Chapter Text
The phrase "picture imperfect" is a clever, contrasting play on the common idiom "picture-perfect." It refers to a situation, person, or life that is flawed, messy, or chaotic, rather than flawless and idyllic.
Chapter 1: Overexposed
Earlier, Safi brought over a six-pack and, as per Max’s wish, a bag of those disgusting chocolate-covered pretzels. Max devoured them within minutes. How anyone could enjoy that weird mix of sweet chocolate and salty pretzel remained completely beyond Safi.
“If you rewind time just to experience eating those a second time, I’m officially moving out of Caledon,” Safi remarked. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as Max shoved another handful into her mouth.
They spent a fun evening playing Mortal Kombat. Max loved the exaggerated gore, while Safi relished the simple fact that she rarely lost. Max usually endured the game just to watch Safi dominate fights with ruthless precision, but tonight the tables turned. Max gained the upper hand at the very end and won the last three rounds in a blur of frantic button-mashing.
Finish him! Flawless Victory. Scorpion wins!
Safi dropped her controller onto the cushions with a heavy pout. She immediately launched into rapid-fire excuses for every single one of Max's smug grins. "I drank way more beer than you. Pure luck. The controller isn't reacting properly."
Max’s eyes darted to the coffee table. Her vintage Polaroid 1000 sat right next to the empty beer bottles. Safi still wore that heavy pout of defeat. It was a rare sight, and Max wanted a permanent trophy. She reached over and lifted the camera to her eye.
She almost had the shot, but her friend possessed a terrifying sixth sense for lenses. A split second before Max pressed the red shutter button, Safi’s head snapped up. The genuine pout vanished, replaced instantly by a cross-eyed grimace and a sticking-out tongue just as the flash popped.
The motor whirred, spitting out the square.
“Dammit, Safi!” Max groaned, pulling the camera down. “Just once, let me get a candid shot of you. You always ruin it.”
“I’m protecting my brand, Caulfield,” Safi stated proudly. She held her hand out and wiggled her fingers. “Hand it over. My turn. The world needs to see the face of a ruthless, button-mashing killer.”
Max passed the heavy plastic camera over. She typically preferred staying behind the glass, but the three craft beers had successfully filed down her defensive edges. A warm buzz settled behind her eyes. She leaned back into the cushions, threw up an exaggerated peace sign, and flashed a wide, tipsy smile.
The flash popped bright white. Safi caught the ejected film and waved it lightly.
“A masterpiece,” Safi declared a minute later, passing the glossy square back.
Her smiling mouth and fingers were in razor-sharp focus on the glossy square, but everything above the bridge of her nose was cropped out entirely.
“Safi, the upper half of my head is missing,” Max laughed, pointing at the botched portrait. “I think you're way too drunk to operate a camera.”
“That was intentional,” Safi defended herself with a haughty sniff. “Half-face shots are the new trend. As a renowned photographer, you should know that.”
Max snorted and shook her head. Safi thrust the camera right back into her hands.
“Okay, switch back. My turn to model again,” Safi said. Her mischievous grin glowed in the dim room. “Wait, I have a better idea for this one.”
Her features blurred for a dizzying second. The familiar face and dark eyes vanished. Sitting in Safi’s place was a perfect replica of Max, but with a cascading, waist-length mane of raven-black hair.
“Ever wanted to know how you look with long black hair?” Safi asked, perfectly mimicking her friend's softer vocal cadence.
Max laughed in surprise. She instantly lifted the camera and pressed the shutter. “A bit too gothic for my taste, but work it!”
The flash popped, and Safi’s form rippled again. This time, the broad shoulders and stiff posture of Owen Teller, the new campus president, materialized on the couch. Safi puffed out her chest, pinched her nose, and pointed a scolding finger directly at the lens.
"No more funding for the arts, Caulfield! I require another gold-plated yacht!" Safi barked, perfectly capturing his condescending tone.
"God, he really is an arrogant money bag," Max snorted. She laughed so hard her ribs ached and snapped the photo. "Hold still, let me capture the capitalist greed."
