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Chloe had faced down death's cold, indifferent eyes so many times that she didn't think there was much in this world that could really scare her anymore.
Until Max got sick. Like, really fucking sick.
Chloe honestly couldn't remember a time Max had anything more severe than a slight cough and runny nose. In fact, one of her earliest memories consisted of being around a bunch of confused grown ups after Max had spent the whole week Chloe had chicken pox at the Price house, and left seeming more healthy and chipper than she had on arrival.
Of course, Chloe hadn't actually known Max for five years of their lives. Maybe she had gotten sick loads of times then. Hell, maybe she even caught a flu or something that was way worse than whatever she was dealing with now. Unfortunately, that didn't exactly make not knowing what this was any less terrifying to Chloe. One minute, Max was fine— well, as fine as you can be while sitting in silence after escaping the rubble of your childhood town. But she was healthy, coherent; then, by the time Chloe filled the tank up at the next truck stop, she could barely keep her eyes open and was hot to the touch. That scared Chloe more than anything they had faced that week.
So, there sat Chloe at 3am. Ass numb on the dirty carpet of some motel in some town she couldn't even remember the name of at the moment, sponging the pale, perspiring forehead of her whole world with a towel and cold sink water in a mug she wasn't sure actually belonged to the motel. Every time she got up to get fresh water, she mentally braced herself for the possibility of coming back to Max not breathing, even if she knew that was kind of stupid. Still, it was kind of what you did when you were forced to be alone with your own thoughts— picture the worst possible scenario. Back when her dad died, Chloe had quickly become accustom to spending long nights alone with her thoughts, staring in the darkness, when all she wanted to do was talk to Max. It was kind of funny, in a fucked up way. Max never felt this far away when she was six hours away in Seattle, yet she may as well had been on a completely different planet in the state she was in.
As Chloe ran the towel along Max's cheek, admiring the way the moonlight hit her skin in a way that made the water look like it was glistening, all she could think about was how the photographer would probably think that would make for an amazing shot, but somehow also how much she missed her mom, but not in the way she thought she would by now. Even when Chloe was at her most difficult to deal with, Joyce always knew exactly what to do when she was sick. Joyce would know what to do, or at least have a better idea than wrapping the frail girl in a thousand blankets and towels, and holding her hair back when Max started throwing up the three measly Tylenol Chloe had coaxed down her throat when she was too lethargic to notice.
Shit, Joyce probably could've convinced Max's stubborn ass to go to the ER.
As upset as Chloe was over it, she had to give Max her flowers. Chloe had the upper hand in every way- she had the car, and the strength to carry Max there. Yet, Max still was able to look her in her tearful eyes, and tell Chloe "No," with so much conviction it scared her. "No hospital Chloe, I'm fine."
That at least got a chuckle out of Chloe. Weak, but still a real, genuine laugh. "Max, you are definitely not fine." I'm actually really scared you're dying right now, and I'm not sure I'll really have much going for me after a thing like that is what she really wanted to say. But of course, she did not.
"I will be fine," Max insisted. "I just... need to rest, okay? So please, no hospital."
Sometimes Chloe felt guilty for trusting Max so much. This wasn't the kind of decision she should be making on her own; if Chloe was even half the kind of friend that Max was, she'd scoop her into her arms, toss her ass in the truck, and race to the nearest Emergency Room, complaints and arguments be damned.
But Chloe trusted Max more than she had ever trusted her own self. Max saved her life so many goddamn times. Max was gripping her arm with all the strength she could muster, and looking at her with those stupid, round beautiful eyes, and Chloe knew Max believed she would be fine. So, Chloe believed it too, even if she thought she probably shouldn't.
A low, rickety sound that Chloe soon deciphers as a now conscious Max rasping "Hey Chlo'" breaks Chloe out of her own head for the first minute in hours.
"Hey dude," Chloe says softly, brushing her friends sweat drenched bangs out of her eyes. "How're you feeling?"
"Better." Well, her forehead didn't feel normal, but it definitely did feel less hot. So Max probably did feel better. Which was why Chloe will always believe her. "What time is it?"
