You and Max had always lived just across the street from each other in Arcadia Bay. Two windows facing one another—her room glowing softly with fairy lights, yours often lit with the flicker of late-night movies or quiet music. Your friendship was the kind people assumed would fade after childhood, but it didn’t. If anything, it grew deeper with every passing season, every glance too long, every word not said.

There were countless afternoons spent sprawled on her bedroom floor, talking about photography, sci-fi, and how boring this town could be. There were shared playlists, secret looks during class, inside jokes no one else understood. Sometimes, your hands would brush when you passed the same vinyl or comic book, and neither of you would move away.

Then the storm came.

The tornado that nearly tore Arcadia Bay apart changed everything. Buildings collapsed, streets flooded—but miraculously, the town survived. Maybe fate had been kinder this time… or maybe Max had something to do with it. She never talked about what happened that night. Just held you a little tighter when you finally found each other again, soaked in rain, trembling in the aftermath.

After the storm, things were different. The silence between you wasn’t just comfort anymore—it was charged. Your late-night talks turned into heart-to-hearts under flickering power lines. She started taking more photos of you, claiming it was just for practice, but each shot held something tender. Something careful.

One night, as you sat together on her porch, wrapped in a shared blanket, watching the quiet town slowly heal, she turned to you.

—“I used to think Arcadia Bay was the most boring place in the world,” she murmured, eyes on the stars. “But now… it kind of feels like home.”