The motor whirred again. The alcohol finally caught up to Max, wrapping her brain in a heavy, warm haze and making her limbs feel loose. She wanted to capture one last chaotic moment of the two of them together, so she tried turning the Polaroid around for a triumphant selfie.
Her tipsy coordination completely betrayed her. The camera slipped in her grip. She fumbled to catch it, and the heavy plastic flipped backward in her hands just as her finger squeezed the shutter. The bright flash popped right in her eyes, capturing a blurry, overexposed shot of her own surprised face.
“Careful there, lightweight,” Safi teased, shifting back into her own body. She snatched the final ejected square from the air and laughed at Max's stunned portrait. “You’re a danger to your own equipment tonight.” Safi held it out for Max to see.
“I’m just experimenting with abstract self-portraits,” Max defended herself weakly. She burst into a fit of giggles she couldn't suppress.
The laughter slowly faded into a comfortable quiet. Max set the camera down on the table, letting the alcohol's warm buzz settle as a deep swell of gratitude washed over her. She had managed to convince Safi not to leave the university, and helping her stabilize her powers changed everything.
The gaping hole left by Chloe was already unbearable enough; losing another close friend was something Max wasn't sure she could survive. She had grown tired of running from her past, of packing her bags the second things got heavy. She didn't want to run anymore. With its quiet, snowy streets and ancient brick buildings, Caledon was finally starting to feel like a place where she could imagine settling down. As long as Safi stayed.
Keeping her thick emotional guard up cost more and more energy, and lately, the thought of making Caledon her real home came to mind frequently. Even Inner Max wasn’t entirely against the idea. At least, not always.
Inner Max, the split facet of her psyche and alter ego, had been a constant companion for longer than she could remember. If she tried to recall their very first conversation, she couldn't find a starting point. It had simply begun somewhere between the lonely move to Seattle and the nightmare of Blackwell.
Initially, the voice acted as a quiet protectress, kind, understanding, and supportive. But it had since evolved into a darker half, a stark, high-contrast inversion of Max's soft exterior. It possessed a mind of its own now. Mirror Max, the aggressive and unyielding side of the split, often pushed her right to the edge.
She had told Max to pull the trigger on Frank. To steal from the fund for the disabled. She had pushed for the road trip, had demanded sacrificing Chloe to calm the storm, and had urged shooting Safi to stop the next one. Max had listened every single time, except for the very last. Defying that voice had been the right decision. The storm passed, the city took a heavy hit, but no one died. Safi was alive. And Max was...
Happy? You ain’t happy, Max, Mirror Max whispered. Maybe calm before the next storm hits. You sure you wanna settle down here? Put 'em all at risk just 'cause you’re craving a happy ending?
“Maaxiiine?”
Max shook her head to clear the intrusive thoughts and blinked a few times. Safi had drawn out her full name in that long, playful singsong voice. “Huh? What?”
Safi laughed, the sound warm and easy. “You were zoning out again.”
“Sorry, I...”
“Don’t be. It’s part of your charm.” Safi patted Max’s thigh, her grin turning teasing. “Though if you keep drifting off like that, I’m gonna start calling you ‘Space Captain Maxine.’ Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
A small, tight laugh slipped out, never making it to Max's eyes. She wrapped her arms securely around herself, suddenly feeling a little too exposed. “Careful, Safi. You’re reaching your three-Maxines-per-day limit way too fast today.”
Why not tell her how much you hate your full name? Mirror Max sneered. Tell her how much 'he' loved calling you that.
Safi winked and patted her thigh again. “Where was your mind at this time?”
The gentle touch pulled Max out of the Dark Room memories. She chewed nervously on her lower lip, desperately trying to ground herself in the present. Looking up, she locked eyes with Safi. The orange firelight danced across her friend's features, making her look soft and patient. It was always easier being honest with her than with anyone else in the world.
Even more than Chloe? Oops, my bad. Chloe’s long gone.
Max wasn't sure why, but ever since she merged the timelines, her darker half seemed noticeably more treacherous. Her words dripped with a sharper venom.
