Disclaimer: I don't own degrassi.
Happy birthday to Devin!
I.
The first detail about Elijah Goldsworthy that she fell in love with was his hands. They were rough and held secrets larger than she could ever imagine. The flesh on his hands were calloused and angled and bruised with something that could only be identified as a result from hard labor. They looked dangerous and rather pale.
But then, when he'd grasp her warm, delicate hand in his, his own became a part of her. It was a puzzle piece that seemed to match every cell and line that she had. And when she had tried to explain this to Alli, the dark-haired girl had just rolled her eyes, because to her, they were just hands. Just large hands that were spidery and bony and stuck out at odd angles. But to Clare, they were the reason why her body shivered and giggled at his touch. Especially when they'd drift up her floral dress and would make her feel that boil in the pit of her stomach.
And what really got her is when his calloused finger would gently sweep across her freckled cheek. This happened when she was angry or passionate, and he simply brushed her skin softly, and her emotions flew out like a whistle. It was a simple touch, but god, it made her heart burn with something that she could only define as the beginning.
Clare Edwards didn't know what it was the beginning of, but she knew that it was going to be big.
II.
She learned quickly that the boy was a mess without his coffee in the morning. The bitter bean was essential to his morning routine, and without it, he'd sulk around and scoff at everything. Everyone that knew the boy stayed clear of him before his second cup of coffee.
This was the eighth charm that melted her oddly deformed heart.
Elijah Goldsworthy's tongue tasted like sweet sugar - because he dumped more than five sugar packets into the drink - and that became Eli. The bitter yet sweet taste of sugar and coffee. And, also, that combination was a little description of Eli. The bitter but sweet boy that smelled like smoke wrapped in sugar. His taste tattooed itself onto her taste buds and everything that wasn't him, was a disappointment. She longed for his chapped and plump lips on her own. She desired for his rough and gentle hands to wander north and make her gasp with pleasure.
At this point, she was beginning to understand what this feeling was. Clare Edwards was in the middle of falling in love with the boy that tasted like the drink she used to hate. She was in the middle of falling in love with the boy that drove a hearse and made her reach a heavenly pleasure on their second date.
The girl didn't mind, but she feared the end. Every story has a beginning, middle, and an end. And she was afraid that someday, their ends wouldn't touch.
III.
He sung her name with a light and airy sing-song tone. And it sounded pure to her ears, and she can't tell if he's actually singing her name, or if she was just so mesmerized by his voice that she was going crazy.
Clare Edwards honestly can't tell.
But the way he said her name made its way onto her list as number seventeen. With just the call of her name from his lips, Clare Edwards forgot how to breathe. He made her sound important and exotic and it rolled off his tongue smoothly. Especially when she handed him her ring with sudden impatience and he simply said, "My, my, Clare Edwards." And he pinned her to the carpet and showed her the benefits of saying goodbye to abstinence. And she didn't care about the angry burns on her back from the carpet, because the way he was saying her name made everything fade. Because she was making Elijah Goldsworthy's eyes roll back and making his toes curl.
His shaggy and out-grown hair fell into his eyes and his gaze settled on her, and Clare had never felt anything so...raw. Because he was shaking and the 'L' word was drifting out of his mouth like a mantra. And she locked her legs around his slight waist and let his rough hands explore her and let his bittersweet tongue wander. He gasped and panted and moved faster and kissed her neck with such grace that Clare closed her eyes in sweet sorrow. It was a goodbye of some sorts, but it was also an opening to everything.
"Clare Edwards." He whispered as he finished and his sweaty cheek found home on her breast. His body stayed flushed against hers and his hipbones pressed onto her own. And it was when he rubbed aloe on her rug-burned back that she realized what an odd pair they were. But she didn't care because he scooped her up and whispered her name again, and he gently moved back inside of her.
She had never been so proud to be Clare Edwards.
IV.
