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Chloe lights up a cigarette, making sure to control the smoke she exhales out of her lungs. She knows Max doesn't like it when she smokes, even when she never verbalises it - the cute kid. She's been cutting back, lately only smoke four times a week, and honestly, it feels kind of nice.
She watches the Blackwell nerds walk around the school, chatting and flirting and doing whatever it is students these days do, trying to spot a familiar freckled-girl with cute short fluffy brown hair.
She taps her boot against the grass, shifts her weight, pulls off and puts back her beanie on her head in a vain attempt to make herself look good in front of the girl she's secretly crushing on.
Chloe is about to take another inhale when she hears an excited "Chloe!" from in front of her.
She smiles, throws away her cigarettes on the concrete ground behind her, making sure to step on the flicker of flame. Max is all about being eco-friendly, after all. She walks in a leisure pace, keeping her cool even when all she wants is to run into Max and tackles the cute kid into a hug.
Max, however, never strives to look cool, and unashamedly jogs to Chloe, a wide grin in place.
Chloe finds it heartwarming, how Max is always excited to see her even though they meet each other, like, every day. It makes her feel less shitty about herself. It's something she's always grateful for and never takes for granted, even if it's a small quirk Max herself probably doesn't notice.
Max is already a few feet from her, eager to cross the distance between them. That's when Chloe spots it.
A football, launched at insane speed. Heading right at Max's direction.
Shit.
Chloe moves like a lighting. She grabs Max by the shoulders and drags her far off the side, away from the impending danger.
However, with how much focus she puts on Max, Chloe fails to focus on her own safety, and the result is a heavy fucking impact crashing onto her shoulder, tipping her off to the point where her back collides with the concrete ground, right next to the abandoned cigarette.
In Max's eyes, the transition from Point A to Point B is such a blur that it's basically nonexistent.
One moment, Chloe is standing there, ready to pick her up with her retro-truck, and the next, Max is unbalanced from how forcefully Chloe shoves her to the side, and Chloe's no longer standing, a football ball rolling to the side.
Oh. Chloe got hit by a football.
… CHLOE GOT HIT BY A FOOTBALL!
"Shit! Chloe!" She drops down to her knees, grabs the beanie that has fallen off of her head, knowing how much Chloe treasures it, and… doesn't know what the hell she should do in this situation.
"U-umm, can you hear me, Chloe?"
Chloe doesn't seem to, at first, moaning and clutching her forehead, small trails of smoke still coming out of her mouth. Her bleary eyes look at Max's direction and narrow, still unseeing.
"Ugh… Max…? Wha…?"
"C'mon. We gotta get you to the infirmary, or something. Can you, umm, can you stand up?"
It takes a moment for Chloe to register the question. She nods, winces because it hurts to move her head, and pushes herself off as strongly as she can, resulting in her losing her balance. She would've hit her head on the concrete again if Max hadn't come to her rescue, grabbing her shoulders with a "whoa there, careful". My hero.
Max, determined, whispers, "C'mon, on three," as she traces circles on Chloe's collarbone, hoping the gesture will soothe her. Chloe gives a hum of confirmation, eyes closed and body rocking back and forth in dizziness. "One… Two…"
Chloe whimpers, leaning into Max for support before she even fully stands up. Shit. Who knew getting hit in the head hurt this much? Whoever threw that ball must be hella strong… aaand also a dick for not giving them any warning and almost hurting Max.
Max grunts, letting Chloe use her as a crutch, hooking one arm around her waist and the other gripping on Chloe's own arm. "C'mon, Chlo, stay with me, yeah?"
Chloe keeps swaying and tethering to the side, unable to grasp her sense of balance. Strings of incoherent curses and whimpers and moans of pain slips from her mouth without her own awareness.
Chloe's head is full of cotton and jelly and she keeps drifting in and out of consciousness. She doesn't understand what the fuck is going on, but she understands that Max is with her and she won't let anything happen to her, so she follows Max's instruction and walks. (To where? She neither knows nor cares.)
Max feels hot anger boiling over her stomach and onto her chest, threatening to spill out in the form of glares and barks of accusation at the people who watch them struggle and not offer help. Assholes.
But Chloe needs her, so Max settles with giving each and every one of them silent glares.