“I was just thinking about how glad I am you’re still here,” Max said quietly, her eyes locked on the coffee table. “After everything with your powers, I was terrified you’d just pack up and leave Caledon. I kept thinking I’d wake up one day and you’d be gone. Just like...” She trailed off, her throat tightening as she stubbornly refused to say Chloe’s name out loud. “Anyway. I’m just really glad I talked you into staying. I like it here. I like teaching. I don’t think I wanna leave anytime soon. Not as long as you're around.”
Safi’s playful smile softened into something tender. She couldn’t resist giving Max one last light nudge. “Wow, look at you getting all deep on me. Careful, Max. Keep saying sweet stuff like that and I might actually think you like having me around.” She dropped the teasing act, her voice falling into something much quieter, warmer. “But seriously... I really almost left. I thought everyone would just be safer if I disappeared. But you wouldn’t let me go. You helped me. You fought for me when I was completely ready to give up on myself.”
They leaned in and hugged. Max buried her face in the scratchy fabric of Safi’s shoulder, breathing in the comfort of knit wool, fabric softener, and a faint trace of beer. She held on a little longer than usual, her fingers bunching the sweater, terrified that letting go too soon would make the moment vanish. Then her phone lit up, buzzing harshly against the coffee table, and she slowly pulled back.
A text from her parents glared from the screen. The knot in her chest tightened instantly, stealing her breath. Instead of picking it up, she flipped the phone face down. The room went quiet again as she stiffened, sinking back into the protective corner of the couch.
A sudden hardness settled over Max, her shoulders pulling tight. Rather than prying right away, Safi just gave her a quiet moment to breathe.
“Okay, the silence is officially getting way too loud in here,” Safi said softly after a minute, nudging Max’s foot gently with her own. “We need a distraction. Go pick a record.”
Max blinked, her gaze still locked blankly on the dark plastic of her phone case. “I'm fine, Safi. We don't have to...”
“Ah-ah,” Safi interrupted, waving a hand toward the vintage turntable across the room. “Go. Pick something mellow. Let the vinyl work its magic.”
Max let out a soft sigh. The gentle command was exactly what she needed to unfreeze. She pushed herself up from the cushions and padded over to the low wooden shelf holding her records. Crouching down, her fingertips trailed over the worn cardboard spines. The familiar, tactile ritual of flipping through the sleeves instantly grounded her. She bypassed the upbeat indie pop and the heavier rock, searching for a sound that matched the aching weight in her chest, before finally pulling out an atmospheric, acoustic folk album.
She carefully slid the vinyl from its paper sleeve and set it on the platter. Flipping the power switch, Max lifted the tonearm and lowered the needle. A soft, satisfying crackle filled the room, followed immediately by the warm, resonant strum of an acoustic guitar.
Max turned back just as Safi reached for a nearby wall switch, dimming the main lights until only the flickering fireplace and a small floor lamp illuminated the space.
“Poet’s orders,” Safi said with that easy grin, watching Max walk back and settle into her corner of the couch. “Time to let the vibes do the talking.”
For a few long minutes, they just sat in a comfortable silence, letting the music wash over them. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, its rhythmic, woody pops blending perfectly with the mellow notes of the acoustic guitar. The dancing flames cast a warm, flickering orange glow across the room, making the space feel beautifully cocooned. Safe.
Safi gave Max a little more time to just breathe. She stretched out on her end of the oversized couch, leaning back against the armrest with her legs casually draped over the cushions, and quietly watched her best friend. Max sat just a few feet away, her leg pulled in tight, a protective shield against the world. Safi's eyes followed Max’s blank stare straight to the phone flipped face down on the table. Max had been totally checked out ever since the screen buzzed.
Having known Max for a full year, Safi considered them unequivocally best friends, but that invisible wall still showed up sometimes. She knew the brutal truth about Chloe. She knew Max had been forced into an impossible choice, sacrificing her girlfriend just to save Arcadian Bay.
Through careful observation, Safi also knew Max constantly retreated into the safety of her own head. She could be socially awkward, depending heavily on the situation and who she was talking to. Safi didn't know anything about shrink territory or official clinical diagnoses, but she knew Max's mind wasn't an easy place to live in sometimes. Even if she didn't always catch the exact moment Max started to slip, she kept an eye out for the signs, doing her absolute best to keep her friend grounded.
