tell her your damn self. I’m not your personal mail service.”
 
Warren took the flash drive and placed it under the table. He brought his foot
down on it, destroying his large cache of portable movies.
 
“Saved myself the trouble.”
 
Chloe looked down at the destroyed flash drive and then slowly up at him with a
scowl. She stood up at full height and glowered down at him.
 
“What the fuck is your issue? I came all this way and you shit all over my
time?? Let me guess…you’re pissy at Max because she won’t lay you?!”
 
Warren doesn’t even have to ask. They tell each other everything.He’s the
outsider and he’s intruding on something. And like all confrontations, he
just…walked away. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with this shit. Fuck the food.
He’d get something from a gas station on the way so long as he didn’t put up
with any more bullshit today.
 
She called after him but he doesn’t listen. She followed him.
 
Chloe’s hand roughly grabbed him by the shirt cuff and she yanked him around to
face her.
 
“What the hell are you doing, you bitch??” Warren never talked this way but
anger enabled him. Chloe hit him in the mouth with the back of her hand,
leaving him reeling.
 
“No wonder Max avoids you.” Chloe snapped. “You’re a creep and a pussy. Don’t
think I don’t see all those messages.”
 
Warren wiped the blood that started to leak from his lip, saying nothing.
 
“Max may be too nice to say it but I tell it like it is. So…”
 
Warren looked up at her with utter contempt. “I get it. Now will you let me be
on my way?”
 
Chloe approached him, only stopping with a few inches of personal space between
them. The next words made Warren do a double take.
 
“Do you want my help?”
 
Warren blinked out of confusion. Mostly to ward off the oncoming headache that
came out of sudden whiplash this conversation took a turn too.
 
“What?”
 
“Do. You. Want. My. Help?” She repeated slower so he could comprehend.
 
Warren didn’t know what the hell Chloe was getting at. Why would he accept this
abrasive, selfish bitch’s help? Especially after all the emasculating in the
restaurant.
 
“Fuck off.” He turned and walked away from her, going to his car. Today was a
shitshow. He needed to go home and sleep it off.
 
Chloe spoke again after he took a few steps. “I saw that black eye you got for
Max.”
 
Warren stopped and looked back at the bluenette. There was a silence.
 
“What do you mean by help?”
 
“Come with me. There’s a cool place I go to decompress.”
 
Chloe jerks her thumb to the truck. “Get your bitch ass into the passenger side
and we’ll talk.”
 
***** Sleeping Heart *****
Once he got his food to go and left a baffled Joyce in his wake, Warren sat
behind the wheel of his car, trailing Chloe’s pickup truck. Why he didn’t jet
off despite alarms ringing in his head? Well, curiosity follows danger. Chloe
was something that was light-years away on another planet that he couldn’t
comprehend if he tried.
 
Warren stared at the blue locks lit up by the fading sun through the pickup’s
back window. He wondered where this excursion would lead him.
 
When they finally stopped, Warren reluctantly turned off his car and exited it.
Chloe beckoned him into the maw of rust and scrap. He followed.
 
“How you like it?” Chloe gestured to the vast piles of forgotten rubbish
ravaged by weather and time.
 
“Could use a ladies’ touch.” Warren replied. He was careful making his way to
the clearing where she stood. Last thing he needed was an infection from
something unsanitary piercing his foot.
 
Chloe snorted. “Good thing I brought you here, right, bitchboy?” She fetched a
smoke from her flannel pocket and went to sit on a log while lighting up.
“Maybe you can freshen up the place while I kick back. For example….” Chloe
lazily directed her fingers to a cluster of empty liquor bottles. “You can
clean all those up and make this place look pretty.”
 
Warren shook his head and crossed his arms. “I’m afraid a heap of shit will
always be a heap of shit but…”
 
“But what?”
 
“It fits you. You know, the whole punk trash vibe.”
 
She stuck her middle finger up at him. “Blow it out your ass. This is Chloe’s
American Wasteland. My kingdom. You should play the guest role a little more
gratefully. Not even Max has seen it.”
 