"... Max…"
"Don't pass out on me, Chlo," she says through uneven breathy pants and gritted teeth.
"You… smell nice."
… Y-U-P, Chloe needs medical attention, stat!
Max is filled with the dilemma of having to open the infirmary door and keeping Chloe from face-planting her face on the ceramic-tiled floor, but that dilemma is solved by the worried nurse opening the door, inviting them in, and helping Max help Chloe settle in on the bed.
Bless this nurse.
The nurse coaxes Chloe with sitting up straight, and Max drapes an arm across her back to help her. "C'mon, dude, focus," she urges, only partly relieved when Chloe mutters a faint "sure, why not?"
The nurse shines a light on Chloe's eyes, and Max can't help but smile at Chloe's bewildered "the fuck?"
That smile fades when the nurse holds up two fingers and Chloe declares that she sees sixty-nine fingers.
"Be cereal, for a moment, Chlo." It's getting hard to restrain her worry on its loose leash, not that she's been actively doing so in the first place.
"Fine…" Dazed blue eyes squint. "... three?"
Shit.
The nurse hums and stands there, and, with each second passing, Max's worry triples. She then walks to the mini fridge, pulls out a small ice pack from it, and walks back to Chloe, urging the semi-conscious girl to press it on her head and keep pressing it.
"Your girl here has a concussion," the nurse says nonchalantly after too many seconds of frustrated silence. "A quick nap should fix her up," she says, like it's obvious, which, it maybe is for a nurse. "Yeah, I'm leaving you two gal-pals alone. I need my break."
Max, visibly fuming, opens and closes her mouth, but before any word can come out, the nurse is already gone.
… Curse this nurse.
She gets welled up in her ocean of thoughts, but is pulled away by a warm hand on her shoulder.
"Max."
At that weak tone, Max turns and faces Chloe, noticing that she's trying to tug on her jacket. Lidded blue eyes look up, no trace of humor evident in them as she says, "Help me with this."
Max doesn't know whether she's lucky or not and squeaks a meek "yes", arms stiff as she pried Chloe's arms away from tugging the jacket off, doing it herself with little ease - courtesy of Chloe's squirming.
Max tries not to touch any of Chloe's skin, trying to be respectful and trying not to give her hormones any ideas. She succeeds. Mostly. Probably.
Max tries not to admire Chloe's skin which she does not touch, and (un)fortunately, fails. But it's not her fault! Not completely anyway! Chloe's skin has always been so smooth and white and perfect, unlike hers which is just, ugh, full of weird dots people find cute.
Once the deed is done, Chloe flops back to the bed, eyes closed, breathing heavy, arms sprawled out like she's back in her room, with no concussion.
Max holds the jacket awkwardly. She toys with the hem of the fabric, admiring how solid the leather feels against her skin. Man. It even smells like Chloe.
The door bursts open, revealing a wide-eyed Rachel Amber, saying, "I came as soon as I heard!", eyes widening even more, taking in the sight of Max, clearly inhaling Chloe's jacket. "Do I even want to know?" She says, her surprise turning into amusement as she crosses her arms, knowing exactly what Max is doing, and knowing why she's doing what she's doing.
Max quickly pulls the jacket down, throwing it onto who knows where as though she hadn't been unashamedly sniffing her friend's jacket like a weird old pervert.
"Nope," she says, cursing herself when her voice sounds like those little squirrel fellows from Alvin and The Chipmunks.
Rachel's smile widens, toothy and charming and full of unhidden malice.
"This is so going to be a blackmail material."
Max slumps, brows flattened, face deadpanned. "Of course it is."
"Is she okay?" Rachel gestures to Chloe, who looks like she's had too much to drink.
"She got hit in the head." Max shrugs. "Dunno who did it."
"I do." Max gives her a questioning look. "Trevor." Max slowly nods, not expecting Rachel to say, "Don't worry, I dealt with him," with a rather menacing tone.
Max shifts uncomfortably, not used to violence or blackmail or confrontation in general, unlike Rachel and Chloe. She gives a glance at Chloe, and realises that it's just Rachel's way to show that she cares. "Thanks."
Rachel shrugs, giving Max a genuine smile, saying, "Anything for my favorite personal driver," which makes Max chuckle and relieves some of her tension.