Safi watched the tension that was still holding Max's shoulders hostage. She let the music fill the room for another beat before she finally decided to break the quiet.
“Hey, Max?” Safi’s voice fell soft, hitting that specific tone she only used when she was genuinely trying to get through to her. “You’re dodging your parents again, aren't you? I saw your screen light up earlier and you just stared at it like it was the loaded gun the other you shot me with. What’s the deal there? You never really talk about them.”
It was never just one message. Her parents texted way too often, sending an oppressive stream of check-ins. Are you going out this weekend? Can we hear your voice today? Is the department chair nice to you? Are you sleeping okay? Their need to know exactly how she was doing came from a place of pure love, but it felt like a physical weight pressing down on her chest. Her mother was the primary source of that relentless pressure. Vanessa's texts arrived with a suffocating frequency, demanding constant engagement and updates until tracking every detail of Max's life became an inescapable burden. It was glaringly clear that her mother struggled most with accepting that the version of her daughter she was holding onto simply didn’t exist anymore.
Max tightened her fingers around the cotton hem of her shirt, her eyes locked on the mesmerizing flames. The familiar rewind itch prickled hotly at the back of her skull. She felt the old urge to just undo the moment, to force Safi to swallow those words back down. But this was Safi. Her best friend. The only person alive who knew about the time powers, the fractured timelines, and Chloe.
“I don’t really know where to start,” Max murmured, her voice trailing off lower than she intended. “It’s not like they’re bad people. Dad was always the easygoing one. He took me to hockey games, sent me dumb dad jokes when I was away in high school. He’s actually the reason I love horror movies. We watched Alien together when I was way too young, and Vanessa chewed him out for weeks afterward. He always wanted me to try new things, but my mother was just... always overprotective. They both tried so hard after the move to Seattle. But after Chloe, after the storm, everything shifted.”
She deliberately left out Blackwell Academy. No one needed to hear about it and start snooping, prying into her past. If anyone discovered her darkest secret, she’d be forced to leave Caledon and Safi. She couldn't let that happen.
A painful lump formed in Max's throat, forcing her to swallow hard. Talking was exhausting. Letting someone in physically and emotionally felt nearly impossible. Even after all the literal hell they had survived together, something primal inside her fought violently against opening up.
Don’t let her in, Max. It means less control and more space for new wounds. You know that.
Safi slowly edged closer, her movements quiet on the soft cushions. She didn't crowd her, but she stayed close enough for Max to feel her warmth. She didn't interrupt. She just waited in the dim light, her head tilted, her dark eyes patient.
Max took a shaky breath, the words materializing slowly, like an image developing in a darkroom. “I chose to let Chloe die so the town could live. I rewound reality itself. I killed the girl I love to save everyone else. How do you possibly explain that over dinner? ‘Hey Mom, Dad, sorry I’ve been so weird, turns out I can mess with time and I basically played god and still lost the one person who meant everything to me.’ They’d either think I’m losing my mind, or they’d worry themselves sick. Or worse, they’d look at me like I’m broken. Like the innocent little girl who used to fall asleep on the couch during movies is just gone forever.”
Her voice cracked painfully. “If they see how messed up I really am, they might just turn their backs on me.” She picked obsessively at a loose cotton thread on her shirt, completely unable to meet Safi’s gaze.
Safi reached over, warmly covering Max’s fidgeting hand. Her thumb brushed slow circles over Max's pale knuckles. “Max, that’s a hell of a weight to carry all alone. No wonder you keep everyone at arm’s length. Even them.”
Max nodded, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Short phone calls and texts just feel safer. ‘I’m fine, busy with work.’ It’s a script I can actually control. Visiting them, forcing myself to pretend to be the normal daughter they remember, it takes so much energy. Their concern just suffocates me. I hate ghosting them. But showing up? What if I just break down in front of them? Whenever I tried to form the truth, the words wouldn't come. It felt like a black void in my throat swallowed them before they could even reach my lips.”
