Title: She Acts Like Summer and She Walks Like Rain
Rating: T
Genre(s): angst, hurt/comfort, friendship, humor, eventual romance
Pairing: Jerome&Amber
A/N: Hello everyone! Long time, no write :)
Previously named "Sunshine." I heard this lyric and I found it very fitting :)
So this is LONG overdue. Whoops! elossa, I apologize to the moon and back a billion times over! Let me explain, if I may: 1. I accidentally deleted the finished product when I was cleaning my desktop AND I FELT SO SILLY AH! and 2. I finally now, a week after Christmas, had time to sit down and re-write (too much festivities lol). I happen to like this version/idea better than the first, so I hope you like it too!
I really wanted to make this an awesome Secret Santa gift for you because you are seriously one of the greatest authors in the universe. I was so ecstatic when I found out I got to write for you :) I truly hope you enjoy what I have created :) MORE JAMBER IN THE ARCHIVE WOOHOO! Just think of this as a Christmas AND New Years gift! Happy Holidays! :)
On another note: this will most likely be around three to five chapters (all depends on when I have time to write). It was actually going to be a oneshot but I'm already 4,500-5,000 words in and I'm no where near done :D Chapter two is in progress - hopefully more to come soon! Second Person POV is the one and only Jerome Clarke :)
Enjoy, everybody! :)
Disclaimer: I do not own House of Anubis or the title which is a lyric from Train's song Drops of Jupiter
She Acts Like Summer and She Walks Like Rain
She had fourteen suitcases.
Your gangly frame was shoved against the wall by one of her helpers, no apology given. Holding a box of your own things tightly to your chest, you had nowhere to move because you'd surly lose all your toes before you made it to your own dorm. They just kept coming, gliding down the dorm hallway: fourteen different guys with pink and white suitcases trailing behind them. You shouted a dirty word at the guy who pushed you, but hey, you were just an overlooked, pipsqueak of a freshman. Your voice and feelings were no longer heard from those who were said to be "above" you.
(But you've never been valued before. Did you really think college would change all that?)
She brought up the rear, sashaying down the hall while shouting instructions that were clearly going over the boys' heads. Her powerful red pumps gave her short figure a bonus three inches and elongated her already mile long legs. Her black high waisted shorts and milky white skin brightened her peach lips and eyes like melted snow. She carefully watched her things disappear into her new room. When she reached the door frame was finally when she glanced over to look at you. She flashed you a heart stopping smile and screeched a happy "hello!" And you stood there, staring, not really knowing how to react to the show she just performed. Twenty other pairs of eyes on faces that were interested enough to peak outside their own doorways to learn who was causing such a scene, did.
"She's so pretty!"
"How'd she get all those seniors to help her out?"
"Well I'd like to see her at a party one night…"
"Would you like some he –" a loud crash from inside her dorm cut her off and just like that, she was gone, yelling curse words and threatening the huge boys that if one single mirror was broken, she'd have them written up to the RA. You released a breath that you had no clue you were holding and you let yourself slip inside the safety of your dorm.
Which (ironically) was right across from hers.
You set the box down on your bed and stare. You were your only form of help today, which wasn't unexpected. Mum hadn't left the house since the handcuffs were placed on dad's wrists. Over thirteen years and she hadn't taken one breath of fresh air… Dad wasn't offered parole (again). You persuaded your baby sister to stay at home with Mum and to start prepping for her junior year at boarding school. You didn't want to send her off, all alone, (like you), but you knew that with you here at university, she wouldn't get the proper care from mum that she needed…someone had to look after Poppy and if it wasn't you, then who would?
She was so red in the face, so furious and teary-eyed when she heard the news because all she wanted was to have her family back. And you were making her leave. She thought you had given up.
(She didn't even hug you goodbye).
