It's hard to write because the show has gone so far downhill, so this is mostly for me: to remember what made me love this couple so much in the first place. This is dedicated to all the other EClare writers out there. Thank you.
Clare is only vaguely aware of Miss Dawes talking in the background; she's too busy trying to decode the tense, hushed argument she had overheard early that morning. Apparently, her dad had been out all night, returning around five in the morning to change his suit before heading in to work.
As she twirled her pen between her thumb and forefinger, Clare tried not to think the unthinkable thoughts. But it was hard—especially considering Clare's mom had run into one of the partners of her dad's firm at the church food drive last night, and Mr. Dirk had alluded to the fact that they had a startlingly low case load.
Clare's stomach churned. She wasn't going to think the thought. She couldn't. La la la, Clare was immune to thinking.
Suddenly, the bell jangled loudly, echoing in the empty chambers of Clare's brain where she was not thinking about the possibility of her dad cheating on her mom.
Gosh darn it….
"Make sure, those of you who are interested, that you finish writing the first draft of your poems for the Provost Competition by Friday if you want me to look over them!" Miss Dawes yelled over the din of students scrambling on to the next class. "Eli, Clare…I trust I'll have something from both of you on my desk by 3?"
"Of course," Clare smiled tiredly at her favorite teacher. She hugged her notebooks close to her chest and started to follow Eli and Adam out into the hall.
"What am I? Invisible? Talentless? You guys can still see me right?" Adam waved his arms dramatically, making an absurd face.
"Do you hear something? Sounds kind of squeaky…maybe a little whiny: devoid of all writing skill."
Clare elbowed Eli in the side playfully, all her anxieties momentarily melting away. It was much easier not to think when Eli unleashed the full power of his sarcasm and his smirk. "Adam, I'm sure that if you wanted to write something, Dawes would politely pretend that she understands the brilliance of an Ode to Videogames."
"Look at it this way, man: at least she still gives you the illusion that you have a choice to do extra work. Meanwhile, Clare and I are just expected to excel. It's awful." Eli shuddered mockingly.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever; make fun all you want, but it's exhausting being the tag-a-long kid to Dawes's Spectacular Eli and Clare Praise Fest." Adam stuck his tongue out, and all three of them stopped by his locker.
"Sure. Your suffering is great, and nobody understands you. You're a regular Emo Jesus, you humble bastard." Eli quickly snatched the beanie off Adam's head so he could muss up Adam's hair.
"Eli!" Clare chastised, her cheeks flushing a light pink. "Could you not?" she huffed, playing up the fact that she was upset just a little bit.
He looked properly abashed, casting his eyes toward the ground. "Sorry. Forgive me?" he implored, glancing up at Clare through his long, thick eyelashes.
He was so not playing fair.
"Only if you agree to come over and help me workshop my poem tonight." Clare quirked her eyebrow at Eli hopefully.
"Wouldn't miss it," Eli agreed, smiling softly at Clare.
"Barf," Adam scoffed. "Could you two at least pretend like you're not undressing each other with your eyes when I'm around?"
Eli kind of sputtered, and Clare's cheeks felt like they were on fire from her embarrassment.
After a second, Eli recovered enough to quip. "You're just upset because my hanging out with Clare cuts into our make-out time. Don't worry, buddy, you know I'll always love you best."
"Har har," Adam yuked. "Don't be a dumbass."
Clare felt herself chuckling softly, totally lost in the moment of happiness. "You guys are the best, you know that?"
Adam flushed softly with pleasure, and Eli smiled longingly at Clare. "Look at that," Adam poked Eli's forehead. "He's going soft on us."
"Shut up."
###
Clare tapped at the keys of her laptop without actually pressing any of them. Eli was in the bathroom, and Clare was absentmindedly thinking of the way he had smelled a little bit like cinnamon when he had been leaning over her shoulder to read her work. More and more, Clare found herself staring at him, thinking about him…totally consumed by the possibility of Eli when she wasn't obsessively thinking of her parents.
He was just so sweet, and humble, and intelligent, and everything Clare valued in another human. He really cared about people and creativity and learning.
And it didn't hurt that he had the whole mysterious, dark, sensitive look that made Clare want to squirm out of her skin.
Eli just made her feel so full of life and energy. Being around him was like feeling shockwaves tickle your skin continuously, and Clare started finding herself craving his company.
"Someone's working hard," Eli teased, making Clare jump.
"I was projecting into the void for inspiration," Clare explained matter-of-factly.
"Did the void give you anything good?" Eli chuckled.
Clare met Eli's eyes and immediately found herself trapped by some magnetism. The color of his eyes was so richly green that it felt to Clare for a moment that she was slowly falling through them. "Maybe…I haven't really decided yet." Clare's voice came out more breathless than she had been hoping for.
Eli smirked. "What'll be the determining factor, do you think?"
Clare suddenly looked away, her heart feeling all shaky in her chest—in a good way.
"If I ever actually write a poem," Clare scoffed, tapping the shift key a couple times out of irritation.
"I think I have a pretty solid start to mine," Eli ventured, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "You want to hear what I have so far?"
"Definitely," Clare nodded eagerly.
"Okay." Eli smiled shyly and cleared his throat. "It's called Dear Journal #83:
She changed the
way I measured the
world—
instead of minutes
put to rest and
months of
ambivalence
I quantify
life by the
excruciating
build of
tension till I'll
kiss her for the
first time and
the flickers of
emotion
captured by the
Azul truth of
her
eyes.
"Or is that too cheesy?" Eli gulped when he finished reading.
"I—um—who…I mean, is it about anyone in particular?" Clare could feel her heartbeat in her throat, and her palms were twitching with anticipation.
"My own void-provided inspiration," Eli smiled, and it was so warm that Clare felt her body turn to liquid.
"Oh good," Clare squeaked.
Eli's eyes traced over Clare's bewildered, hesitant expression. The subtext was sitting heavy between them, and one of them was going to have to be brave and acknowledge what was going on. Finally, when Clare bit her lip nervously, Eli kicked back and stood out of his chair.
"Fuck it," Eli nearly lunged himself at Clare, and she caught on just in time to stand herself and meet him halfway. Suddenly, his hands were in her hair—cradling her head as it fell back—and her hands were at his waist, gripping his shirt and pulling him closer. Their lips took a moment to find their footing given the frantic way they had been crashed together, but once they did, Clare felt her body floating away on the pure bliss of Eli's lips on hers.
Once they pulled away, Clare felt like the room went spinning. "Wow," she managed.
Eli just nodded, a goofy grin on his face. They both sat back down slowly, and Clare tried to will her heart to slow down a bit.
After a few moments of silence, Eli asked, "Found any inspiration yet?"
"I think I might be on to something," Clare giggled, meeting Eli's gaze with a breathtaking smile.