The two were used to not having their plans work out. They often found themselves being side-tracked by each other and the amount of skin that was being shown off. And then, on top of that, the other factor was Morty. Their plans were almost always delayed because of the black vehicle. But, the times when Eli worked over his hearse, became one of the best times of their relationship. The radio would be on Bullfrog's station and Clare always had her book out and Eli would simply move his hands around with an air of someone that was experienced.
The thirty-fifth trait on her mental list became the way he chewed on his tongue while concentrating. On those nights when they'd have to cancel their plans because of Morty, Clare would watch in slight amusement as he worked over the car, his teeth chomping on his pink muscle. She'd look up from her book and watch his forehead wrinkle and his mouth at work. It was in these moments when she'd slither up to him and whisper in his ear. And they almost always ended up in the back of the hearse.
And even when their plans did work out, Eli would turn on random roads and he chewed on his tongue when he'd realized how lost they were. He'd ignore the protests of the girl next to him.
Even if it took hours, Elijah Goldsworthy always found the way back home. And usually - much to Clare's amusement - his tongue was bruised up at the end of those nights.
V.
To Elijah Goldsworthy, when he'd speak, sunsets were in the morning and sunrises were in the evening. The boy often got his words mixed up when he'd speak because his mind was so fast paced that it didn't come out right.
And soon, Clare began to do the same.
They were slightly dysfunctional with their words, but everything made sense to them, and in the end, that's all that mattered.
This became the fifty-first fault about the boy that Clare Edwards fell in love with. And she knew every single number and every single trait; because she recited them just to make sure that she didn't forget anything about him. When he'd whisper in her ear about the sun rising in the evening, she reminded herself what number thirteen was; and that was the power to make her smile larger than ever before with just a greeting. And she made sure that she knew number seven; which was the way he laughed so hard that he sounded like a smoker, wheezing and all. And she promised herself to never, ever, forget number four- but that one was very related to number seventeen, so she didn't like to talk about it and she just liked to - how do you say- express it.
And they'd sit on the roof of Eli's house and watch the sunset in the morning and drink coffee. These moments were right after Clare had been pressed up against the wall and after they'd knocked over the two lamps in the living room. And after Eli had pulled her on top for the first time and she gazed down at him, watching her name fall from his plump lips.
On these mornings, when the sun rose, the two stayed silent and Clare went through her list and added several more. Her mind was at work remembering every single detail about him. Their sweet breath puffed into the new air and drifted away like their hearts. Their hands cupped their mugs and the sweat from their previous activities froze on their warm bodies. The sheets wrapped around their fresh bodies became their normal attire and they both found it unnecessary to change into anything else.
And it was always at the end of their time on the roof that their hands would be intertwined like rope. His knobby and sharp hands fit into hers with grace. And the scent of coffee coming off of him was like a home in a home. And when she'd ask him a question, he'd chew on his tongue.
Every single thing that made Eli who he was, came together.
And on those moments on the roof, Clare Edwards was sure that there would never be an ending to them.
VI.
The list stopped at number seventy-seven, and it was the way he looked in the hospital.
His hair was matted down to his forehead and blood coated his fingertips and that's when Clare Edwards took a step back. He chewed on his tongue as she watched him in horror. She recited each number out of habit and tried to think of something to say.
Number fourteen- The way he talked with his hands when he was passionate about something.
Number forty-two- The way his sarcasm bounced off everyone but her.
And it was when he smiled with a wince on his lips, that she became scared. She used to be so sure that they had an empire and nothing was wrong. But when he latches onto her arm, everything was clearly wrong. And Clare Edwards didn't think about the boy in the hospital bed. She thought about the boy who made her feel on top of the world. She thought of the boy who made her think that she was ready. Ready to fall in love.
The girl turned around and left and she walked down the pavement and the "sunrise" taunted her. And she knew exactly what number the sunrise was. And she knew that she'd never forget it.
But obviously, their ends didn't match up.
And with every step she took, Clare Edwards realized that maybe, just maybe, love wasn't enough.
Yup.
Review, please? :)
Not gonna lie...my faith in Eclare is up.