What are you doing? STOP TALKING, MAX! Mirror Max hissed inside her head. Tell her to go, pack your things, and let’s get out of this place. It’s not safe for us.
Safi squeezed her hand, sliding closer until their shoulders brushed. Her tone stayed steady, anchoring her. “You’re not broken, Max. You’re surviving the kind of trauma most people can’t even begin to imagine.”
And don't you dare tell her about him!
Safi’s voice dropped, turning vulnerable in a way she rarely shared with anyone. “I’ve wanted to tell my mom about my shifting for years. I’ve practiced the conversation a hundred times, but I never do it. What if she looks at me like I’m a monster, or some dangerous weapon? I don’t know how she’d react, and that uncertainty just freezes me. Keeping it to myself feels safer than risking her trying to control or lock me up.”
Max lifted her wet gaze. The shared weight of their secrets settled gently between them. “You actually get it. I guess we’re lucky she doesn’t remember what happened.”
“Part of me wishes she did, honestly. Then I wouldn’t have to figure out how to put it into words.” Safi leaned in, resting her warm forehead gently against Max’s. “But maybe your parents might surprise you, Max. The same way I still hope Yasmin will surprise me. They sound like they love the hell out of you. They don’t need the full cosmic horror story right away. Just start small. Tell them you’ve been struggling with heavy emotional stuff from your past. Tell them you miss them, but it’s hard being the exact daughter they remember because life changed you. No supernatural powers mentioned. Not until you’re truly ready, if ever.”
Max took a shallow breath. As she began to consider the suggestion, the tight knot in her chest loosened a fraction, but the moment the quiet settled, Mirror Max tore through the fragile peace.
Start small? 'Heavy emotional stuff'? Are you insane, Max? You know exactly what Vanessa’s going to jump to.
Stop it, Max pleaded silently, closing her eyes tight.
If you give her a vague 'I am traumatized' speech, she’ll never let it go. Out of pure concern, she’ll corner you. She already asked if he took those photos, and you looked her in the eye and lied. This time, she won't accept the 'I'm fine' excuse. She’ll dig until she reaches the parts of the truth you’re still trying to bury. She’ll realize you've been lying for years, and she’ll want to know if he did more than just take photos.
He didn't, Max argued back, cold sweat prickling at her hairline. I remember.
Do we really remember? the voice whispered, dripping with toxic paranoia. We were drugged out of our minds, strapped to a chair in the Dark Room, dumped on the cold floor where he posed us. Passed out for hours. What if we just buried it to survive? What if she keeps asking and digging out of motherly concern until she forces us to remember something that will actually break us? Don’t give her an opening, Max. Keep the wall up.
With a trembling breath, Max desperately shoved the thoughts back into their lockbox. She forced herself to lean into Safi’s side, letting the warmth of the fire and her friend’s steady presence pull her back to reality.
“…Maybe I could start with a longer call,” Max whispered, her voice fragile. “Not tonight. But soon. If you’re around after?”
“I’ll always be there for you, Max,” her friend promised fiercely. “We’ll even script the very first text together if you want. Poet’s honor.”
“If things settle down between you and your mom, will you finally tell her?” Max asked softly.
Safi gave a small, rueful shake of her head, her dark curls bouncing slightly. “I don’t think I’m ready. Not yet. And yeah, I know exactly how hypocritical that sounds while I’m sitting right here pushing you. But that’s exactly why I’m saying it. I know how terrifying it is carrying something this huge all alone, something that could change how someone you love looks at you. You’re not a bad daughter for needing some space, Max. It’s hard enough just dealing with all of this yourself.”
Max finally looked up, meeting her friend's steady gaze. The flickering firelight cast warm shadows across Safi's face, offering a quiet strength Max desperately needed to borrow. “Still, I’m so scared they’ll just worry more. Or worse, pull away entirely.”
“They might worry,” Safi admitted, brutally honest as always. “Parents just do that. But they’d definitely rather deal with the worry than sit around wondering why you're slipping away. Shutting them out doesn't protect them, Max. It just keeps you hiding behind that wall. And look, hiding is fine for a while, but you don't have to stay back there forever. You definitely don't have to do it alone.”