They chill out in their plastic seats, pretending it's comfortable, playing with their phone and enjoying the silence they usually don't have because of Chloe.
Max finds Chloe's jacket sprawled on the floor, picks it up, and bites her lip, looking back and forth between the jacket and its owner.
Rachel hides her smile as she sees Max gently covering Chloe with her jacket with the carefulness she usually preserves when she's taking a picture. Max is cute. Chloe is a bastard. Together, the two are cute bastards. This is adorable. Totally, utterly adorable. She ships them, full-on, 100%, no doubt about it.
Oh. And Chloe's waking up. Slowly, kind of amusingly - with her squinting and trying to regain her sense of balance - but surely.
"Hey, Chloe…" whispers Max with such softness and delicacy as Rachel says a plain, "'Sup, dropout?" causing Max to give her the 'behave' look suburban mothers typically wear.
Chloe blinks, using her elbows to push herself up, ignoring someone's warnings to go back to sleep.
She sighs in relief when she finds that that someone is Max.
"Max…" Her eyes dart to the side and they narrow dangerously. "Who the fuck is this bitch?"
Rachel scowls. "Fuck you."
"No thanks," Chloe rolls her eyes and winces from the motion, causing Rachel to snicker and point at her, causing Max to scowl at both of them because, seriously, are they really nineteen years old?
"Girls, cool it," says Max, standing in-between them, putting an arm on Chloe's shoulder. "Rachel, Chloe has a concussion, so be gentle." She turns to Chloe, who's holding up her jacket in confusion. "Chloe, this is Rachel. She's literally your best friend."
Chloe lowers the jacket and looks up at Max with a wounded look; bottom lip trembling, eyebrows shot up, eyes glimmering.
"I thought you were my best friend."
Oh, shit, Rachel and Max both think, backpedalling everything. A sad Chloe is not something they want on their plates, ever.
"N-no, Chloe, it's-"
"Oh! That's right!" Chloe says, brightening up as she snaps her back into a straight sitting position. She snaps her fingers and says, "You're not my best friend! You're my girlfriend!"
A beat passes.
And another.
And another.
And Rachel's doubled over, wheezing and laughing like there's no tomorrow, not even attempting to be subtle or quiet about it.
Max's mind is blank, and her cheeks are so hot they're practically two little suns attached to her face, and she's looking at Chloe, wanting to tear her eyes off of her but unable to, torn between wanting to scream, faint, or kiss the concussed idiot.
Chloe, meanwhile, blinks, and realises how foolish she was. "Oh, right, you're not my girlfriend yet, but you will be!" She pauses. "At least I hope so."
At this point, Max has lost any skills of communication, and it's up to Rachel to ask, "A-and why is that?", still holding her stomach as though it can combust at any second. This, right here, is why she's alive and why she loves living. Every moment of Rachel Amber's life has been building up to this very second, and she almost feels undeserving of it - as though she isn't worthy enough. This is comedy gold. Nay, not just gold. This is comedy diamond. And she's loving every second of it.
"Because I wanted to ask her out today," Chloe says with a shrug, like it's obvious. "Planned to take her to the lighthouse, let her take a bunch of cool nature shots, and then ask her out when the sun sets."
Another beat passes.
And more.
Lots and lots more.
And Max can't stand on her own anymore, wobbling and tethering to the side, pale and flushing at once.
Luckily, Rachel is there to help her balance herself, even if she herself is weak on the knees.
"Holy fuckballs, Chlo," she mutters, looking back and forth between a semi-awake Chloe and an equally semi-awake Max. "Didn't know you're a romantic."
Chloe looks at her, raising an eyebrow, looking more awake than she really is. "Nah, I'm not, but Max is, though. Wanted to make it special for her, you know." Her eyes widen. "Wait a minute, what time is it?"
Rachel frowns, curious about the sudden change of subject, answering, "It's, um, seven, I think."
Chloe jolts. "Shit! I'm late already." She throws her feet to the ground, grunting as she stands up, one hand on the edge of the bed to steady herself, the other on her head to subside the pain.
Max, who's shut down due to the shock and the inability to handle that shock, snaps back to the real world upon seeing Chloe, who's still badly hurt, trying to stand up.