In a way, you sort of had. Due to your dysfunctional upbringing, you weren't very coordinated when it came to socializing with others. Showing emotion also was difficult. Your sister thought college would help you blossom, but you knew better. But you gave her the hope that it may anyways because Poppy never did anything wrong to you. Ever.
(She never could).
You instead learned to never get too close to beating hearts – to never travel too far with someone, because you were abandoned far too often as a child. You were full of quick remarks, heartless putdowns and filled with mischief from head to toe. They were good defense mechanisms. Loneliness was what stood loyally by your side (not people). You've gotten so used to it; you were never the same after your family withered away when you were the wee age of five.
But whatever. What is done is done. You took a deep breath and began to rifle through the box filled with your pranking supplies. Besides the mindless chatter between friends and family out in the hall, the only noise you can hear is the air flowing in and out of your nose.
And a knock on your door.
(Huh?)
She was standing in your doorway, more relaxed now that she fixed the problem in her room, but still very much in control. Normally that was your thing. You were trapped inside your room; from the look on her face, she was intent on speaking with you. Oh goodness. You blinked. She did the same. You're not too sure about her yet, but based on her exceptional manipulation skills, you were actually a little impressed.
But not that impressed: you knew you were better.
"Hello!" She beamed so brightly that you squinted your eyes. She walked inside without being invited and plopped down on your roommate's bare bed. "Wow, you've still got a lot to do in here." Her face cringed at the white walls and stained carpet. "What's taking you so long?"
You straighten your posture and sniffed loudly. Your hands find their way to your pockets. So she wasn't one to think before she spoke and you could infer that she usually got her own way. Interesting. Well, time to learn a little lesson, princess: no one is the center of the universe.
"Some of us aren't as fortunate to have little worker bees at our fingertips, now are we?" Your eyebrows raised and a victorious smirk played on your lips as she cast her eyes downward and mouthed that sentence to herself. She didn't understand sarcasm. You chuckled. Amusing she was, but too aloof for your liking. She gave up and shook her long, honey blonde hair around till it sat on one shoulder. She began to braid it.
"What a pity." She let the words roll of her tongue dramatically. "I couldn't imagine doing all this by myself. You've really got no one to help you?"
You gesture around the empty room. "Don't be so cold to all my friends." She laughed quickly and it was like a million tiny bells ringing in the new year.
"Well that makes two of us," she twisted a hair tie around the thick fishtail braid and gently laid it on her shoulder. You narrowed your eyes in sweet confusion, much like her casual appearance. You were a little offended that she thought fourteen people helping her meant nothing while you didn't even have – you didn't linger on it too long. Your head was beginning to hurt.
You watched her inhale deeply. You could practically see the hundred pound weights that pressed down on her shoulders. "Daddy had a meeting to attend in Paris today. Mum's been gone since I was three. So it's just me too."
Oh.
That kind of alone.
Wow. You were taken aback (but there was no need to show her that). She was a book that couldn't seem to close. You see her expectant look, one that came from a privileged lifestyle and from a deeply caring heart. She wanted to know your story before your name. You're not too sure yourself about what's been written on your pages (your few, battered, dog-eared pages). However she was looking at you with wide periwinkle eyes and you for some reason you didn't want to disappoint her (like you've been so many times before) and—
Oh.
She was good.
You can feel your wall strengthening, hardening, ready to put up a fight by the second. How dare she associate you both with loneliness? You two had nothing in common. Your eyes narrow once more. You weren't about to fall under her spell. You know her game, what she was trying to do. You have no intention of being wrapped around her bony finger.
You were too good for that, remember?
"Don't you need to attend your hive before your workers take snapshots of your bras, Queen Bee?"
Her lips pursed together with knowledge beyond your years. She was a confusing character: she came across as outspoken, ditzy, obnoxious, compassionate, the girl with a smile full of sunshine, when in reality she was one to watch out for.
(Just like you).
"Well, I can tell when I'm not wanted," you really wanted to say that it was only because you just told her so, but you let her finish, "but if you decide that you do need help, with anything, you can always give me a call or knock on my door. I'm here."