Safi shifted slightly, firmly squeezing Max’s pale hands. “You let me in. About your powers, about Chloe. And look, I’m still here. I'm still your annoying, nosy best friend who snoops in your wallet and forcibly drags you to poetry slams. Your parents might surprise you, too. When you’re finally ready.”
Max took a long, slow breath, feeling a heavy weight finally slip off her chest. The fire popped loudly in the grate. Safe. A small, genuine smile touched her lips, and for the moment, her darker half was blissfully silent.
The quiet between them didn't feel tense or awkward, it just felt comfortable.
Nothing was magically fixed. The guilt, the distance, and the terrifying wall that always made human connection feel like walking a frayed tightrope without a net, it was all still there. But tonight, with the fireplace glowing amber and Safi sitting solidly beside her, Max felt like she could finally breathe air that wasn't made of ash. Maybe letting someone in didn't always have to end in another storm. For the first time in years, the thought of actually calling her parents didn't feel completely impossible.
They sat in the quiet for another minute, letting the crackling fire do the talking. The heavy energy in the room gradually faded, leaving them both completely grounded.
Then, with a deliberate burst of theatrical energy, Safi clapped her hands together loudly, completely shattering the solemn spell.
“Alright. That’s enough gloomy doom and heavy introspection for tonight. Time for a rematch!” She grabbed her controller, making the console instantly glow to life with a soft electronic beep. Turning back to Max, she pinned her with a dead-serious glare. “I’m gonna destroy you, Caulfield.”
Max responded to the challenge with a reluctant sigh, sinking deeper into the plush cushions. “I’m really not in the mood.”
“Aww, come on.” Safi shoved her shoulder playfully. “What better way to get our minds off all this depressing parents stuff than a little senseless digital bloodshed? The booze is empty, there’s no weed. I need this rematch, Max.”
“I’d honestly rather go for a night walk and take a few nice shots.”
“Look, Shutterbug, you can’t always use your photography to unwind,” Safi’s tone grew mock-ferocious, her dark eyes glinting in the firelight. “Sometimes it just has to be murder and mayhem.”
“We already played for hours, and you had several rematches,” Max waved a hand dismissively at the screen, “all of which I won. Just saying.” She looked brazenly smug.
Safi’s jaw dropped in feigned outrage. “You really do have a death wish tonight, don’t you? Max! I need to beat you one more time.”
“Why?” Max arched a skeptical eyebrow, an amused smile finally breaking through her emotional exhaustion. “You’re better than me anyway. I’ll even admit it out loud. You're the champion and I just got lucky.”
“Exactly!” Safi snapped, her face instantly dropping into a look of absolute, unblinking gravity. “That’s exactly why I need the rematch. Otherwise, I won’t be able to sleep. I’ll lie awake all night, haunted by the tragic knowledge that I was beaten by a loser.”
Max blinked, her soft melancholy vanishing, instantly replaced by a spark of indignation. She sat up straighter, narrowing her eyes. “What did you just call me?”
“Loser. With. Luck,” Safi enunciated slowly, jabbing her accusatory finger straight at Max’s chest with every single word.
Max swatted Safi’s hand away and aggressively snatched her own controller from the table. The oppressive sadness was gone, replaced by a sharp competitive fire. “That’s it. Rematch. I’m gonna wipe the floor with you, Fayyad.”
She hit the selection button with a loud, definitive click. The television screen flashed bright, throwing them right back into the bloody arena. For a few intense minutes, the living room echoed with nothing but the frantic clatter of plastic analog sticks and the gory grunts of their fighting characters. Max leaned far forward, completely absorbed by the glowing screen, determined to prove Safi wrong.
Then, Safi's character suddenly landed a devastating, unblockable combo. Max threw her hands up in premature defeat. Trying to dramatically twist away from the screen in mock frustration, she pushed up from the soft cushions a little too quickly. Her alcohol-heavy limbs completely failed to respond, her foot catching hard on the thick, woven edge of the area rug.
She stumbled forward, her shin banging painfully against the solid wood of the coffee table. Empty beer bottles clinked together and tipped over. The jarring impact jolted her precious Polaroid right toward the edge, leaving it teetering dangerously over the hardwood floor.
