A/N: This will be a short fic. About 10 chapters or less, nothing more. The story will lead to where they are now. This is an AU fic. Clare will be the one with problems here, not Eli. No, this won't be a: "let's make Clare the victim" type of fic. Clare's parents never divorced. Eli was never bipolar. This fic will center on these two only. Other characters won't be involved. Read and judge at your best interest.

Enjoy.

Chapter 1

"Any thoughts of guilt, any feelings of regret, had faded."

― Stephen King, The Gunslinger

It is extremely cold and snowy.

She's standing with no apparent reason of being there. The sound of cars and people passing by are subtly audible, edging her train of thought and transferring her worries into solitude. But she can't let it all sink in because her mind is elsewhere.

She's 18 and back home for a visit, thinking that her mother and father would be glad to see her. But the thing is - they're not around. It seems like everything is the same as it used to be a year ago.

"I hate you."

The look on her mother's face keeps replaying in her mind. Clare never meant it. She never wanted to say it; but she did and she regrets it.

"You did it, Clare." she whispers calmly to herself, looking at everything and everyone with eerie, artificial satisfaction. "You screwed up again."

She stuffs her hands in her pockets and begins to whistle to herself - an attempt to calm herself. She's not crazy. Clare knows this; she's convincing herself that she's not. All she is doing is trying to distract the tears, pain, and confusion. Her throat is tightening and she's reminding herself to not cry.

Grow up. You're not a baby. Quit your whining - it's your fault for feeling like this.

Eventually she presses her lips together and she shivers out of nervousness.

"What can't you do?" she coldly asks herself, shakily laughing eventually, "I need to stop talking to myself."

The pole light next to her warms her face and she sees a glowing red beneath her eyelids. It's hazy and tiring, hitting her harshly and coloring her pale skin with warm rays that form bleak tones on her outline. The touch of light numbs her.

"Goldsworthy! That snowball hit my face!"

Clare holds her breath because of the familiarity with that name. Her body is feeling warm and she's blushing to herself out of fright. She doesn't want to see him, not when she's like this, not when...

"Alright, alright, I surrender,"

It's his voice and Clare's instincts betray her the moment she turns around and sees him.

Oh, God. He still looks the same. He has that stupid, Goldsworthy smirk still plastered on his face. It's the same one she saw when she first met him and last saw him. His hair is cleaner now; it's lacking the greasy-gel appeal, and this makes Clare upset for some strange reason. She remembers picking on him for that, just like he picked on her. Fuzzball, she recalls. That's what he called her hair. Same as a hairball, just less disgusting. Clare feels her mouth twitching into a smile. The moment would be better if he was alone.

Which he's not.

Eli steps out behind a tree and drops a snowball. He walks towards a girl; she has a large coat on and her hair is tied in a tight bun. Clare feels her heart getting heavier and she wraps her scarf tighter around her mouth.

Clare can't help but give side glances.

The girl haughtily laughs and wraps her arms around him. Eli smirks at her and pecks her lips.

The wind is picking up and strands of Clare's hair are letting loose. Snowflakes fall on her scarf and the cold is stinging her mouth, but she doesn't do anything about it. All she can, and want to, do is stare.

Everything is shock and nothing makes sense.

Eli separates from the girl and looks around. His eyes lock with Clare's. He has memorized her face too well and he can't believe that she's here. It's a dream, he thinks. I'm seeing things, he thinks. Not now, he thinks.

There's sadness in her expression and he shows blank emotion. Typical Eli.

"Hello," she mouths to him.

He smiles at her. Something about his smile feels forced - that doesn't surprise Clare. And for a brief, subtle moment she feels as if they're 12 again. They're good friends who saw each other as anything but what she sees him now.

"I can't wait until I'm 18."

"My dad says that 18 sucks. He says that's the year I was conceived, whatever that means."

"Gross!"

That was them, innocent and weird, oblivious to everything in sight and mind. Then one day it changed.

Clare begins to walk away, wearing her heart on her sleeve. Everything in her body and mind is telling her to keep walking and not look back. She feels that she'll turn into ashes if she does. If she looks back, she'll experience every sentiment she fears.

But she does, and his eyes are still looking at her. They're directed at her soul and she's trying her best to not give anything way. Maybe he tried not to look back too - but for some mysterious, particular reason, he did.

This only makes them human.