She fished in her purse for a moment and shoved a small card with all her information into your fingers before you could think about refusing. And just to make sure she was somehow interweaved into your life, she snatched your phone from where it was lying on your bed.
"Hey!" You shouted, but you weren't paid any attention. She just ran across the hall into her room and slammed the door shut. You beat against it furiously because she seriously just crossed the line. You could handle her moments of intellect and possibly survive the cheeky, bubbly attitude, but you would not stand for stealing.
You absolutely abhorred it.
(For personal reasons of course).
A minute later, she reopened the door and thrust you phone to you chest. "I already set my number into your phone in case if you suddenly have a "Dr. Phil" moment that you need to share with me. Or if you just want to chit chat. That works too. I also sent myself a text so I have you number as well!" Then she flashed him that sunshine smile of hers, as if nothing had ever gone down between you two, squealed "see you in class!" and slammed the door shut once again.
Pssh, and you thought that you were crazy. However she had spoken the truth earlier and it made you want to hide away even further. You weren't that great around people—it wasn't hard to tell, but growing up without a lot of them in your life…how did little miss sunshine understand all that in just five minutes?
How did she instantly care?
(Why do you sort of think you believe that she really did?)
If there was one thing you learned in your many years of solitude, it was that everyone possessed secrets.
You barely walked through your own door before five new messages appeared on your phone and up popped a name surrounded by fifty pink heart emojis.
Amber Millington.
You were in for one hell of a year.
She texted you twelve hours later to come and pick her up from a party.
12:22 am. You were tired, but still awake. Your new roommate, Alfie Lewis, snored like a cow and it was hard to ignore when your beds were only ten feet away from one another. You have always had trouble falling asleep. You felt like you should be sleepy since you put up with the Millington girl as she tried to swim around your head today. After your confrontation, you felt like a nice nap would have put you at ease.
You were incorrect.
In fact, you haven't been able to shake the image of a fishtail braid and the sounds of a sharp tongue from your mind all day long. (You decided that you liked noise rather than silence after she left).
What was it about her that made her worthy enough to think about? She ticked you off immensely after she invaded your space and tried to play detective towards your life. That didn't seem like a good enough reason to you to allow her to consume your thoughts.
She had no boundaries while you had too many and it made her upset that you did not automatically trust her and it made you nervous that she even wanted you to try.
You didn't consider her a friend nor an acquaintance nor a companion. Not anything really. She just so happened to move in across the hall from you. Big whoop. This wasn't supposed to be a life changing event, especially when you didn't want anything to change. College. It was just college. You'd be out in four years hopefully with a degree in business so you could swindle people from their money for a living and make a business to call home. You definitely weren't going to let someone like Amber Millington, a sporadically intelligent, fast-talking, wide eyed girl who believed she knew best, get in the way.
You strapped on your boots and grabbed your car keys anyways.
;;
She was waiting out on the porch of some stranger's house with a half a bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand.
"Thanksssss ssssssso much." You could barely hear her; the music from inside the house could be heard from down the block. Amber's eyes were glassy and her teeth stained from alcohol. You took her hand and helped her stand up. "You took a while getting here, but thankssssssss."
An automatic eye roll. "Can you walk, Millington?"
She began to giggle: giggle, giggle, giggle. "Why o'course I can!" She pointed down at her red pumps. "I do have a pair of thessssssssse babiesssssss." She couldn't stop laughing and you were not about to wait for her to. Gently, you tugged on her arm and made her follow you.
"Now that think 'bout it," she slurred, a brazen smile etched onto her face, "I go back inssssssside now." She yanked her arm out of yours with unexpected force. Your fingers slid across her smooth skin. She turned around and tried to make her way back up the driveway. You made no attempt to chase after her: you knew how this would already end. Amber wobbled a bit; she reverted to taking giant steps, as if she were walking on the moon, thinking that would secure her place on the ground better. You were snickering the whole time, even debating to whip out your phone and record this. It was perfect blackmail material.