"Ah, I dunno." It was 3:47am. "Haven't kept track. You've been conked out for a good while though."
Max shifts in her blanket, before freeing one of her arms and lifting it so slowly that Chloe can only imagine how heavy her body must feel. She's reaching out, and Chloe thinks she wants the water bottle on the bedside table, but when Chloe goes to hand it to her, she instead feels a warm, clammy hand gently cradling her face. Chloe can feel her body immediately begin to relax, because it doesn't matter what state Max is in, Chloe will always crave her touch like it was oxygen. She doesn't even feel like a total loser when she leans into Max's touch, though she does blame it on her exhaustion. "You look like shit, Chlo'."
Chloe really snorts at this. "Caulfield, there's like, no actual way you're saying that to me right now."
This makes them both laugh like little kids, and Chloe tries not to show too much concern on her face when Max damn near coughs out a lung.
"Okay, well, you look tired," she manages between coughs. "You need rest too."
Its shit like that that makes Chloe want to burst into tears sometimes, take back every rotten thing she ever said but didn't really mean in the five years Max was away. Here she was, having her first lucid moment in hours, and all she was worried about was how Chloe was doing, if Chloe was taking care of herself like she took care of Max. For as long as Chloe had known her, she had never once thought she deserved Max Caulfield's warm, gentle presence in her life. Maybe all this was the universe finally confirming that fact. Maybe this was Chloe's punishment for being so ungrateful, so mean, but still alive. She's proven time and time again that she has zero regard for her own life, so it was only fitting that she got to sit here and watch the one person she had left, the person she always cared for more than anything, suffer in front of her eyes.
Selfishly, Chloe was almost positive that she was in more pain than Max was.
"Chloe," Max says firmly, almost sounding like her regular self. "I'm serious. You need to sleep, okay? I'll still be here when you wake up."
"I know," Chloe says without missing a beat. Because if Max says so, Chloe believes so. "But I'm not tired. I'm alright, Max. Swear."
Max looks at Chloe, like, really looks at her, and Chloe remembers just how uncomfortable Max's gaze can be at times. Growing up, Max could always tell when Chloe was lying, and from the looks of it, it was a skill she maintained even while spending half a decade away from her. Sometimes Max knew without a shadow of a doubt Chloe was lying and let it go anyway because she trusted her just that much as well. If Chloe had to guess, that was probably what made Max just hum and close her eyes; if Chloe knew that there was nothing in this world that could convince Max to go to the ER, Max knew there was nothing that could convince Chloe to fall asleep while she was in this state.
"I think you're just a weirdo that likes to watch me sleep."
Chloe smiles softly because Max can't see her, and runs her fingers through her damp chestnut locks. "I do," she admits. "You look so peaceful, even now."
Max furrows her brows as she peeks an eye open. "O-oh. I thought you were gonna make a joke about me finally shutting up or something."
"Not when you sleep talk, dude." Max smiles as she closes her eyes again, and Chloe almost leaves it at that. But the more Max breathes softly, and so painstakingly slow, the more the knots twisting up in Chloe's stomach make it clear that she can't. "Sometimes I think you underestimate just how much I fucking missed you, Max."
Max hums. Chloe thinks she can see her bottom lip tremble a bit, but she isn't too sure. It was still really dark. "Maybe. I think you do too, though."
Despite everything that happened, Chloe thinks there's some truth to that. It's not something they ever actually talked about, because that's just how things were. Once they got over things and accepted them, it kind of just became water under the bridge. Chloe preferred it that way. She didn't really want to talk about it back then, and she honestly didn't wanna talk about it now.
Just hearing Max say that was enough for right now.
Chloe does eventually doze off. Not for too long, because the sun had only just begun to peek up from over the horizon, but long enough that Max had managed to free herself from Chloe's makeshift cocoon, and sit on the edge of the bed, watching the window. Chloe notices a solemn energy about her.
Chloe yawns, stretching out the tight kinks that she managed to accumulate from sleeping upright on the ground with her head on the edge of the bed. Max hears her stirring and turns to smile. "Just when I thought your sleeping positions couldn't get any fucking weirder."