Warren eyed her with intrigue and suspicion. “Why is that? Matter of fact is
there a reason you brought me to this place? This looks like a place to
“dispose of evidence” if you catch my drift.”
 
Chloe laughed and started choking on the smoke that was coming from her mouth.
Warren noticed the scent of weed in the air and stepped back, hoping that it
wouldn’t cling to his clothes.
 
“I won’t murder you, you pussy! Hahahaha!” She coughed and laid back on the
log, looking up at the darkening sky. She was silent for a while.
 
“What do you think about Max?”
 
Warren sat on the grass, a little ways off from her. “Don’t you already know?
You said that you already saw the texts I send her.”
 
“Yeah. It’s pathetic honestly.”
 
Just what he needed to hear.
 
“Thanks.”
 
“You didn’t answer my question.”
 
Warren closed his eyes. In the darkness, he conjured up her ghost. Her face,
her eyes and hair, her voice, her everything. He tried to pinpoint what it was
about her that entranced him.
 
A voice helped him along.
 
Because she was kind enough to give your sorry ass the time of day.
 
Warren opened his eyes and cast them to the dirt. “I..I don’t know. She’s…nice,
I guess.”
 
Chloe scoffed and swore under her breath. “You think being left on seen for a
day or two is bad? Come back to me when you've been disregarded for 5 years by
someone you thought was your best friend. Does that sound nice to you?”
 
Warren’s eyes shot up at Chloe from the hard edge in her voice; her fists
seemed to balled up.
 
“No, I didn’t mean-”
 
“Save it. Don’t need you feeling sorry for me too.”
 
…
 
“I needed her at that time too. But no…I guess life had other priorities for
her rather than her childhood friend.”
 
Chloe stood up and tossed the bud she was holding into one of the heaps. Warren
looked up at her. Darkness had swallowed the sky now. Lights came through the
forest and the blare of a train horn and accompanying trample of wheels against
track could be heard. Then it was gone.
 
Warren didn’t know what to think or say. She stood silently, her back towards
him, facing the trees. Maybe he wasn’t equipped for heavy moments like this.
She was practically a stranger.
 
He hesitated as he approached her. What would she do if he tried to console her
in his awkward but friendly way?
 
Trying to get in her pants too?
 
Fuck off.
 
Warren placed his shaking hand on her shoulder. Chloe stiffened up and recoiled
upon contact. She stared at him. He couldn’t make out what was behind her eyes,
they were impenetrable under her bangs and beanie.
 
He spoke first. “Sorry, I just thought…” He trailed off. It was best that he
go. An eerie feeling shook him and he just ran off back to his car. He didn’t
hear any footsteps behind him; he didn’t look back to confirm.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
The passing days gave no presence of Chloe. Max had texted him but he did not
respond. Those eyes haunted him from that day. Cold and unwilling to yield to
the vulnerability of intimacy.
 
You didn’t even get her name or number. You just ran. You limp dick fuckwhit.
 
It wasn’t the time. And I never thought about getting it in the first place.
 
Warren exited his final class of the day. It was a Friday; the students all
filed out, excited about weekend plans. He didn’t have any friends to really
hang with so as usual, he’d return to his room to change and decide whether to
sleep or just drive as far as he could. Maybe see a movie.
 
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Max file out of a classroom, holding
her trusty Polaroid camera. Warren lowered his head but she had already seen
him. ”Hey, Warren! Hey!” That tremble in her voice annoyed him. Her unsure
posture too. And then her wandering eyes.
 
Warren sighed and stopped. He wasn’t brought up to be rude; he would deal with
this.
 
“Yeah?”
 
“Did Chloe get your flash drive to you? She…or you didn’t really get back to
me.”
 
So Chloe is her name…
 
“I got it just fine. Thanks.” Why you couldn’t do it yourself when I asked
before?
 
“Good. I mean, you never really know with her, she’s a real wild card.”
 
“She isyour friend. I suppose you’d know her best.” He didn’t know why but what
Max said made him angry. He turned to go.
 