(For some reason, you decide against it).
She almost made it to the garage, where you could imagine a row of ping pong tables were lined up, infamous rojo cups littering the tops. Parties weren't really your thing. People were there, for starters, and alcohol never impressed you all that much. Bitter as you naturally were—really quite sour from head to foot—you left a burning sensation in the pits of most of your peers' stomachs which allowed a lingering taste of humiliating defeat to remain with those who tried to outwit you, cheat you, chasten you in your own games. Most would think you and Jack Daniels would be an excellent duo, the best of mates, the life of every party.
(That just screamed how little people really knew you).
Right as Amber was about to knock on the door to let her in, she tripped over the steps. She screamed bloody murder and wailed her arms about, not even trying to catch herself on the way down. It caused Mr. Daniels to slide out of her sweaty palm and crash down onto the cold concrete, shattering around her now scraped knees.
You sighed. You were right: this ended just like how you imagined it would. You ambled up the driveway, a very smug smirk on your lips and a whole list full of remarks lingered on the tip of your tongue. You could have fun with - oh great, she had started to cry. She was pointing towards the broken glass on the ground and through her slurred vocabulary, you thought you heard her whine about "ruining her perfect skin." Really? Even drunk, Amber was still Amber. She was certainly too far gone to recognize how ridiculous this seemed.
But it wasn't just a broken bottle nor scraped knees. It was something much more. This didn't look like intoxicated crying to you. Her tears were too thick and were falling to rapidly: they shot down her face like bullets, causing a small waterfall to slash down her baby cheeks. These were tears that had been held back for too long, explaining everything she hadn't ever vocalized. She was shaking profusely and her mascara was dirtying her face. It wasn't too long until she reached hysterics. You couldn't understand the nonsense coming from her mouth now, but everything she uttered was mixed with alcohol, melancholy, humiliation and shame.
(Everything in that moment you wished she'd never have to feel).
She just couldn't take it anymore. Whatever "it" was. You showed no reaction whatsoever. No words were murmured from your mouth. Exhaustion finally decided to consume you and the terrible music playing from a few feet away was doing nothing to help your mood, only leaving a nasty ringing in your ears. So you scooped her up in your arms and carried her back to your car. She wiped her nose on your shirt. You placed her in the passenger seat and leaned the seat all the way back. She didn't thank you. You weren't expecting one.
Halfway back to campus was when you completely understood.
"N-n-neither of 'em caaame to help-p me today. They d-didn't even ssssay g-goooodb-b-bye."
(So it didn't turn out exactly how you imagined).
They went their separate ways for all of two weeks. You thought it was because she would be embarrassed that you saw her succumb to such a low state or revealed that her own parents didn't find her important enough. Or maybe it was simply because she had discovered someone else to bother and care about.
It wasn't that at all. Amber was very open about everything that happened that night and she seemed totally unaffected with the personal amount of information she shared. Maybe she didn't remember telling you anything. She was severely under the influence and she passed right out after she mumbled those two sentences.
Nope. She knew. She just didn't care that you knew.
(However she did tell everyone else who bothered to ask why she left early that it was because she had fallen and hurt her legs).
The main reason why the two seemed to part ways for a while was due to college and its insistent want for the two to succeed. Amber very much wanted to keep pestering you. You were actually pretty thankful you could take a deep breath again.
You were sitting in the library, attempting to study for your advanced mathematics test coming up. College was a lot harder than you imagined. There were so many temptations around you: why stay in the library and study when you and your roommate could gawk at all the girls on your floor or prank the senior class for ruining all freshmen lives? Now that was a good time. However you received an email from you counselor saying you needed to score at least a B on you midterm to receive a passing C- for the class (because apparently your average D wasn't good enough).
Midterms? Grades? Thinking ahead?
What?