"No, no, no, no," she says, fleeing from Rachel's grasp to hold both of Chloe's shoulders, bending her knee to get eye-level with her. "You can't go anywhere yet. You're still injured."
"But we're late." Chloe's distress is genuine. "It's got to be on the golden hour."
Max opens and closes her mouth. No words come out. All that is in her mind are screaming, and screeching, and the need to yeet herself through the window and into the outside world.
Rachel, being Rachel, wolf-whistles. "Damn, Caulfield. You got yourself a nice catch here." She has half a mind to leave the two adorkable idiots alone, give them some privacy, but the Gossip Girl in her needs to see this.
"You… remember the golden hour?"
Chloe tilts her head to the side, wondering why Max looks pale and hopeful. She grabs Max's hand, the one glued to her wrist, and gives it a soft squeeze. "Well, of course I do. I know how much you love it."
Max would babble on and on about how the golden hour was legendary not only for photographers, but painters as well, and how even the common folk would watch it, and how beautiful it is, and Chloe would have to bite her lip to resist saying "not as beautiful as you" every time.
Rachel has her hand on her mouth, welling up happy tears. She feels like a soccer mom watching her innocent baby kid turn into a wonderful human being. She's grown so much from when I first saw her…
"So, yeah," Chloe says, nodding to herself, a determined frown set in place. "If we leave now we might be able to catch it." Chloe, again, tries to stand up, but Max's grip on her is firm. "C'mon, Max. Lemme go."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because you're concussed!" -shouts Max as Rachel deadpans- "Duh, because she's worried about you, idiot."
"But how am I supposed to ask you out?"
At that, Max's human skills shut down due to a mix of embarrassment, giddiness, and surprise.
Rachel is grinning like the proud mom that she is and puts her hands on her hips, shaking her head. "You can do it after you're not concussed."
"... I'm concussed?"
Rachel snorts. "Yup."
Chloe blinks owlishly and, after a few seconds, mutters, "Huh, that explains the hella nasty headache."
Rachel snorts again, breaking into a chuckle. "It sure does. Now," she claps, "get some sleep already."
"Wait."
Surprisingly, it's not Chloe who said that, but Max, who's shifting her weight from one foot to the other, face red as a tomato, refusing to look at the two other occupants in the room.
Chloe's mind might be a little - okay, a lot - fuzzy, but she still knows when Max is worrying about something. "What is it?"
"I… um… How are you going to ask me out? When we're at the lighthouse, I mean."
Chloe blinks, and smiles the most un-punk, un-reckless, un-Chloe smile ever, and wowzers, it's such a beautiful smile.
"Well, it'll start off, like, casual, so you won't know that I'm asking you out. I'll compliment you and you'll go all 'nah, it's nothing', even though it so fucking isn't."
The veracity and passion in Chloe's denial widens Rachel's smile and brightens Max's blush.
"And then I'll prove it wrong! Like how you won the Everyday Heroes contest. How even Bitchtoria admits that you're a great artist. And then," Chloe adopts her usual 'up to something' grin, looking at Rachel with waggling eyebrows. "I'll start to talk more about how you're amazing and less about how your pictures are amazing."
"Nice." Rachel approves.
"And you're gonna deny it, I know you will," says Chloe as she points an accusing finger to Max. Max smiles and shrugs, not denying it. "So I'm gonna keep on insisting until you take the damn compliment. It'll be hard, since you're stubborn as a fucking rock, but hey, I'm stubborn as a fucking rock too."
"You hella are," says Rachel.
"So, yeah, I'll make sure you take your compliment, realise how amazing you are and that's when I ask you out." Chloe looks dead serious. "And I'm not just gonna ask you out, no, no. I know Max is easily afraid about this kind of thing, so, I'm gonna make sure to tell you that whatever she chooses, I'll be okay with it."
"But will you, though?" asks Max with teary eyes.
Chloe looks at her, and Max shudders at how calm she is, how gentle her smile is. "Of course I will. I love you, Max. I'll respect your decision, no matter what. If you don't want us to be more than friends, then that's okay, I won't push anymore. But if you will, then I'll make sure it's going to be hella fun for you - for us."
A beat passes.
And another.
And another.
"Welp," Chloe says, lying back down, making herself comfortable. "Imma pass out now."
And she does, leaving Max and Rachel standing there, unable to breathe and process anything.