“Later. I got somewhere to be…”
 
He walked out the two double doors and he could have sworn he heard the click
of a camera.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
He found himself at the junkyard instead of his usual haunts. He didn’t recall
the drive that lead him there. As he exited his car, he could heard the loud
echo of a gunshot and the shattering of glass. Against his gut, he ran into the
junkyard.
 
The blue-haired punk was aiming a revolver at bottles on a ledge that she had
set up. Another shot rang out and another glass shattered. She lifted a bottle
to her lips unsteadily and drank. The amber liquid ran down her chin and onto
her shirt. Then she threw it up, stepped back, aimed and fired. Warren
instinctively ducked when shards of glass splintered down upon him and Chloe
merely raised her arm to shield herself.
 
Her eyes finally fixed upon the crouching boy and she lowered the gun. “Oh…it’s
you.” She said as he rose from the ground. She put the safety on and approached
him, a slight unevenness in her gait.
 
“What the hell were you… How’d you get a gun? Isn’t it dangerous to be shooting
that and drinking?!”
 
“What do you care? Better question, why’d the fuck did you run last time?”
 
Warren froze, remembering those eyes that stared through him in the near
darkness.
 
“I thought I pissed you off of something by touching you!”
 
Chloe raised her eyebrow and turned to return to the log where more bottles lay
in the grass. She popped the cap off of one and put it to her lips. A belch
came from her throat and then a reply.
 
“I wasn’t angry… Just surprised.”
 
“Surprised?”
 
“Surprised that you’d have the balls to even try it.”
 
Warren ignored the insult underlining her response.
 
“Are you okay?”
 
Chloe put the drink down. “No. As you can see.” She shot a glance at the
bottles around her feet.
 
“What were you going to help me with?”
 
Chloe’s icy cerulean eyes looked up at him but she said nothing.
 
“You look like you need more help than me.” He regretted the moment that came
out of his mouth.
 
Chloe’s eyes narrowing and she almost seemed to rare up like a snake poised to
strike.
 
“I-I talked to Max and she said-”
 
“I don’t like being talked about behind my back.”
 
“She was only asking if you got my flash drive to me.”
 
“What else did she say?”
 
“She just was wondering because you didn’t get back to her! She said you were a
bit of a wild card so-”
 
Chloe’s eyes flared. “A wild card?? A fucking wild card? I can be consistent
and stable if she was too!”
 
Warren stood up and put up his hand slowly. The gun was out.
 
“Chloe…p-put down the gun.” His eyes were drawn to it. The steel glinted in the
light and his gut was clenching, knowing that something was going to go down.
 
He took a step forward.
 
“She says I’m a wild card! I’ll show her a fucking wild card!” Chloe put the
gun to her temple. “Russian Roulette. Let’s fucking do it.”
 
Warren stopped in his tracks. What kind of person did he get involved with?
 
She spun the barrel with her thumb. “Whatever happens, I guess it was meant to
fucking be. I should’ve bit the bullet a long time ago anyway.”
“Chloe, you’re overreacting, man! Just put it down!” Chloe’s finger went
towards the trigger and he lunged. The gun flew out of her hand and fired. It
hit something to the wayside and the two hit the ground. Chloe’s dyed blue hair
was spread all around her head like a halo as she looked up into the sky, her
chest rising and falling rapidly.
 
Warren shut his eyes as he lay next to her. His ears were ringing and he too
was breathing as if he was running a marathon. He thought he could hear,
through the static and chimes, a sniffle. He didn’t bother to look over at the
girl next to him. He just reached over, took her hand in his and let her cry.
 
You fucking idiot.
 
Those words echoed in head as he drove her back to Blackwell with him. He
didn’t bother retrieving the gun.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
“Where are we going?”
 
“Back to my Blackwell. We’re going to talk to Max.”
 
“I don’t want to see her. I’m tired, man. Don’t chuck me into a shitstorm.”
 
Warren glanced sideways at her and then looked ahead with a nod. “Then I will.
You can rest in my dorm.”
 
“You better not try anything. I’ll cut your ballssss off….” Chloe fell asleep,
the weight of the day winning against her eyelids and consciousness.
 