Chloe shakes her head, though she can't help but smile. "Eat me." Chloe climbs onto the bed and inches towards Max so they're facing each other. Their knees brush and, embarrassingly, a fuzzy feeling shoots up Chloe's leg. She pushes that to the side, and places a palm on Max's forehead, pushing up Max's bangs in the way that causes her to scrunch up her nose in annoyance. Her hair isn't damp anymore.
"How're you feeling?"
Max smiles so sadly that Chloe is almost positive they can both hear the way her heart cracks in two. "Like shit." Max's voice wasn't as hoarse anymore, her eyes were no longer watery and she even regained some colour back. Best of all, while her fever wasn't gone, it had dropped quite a bit. But Max said she felt like shit. So Chloe believed her.
"I'm really sorry, Chloe."
"What, for getting sick? You were always there for me when I was sick, just take it as an IOU."
Max ducks her head and smiles, and Chloe thinks she can make out a dusting of pink on her cheeks, but she just takes it as the warm colours of the sunrise filtering in and amplifying her fever-flushed skin. Still, Chloe thought she looked distressingly pretty.
"No... well, yeah! But not just that, um..." Max chews on her chapped lips and Chloe has to force herself to focus on literally anything else. "I'm sorry for what I did. And for Joyce, God I'm so fucking sorry for that Chloe, and for leaving all those years and never talking to you-"
"Max, those things weren't entirely in your contro-"
"And I'm sorry for coming back and making a decision so selfish that you're kinda forced to be around me forever now. I know it's all we ever wanted it's just-" Max pauses to close her eyes and take a shaky breath, so Chloe wipes her eyes because Max can't see her. "I can't imagine life without you Chloe, not again. I just hate that it happened this way."
Its a lot to process, and Chloe doesn't really know where to start. She almost doesn't even realize she's laughing until she notices Max looking at her crazy. That just makes the young punk laugh harder, clutching her sides as tears stream down her face. Then she notices Max's frown deepen and begins to straighten up. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just-" she looks at Max's unamused face and tries desperately to hold back a snort. "I'm not laughing at you, it's just- Max, just a couple hours ago I was afraid to go to sleep 'cause I was scared you'd die, and now you're apologizing for saving me."
Max grins bashfully. "Yeah, well. I'm still sorry for getting so sick, that wasn't cool."
"No, it definitely wasn't, but I'm sure I can find it in my heart to forgive you." Chloe grins like an idiot as Max rolls her eyes in faux annoyance, not even trying to hide the smile spreading across her face. "Besides, I got to feel just a fraction of what you had to feel all week. It should go without saying that I'd pick you a million times over, so I'm glad you picked me Max. All I ever wanted was for you to come back, and I have that now."
"What if some day you wish I chose differently?"
"I wont," Chloe says firmly. "Look, I know I definitely haven't, like, processed everything yet, so I know the worst of it has yet to come. There are probably gonna be days where I miss my mom so much its unbearable and I wont want to move, days where the guilt of just being alive will literally be eating me from the inside. But no matter what, at the end of the day I'll know I have you with me."
Max coughs, though she could've been trying to laugh, and her lips wobble softly. "Hey, you didn't even think about it."
Chloe bumps Max's knees with her own. "Well yeah, dumbass. I love you. And I'm sorry you were ever even in the position to make that decision; I know you said it wasn't fair to me, but it wasn't fair to you either. But, and I know it's selfish, but I'm always gonna be glad you chose me."
Max smiles as she reaches over to hold Chloe's hand. "Well yeah, dumbass. I love you."
They watch the sunrise in comfortable silence, and for some reason Chloe feels the same way she felt that morning when they escaped the Arcadia Bay wreckage; things could suck tomorrow. Hell, things could suck later today. But as long as Max was still there with her, Chloe didn't mind sticking things out 'til morning.
"Um, Chlo'?"
"Yeah?"
"I, um, really wanna kiss you right now. But I'm still pretty sick."
Chloe opens her mouth to respond, probably to say something smart, but instead thinks 'fuck it' and leans in instead. Max's lips are hot and chapped, and her skin is so sticky.
Chloe is so grateful that they're both alive.