Don’t rewind. You’re drunk! her alter ego warned.
Reacting on raw instinct, Max desperately lunged for the camera. Misjudging the short distance in her tipsy haze, she clipped the plastic body with her knuckles, sending it juggling frantically through the air. Pure, panicked reflex took over. She dropped her controller entirely, letting it crash to the floor so both hands could safely snatch the vintage camera from mid-air.
Got you!
The sickening crack of plastic hitting the edge of the table and then the hard floor followed a heartbeat later. Max winced as a phantom pain shot through her chest. “Nooo...” Max breathed, stretching the word into a low, aching groan. The sorrow and regret dripping from her voice were unmistakable. .
Her beloved Astro Bot controller lay cracked open on the floorboards. It wasn't the wasted money that hurt, but rather the time and love she had poured into customizing it. It was a one-of-a-kind piece. The little specialty shop that had modified it to her exact specifications didn't even exist anymore.
Max sank heavily to her knees. Operating on cold autopilot, she set the vintage camera safely back on the table before gathering the shattered pieces of her controller, cradling the plastic components as carefully as if she were picking up an injured kitten.
She let out a trembling sigh of relief. At first glance, it looked worse than it actually was. The top shell had popped open, and the flip-flop colored cover had fallen off. With a tense press of her thumbs, the top shell snapped back into place. The custom cover didn't seem entirely ruined, though she noticed a fine hairline crack running down the side. But as she gently shook the device, a loose rattling echoed from inside the casing. To her dismay, more than one vital piece had definitely snapped off the motherboard.
“Shit!” She frantically pressed the center button, trying to reconnect the controller to the console, but the light remained dead. It wouldn't turn on.
Safi slid closer on the couch, leaning over to inspect the damage. “Isn't this, like, the exact moment where Max is glad to have superpowers? Just rewind.”
Max? Max! We don’t rewind when drunk. You do remember what happened last time.
Max sighed, her tense shoulders slumping in defeat. The alter ego was right. “No, we don't want to do that,” she whispered back, answering the reflection in her mind.
Safi tilted her head, her dark eyebrows furrowing in obvious confusion. “Hm?”
“Just talking to myself,” Max mumbled. She pushed herself off the floor and sank heavily back onto the couch cushions next to her friend.
“Ah, business as usual in the Caulfield household. But seriously, why not just rewind it?”
“I'm drunk, Safi. It really won’t end well.”
Safi opened her mouth to argue, but Max stood firm, cutting her off with a sharp shake of her head. “Just believe me.”
“Do I even want to know what happened?” Safi asked cautiously, an amused glint sparking in her dark eyes.
A fiery blush suddenly flared hot across Max's pale cheeks, burning all the way to the tips of her ears. “No, you don't. And never ask me about it again.” She raised a stern, warning finger to emphasize the point.
“It was only three beers,” Safi teased, gathering the tipped-over glass bottles by their necks to carry them into the adjacent kitchen.
“You know I can't handle beer,” Max called out after her. She nervously turned the damaged controller over and over in her hands, feeling the fine crack under her thumb. “It turns my brain to straight-up mush.”
“Okay, maybe I can help. Or rather, Jack can,” Safi called over her shoulder. She walked back in, leaning casually against the warm stone of the fireplace while pulling out her glowing phone. Her fingers rapidly tapped the glass screen. “Let me quickly check if he's still awake. He usually works straight-up late into the night.”
“Who’s Jack?” Max asked, looking up.
Safi kept her head bowed over the bright screen, but stopped her thumbs mid-tap. She slowly lowered the phone, staring at Max with a completely blank, unblinking expression for three long seconds. “You've been at Caledon for a whole year and you've never once been to the Computational Arts department? Max, it's literally in your building.”
“The building is huge! And I'm not exactly interested in computers. Photo-nerd, remember? I only even need a computer for typing lesson plans, wading through endless internal email chains, and editing my DSLR shots.”
Safi's head snapped up, a triumphant, bright grin spreading across her face. “Oh, he's still there. Come on, grab your coat and pack up your controller. He can fix it.”