Her hand was still in his and he could feel it tighten.
***** Mixed Messages and Alcohol *****
Are  you going to knock or not? 
Warren's fist lingered inches from the door. He couldn't hear anything but the
sound of his own breathing and heartbeat. No sign of life presented itself
behind the door he had only pictured himself being coyly led through.
"Warren, you're really sweet."
"Hey, Warren, sorry I haven't had the time."
"I wouldn't push your luck, Warren. I'm not in the mood today.'
"Sorry, Warren, I-"
"Warren-"
Seen at 10:50 Am
Seen at 10: 51 Am
Seen at 11: 00 Am
Seen at 11: 05 Am
Seen at 11: 23 Am
Seen at 11: 47 Am 
Seen at 12: 00 Am 
"Oh, Warren..."
"Oh, fuck, Warren!"
"Warren...?" 
The boy blinked twice and looked to his right. There she was, standing there,
looking apprehensive, her eyes wandering around like an airplane with its
engines failing and trying to maintain altitude. 
"Max." It sounded like something was stuck in his throat. Sweat had started to
bead on his face.
"Warren...if you needed to talk to me, you could have texted. Coming to my
room...seems a bit...y'know..." 
She looked down and gasped, then her eyes shot up to throw her most sturdiest
glare at him. 
"Are you...Were you trying to get off to my door?"
Warren didn't know what she was talking about. Then he felt it. And the fire
seemed to course through every inch of his face. He tried to explain himself
but all he could do is stammer. 
She pushed him out of the way and checked her door. It was still locked. 
"Max, we need to-"
"No. This...this is disgusting. You are disgusting. I can see where your mind
is and god, I think I'm going to vomit." Max had opened the door and was
retreating into her room. "Don't....text me anymore. Please." She shut the door
softly. It was silent in the hallway. 
It's not like you answer them anyway. But this isn't about you, this is about
your friend who nearly shot herself in front of me.
"Hey, Max!"
"Mad Maxxxx!"
"Let's go ape, Max, come on!" 
"What's up, Max?" 
"Sensitive usually means "I won't be having sex with you".
He thought about kicking in the door but he instead left. Why do people connect
with others? Is it by some biological obligation or is it deeper than that?
Reaching out and reaching out and all you grasp is a fleeting notion of some
flimsy contract between you and another person and you invest and invest and
invest until you gamble and strike gold or lose it all in some illogical
catastrophe over some differences that don't really matter in the long run.
Nine times out of ten people would throw you to the wind for someone else.
Someone better. If you had to choose to save the one you love and humanity,
what's the obvious choice you would make? 
Chloe was awake when he came back. Somehow that was comforting to him because
he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts. Her eyes were fixed on the framed
selfie on the wall. 
"I'm going to take that down. Don't get on my case about it." Warren said,
exasperated. He sat on the floor and leaned his back against the bed. She was
sitting up in bed. 

"I wasn't." The punk said. "It's bullshit, you know?" 
"What's bullshit?" 
She gestured to the picture as she laid back down. "Pictures being the window
to the soul or whatever. I've been looking at it since you left me here. I
couldn't see a damn thing. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing."
He said nothing. What could he say to that? 
Chloe looked in his direction at the back of his head. "Did you see her?" 
Warren nodded. 
"What did she say?"
"Nothing. She just told me to leave." 
"Max isn't forward like that. What went down?" 
Warren let out a long exhale through his nose and shut his eyes. "I froze. She
wasn't even in the dorm. She was just coming back and she saw that I had a
boner in front of her door. I didn't even know I did. So, she got angry. Told
me to never talk to her again." 
Chloe burst out laughing. The sound broke the melancholy that saturated the
room. "Christ, man, you're a fucking trip. Even then, you're still thinking
with the small head!" She shook her head. "How anticlimactic...or knowing you,
you probably had yours several times already, hahahha." 
"I'm glad my embarrassment is amusing to you. I'm lucky she's not to type to
dish dirty laundry." Warren got up and stretched. The tension in his body
seemed to dissipate. Well, except his thoughts and the way Max looked at him
last. 
Maybe a sensitive woman kicking his ass would be a good thing.
"Anyway, what's your deal? Are you feeling better?" 
Chloe sighed. "I guess. If you're planning on kicking me out-"
"No!" Warren noticed how strongly that had come out. How needy. How desperate. 
Chloe turned her head towards him with her eyebrows raised. 
Warren cleared his throat. Alleviate the situation. Alleviate. Alleviate. "W-
What I meant is mi casa es su casa...Make yourself comfortable. You don't have
to leave." 
"Sit on the bed, dude. You're making me fucking nervous."
Warren obliged and sat down. 
Chloe was quiet for a while. Her expression shifted from one emotion to another
to another to another. "I don't really know how to say this. I'm not really
used to this kind of shit. But thanks. You saved my ass when you knocked me to
the ground. A moment more and the rusted shit in the junkyard would've gotten a
free paint job. Maybe I'm the one who needs help." Chloe leaned back against
the wall.
"I don't even know what the fuck I meant when I first said that." 
Chloe laughed nervously and shut her eyes. "I'm a fucking mess. Staying at some
dork's dorm room to avoid my step-dick and getting blackout drunk in a rusty
fucking junkyard."
"I don't even know you but here I am, in your room, telling you a whole bunch
of personal shit that you probably didn't ask for."

"What a world, huh?" 
Chloe felt a hand on her shoulder and quickly opened her eyes to his rapidly
approaching and his lips to hers. Her eyes widened. Her arms trembled. And she
let it happen for a few guilty seconds before pushing him away.
She put her fingers to her lips and looked up at him incredulously.   "Wh-What
the... Dude...?" She suddenly looked scared. She got up fast and she struggled
with the doorknob before wrenching the door open. She shot a look at him and
then ran. 

And in the silence, he felt nothing. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. 
In the absence of feelings, the taste of cigarettes, cheap beer, and
blueberries lingered. 
Warren got up, took down the framed selfie of Max, went into the bathroom, and
shut the door. 
***** Didn't It Rain? *****
Chapter Summary
     "if the blues are your hunter
     then you will come face to face
     with that darkness and desolation
     and the endless (x7) depression
     but you are not helpless
     and you are not helpless
     try to beat it
     try to beat it
     and live through space's loneliness."
     - Songs: Ohia, "Blue Chicago Moon"
She thought that she would need something stronger than the cheap beer that her
fake ID netted tonight. Something above that and just under death... Maybe
death would be a better drink to swallow. The phone still clutched in her
lifeless hands. That call brought her back to her youth. For a few minutes, she
was that broken little girl again.
And she felt alone. The type of loneliness that we fight on this sole life-
rearing rock, drifting through nothing but black.
She took her coat, her parent and extra straggler still working their long
shifts, and left into the night. 
The rain...well, more like a faint drizzle since there wasn't a god willing to
weep for her, felt nice cascading down her face. Not too thick so as to cover
her intermittent tears but just enough to feel like a comforting hand. 
She walked. Driving wouldn't let her feel the depth and gravity of her ache.
The lights of Arcadia Bay were few and far between at this time of night.
Sometimes only the dim crackling embers of her lighter illuminated her face as
she struggled to light a cigarette but to no avail. She chucked it into a storm
drain.
She saw the diner with its dying "Two Whales" neon flickering and thought about
going in. But she didn't want her mother asking questions. Wearing her heart on
her sleeve was a curse more than it ever was a blessing. So, she did something
else than she hasn't done in a long time. She thought of her mother, how hard
she must be working in there night after night to make up for the lack of
support left by the void from the crash, and she shakily drew her phone from
her pocket.

Chloe (11: 37 PM): Hey
Mom (11; 45 PM): Hey, Chloe, I'm coming home soon, are you okay?
She lied.
Chloe: (11: 47 PM): I'm not home
Chloe: (11: 47 PM): Thank you, Mom
Mom: (11: 50 PM): For what? Are you really okay, Chloe? Is there something you
need to talk about?
She lied again. 

Chloe: (11: 52 PM): For everything 
She ignored the frantic vibrating from texts and calls from her mother and
stepfather as well. She just put on her earphones and let the swirling guitars
and voice narrate her fragmented thoughts. 
The whole place is dark
 Every light on this side of the town
 Suddenly it all went down
 Now we'll all be brothers of
 The fossil fire of the sun
 Now we will all be sisters of
 The fossil blood of the moon
The creeping coast of lone cars ever slightly leaking into the pauses. The
salty sweep of the Pacific sea breeze made her close her eyes, stop, and
breathe in. Each step forward made her feet ache and she didn't where was
headed. It just felt right. 

For the first time in her life, she trusted whatever was guiding her instead of
rebelling against it. It couldn't be worse than anything she lead herself
into. 

The real truth about it is
No one gets it right
The real truth about it is
We're all supposed to try

There ain't no end to the sands I been trying to cross
The real truth about it is
My kind of life's no better off
If it's got the map, or if it's lost
A building loomed in the distance, glowing larger and more imposing as she got
nearer and nearer. She finally saw fully, she stopped and blankly stared up at
it. She could curse and blame it for taking away what she loved. Past tense
loved. The ache turned to betrayal and anger. It was irrational to blame a
building. No...it was someone who probably was sound asleep within its gilded
walls. She didn't think her name nor speak it. If there was closure, it would
have to be at the source. 
If there was closure, it would mean abso-fucking-lutely nothing, she'd never
forgive her. 
The real truth about it is
There ain't no end to the desert I'll cross
I've really known it all along
Mama, here comes midnight with the dead moon in its jaws
Must be the big star about to fall


Through the parking lot, winding walkways, and smaller auxiliary buildings, she
shut off her song when she finally reached the door she had been lead to. She
knocked without hesitation.
===============================================================================
Warren jerked up from his computer chair and wiped the accumulated spit from
his mouth and cheek. The past week had been hell on him. Going through the
motions and throwing himself into either school or mindless entertainment
without much regard for sleep. Twin spectres haunted his dreams, lingering in
and out like will o' the wisps.

Thankfully, this night was absent of dreams and thoughts. It was as if he was
wrapped in a calm stillness like he was in the eye of a hurricane. Then came,
the knock. Not quiet, not loud, not forceful or desperate, a simple two knocks
on wood. It baffled him that anyone would knock on his door at this time of
night or any other time. He cautiously approached the door and opened it.

He didn't expect her here again. The scent of rain, cigarettes, cheap beer and
with it, Chloe Price.

He struggled to process words for a second; he was probably still dreaming.

"Chloe...? Didn't it rain? Jesus, you're soaked to the bone, did you walk here-
"

She didn't respond. As he reached out to tap her shoulder, she moved forward
and kissed him with such force that the two of them felt to the floor. She
never done this before. Nor had he.

Still, neither complained.

"Chloe, wait-" Warren had only a few seconds of air to take in before she
kissed him again and when they broke, both gasping, eyes glazed, Chloe clasped
her hand to his mouth as when he tried to make sense of what was going on she
struggled to get her wet, cold clothes off.

"I don't even have condoms!"  

"Don't care. Fuck now, worry later. Now stop squirming and stop talking." She
threw her shirt somewhere and kicked her pants and underwear to the side.
Warren could only take in the sight before him with widened eyes. 

"You're...um...really nice-looking, you know? Just p-putting it out there." 

Chloe rolled her eyes, feeling the heat well up in her face. "The rule about
shutting up? That begins now."
He complied. 
 
===============================================================================
Chloe couldn't speak. She let her head fall back as she tried to get words out,
anything. She felt her body go slack like a marionette with its strings cut. It
happened in a blur. Both of them were beyond exhausted; Chloe's sheer
aggression and drive sucked away Warren's energy almost instantaneously. His
and her fluids flowed out onto the carpet; neither cared at the moment. As she
slowly drifted off, still on top of him, her head against his heaving chest,
she could have sworn he said, "So much for being quiet..." 
Chloe didn't have the energy to snap back or even blush. A mental "shut-up"
would have to do. 
 
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