Wow. The faculty actually cared about the students here.
So you gave in because your midterm was tomorrow and you had to retain good grades to keep you scholarship. Though you knew she wouldn't notice, you wanted to prove to your mom that you weren't dad and show your baby sister that you weren't even close to giving up. Sitting in this hard chair with an endless sea of papers covering the table top for three hours has made you remember why you put off this study guide to the last minute. You had no clue what was supposed to be happening in your brain or on the paper to get the right answers. You leaned your head on you palm and continued to stare at the page, hoping the answers would miraculously appear out of thin air.
"You're using the wrong formula."
You didn't flinch; you were pretty used to Amber popping up out of nowhere.
Actually, you weren't expecting Queen Millington to even know where the library was. When you weren't in her line of sight, she spent a lot of time with her American roommate, her roomie's nerdy, stuttering best friend, and a few other people who lived down the hall (in fact the girl with the dark midnight hair, coffee colored skin and who smelled like pencil shavings and summer lilies was very easy on the eyes). Fraternizing, giggling, and partying were very much a part of Millington's college experience, not so much textbooks and study sessions. She went out most every weekend with her girl friends (yet she hadn't asked for you to pick her up again).
She hovered over your chair, her long blonde hair landing on your shoulders. She smelled like daisies and freshly ripened peaches (and you were almost positive that this was what actual sunshine would smell like).
Amber clearly saw the obvious skepticism that was making a home on your face. She rolled her eyes and scoffed so loudly, the librarian had to shh her. She immediately pulled a chair next to you ("Sure, you can sit here." "Oh why thank you!" "Sarcasm, Amber. Sarcasm.") and stole your pencil from your hand. You rolled your eyes in amusement.
(Though she may be annoying at times, every once and a while she made you smile).
"You're supposed to be looking for the circumference of a circle, but you're using the formula to find area." Her "whisper" was more of a soft yell. The librarian was shooting lasers in the back of her head.
Amber began to draw a new circle on his sheet of paper. "The area formula is . You need to use the circumference formula: C = ."
"There's a difference?"
She looked at you in disbelief. "Isn't it obvious? The circumference is the distance around the circle. The area is the space inside of a shape. Duh."
"Are you –"
"Yes, Clarke, I've been in your Advanced Math class since the year began. I sit in the front row." She giggled wildly. "Two places you thought I'd never be."
You really have nothing to say. All you could think of doing was to sit there quietly while Amber completed the question in two minutes flat. You noticed the pride oozing from her smile as she checked the back of the book for the answer, seeing that she had correctly answered the question. She caught you staring at her, noticed your surprised eyes and scrunched up eyebrows.
She shrugged.
"I like to prove people wrong."
She then proceeded to peer edit your entire study guide.
Willingly.
You couldn't stand it any longer.
"Why are you always trying to talk to me?" Your voice was harsh and eyes were interrogative. The librarian wasn't happy with you. "Do you feel like you have to? If that's the case, you certainly do not. Trust me: I'd live. Besides, I haven't done anything whatsoever to make you believe that we're friends – "
"You picked me up from that party," she interrupted, not looking up from your study guide. You were under the impression that she wasn't even listening at all. She just loved to prove people wrong apparently…This whole thing bothered you: if she was going to defend herself, then at least she should have the nerve to look you in the eye! Unless she wasn't trying to be defensive: she spoke the truth, yes, but she actually believed it.
Could she get any more confusing?
"I just assumed you called the wrong person. Who calls someone they barely know to pick them up when they were in such a vulnerable state?"
This time, Amber did look up. She placed her red pen on the table lightly and sat straight in her chair. Her hands rested on her lap daintily.
"I just had a feeling you would come."
You were boiling over by now, but not with rage. You were a mixture of feelings… feelings you thought had been blown to smithereens. Where was your control? You used to have all the control over people that they didn't realize they were in your arena until they lost your game. How long have you been in Amber Millington's without realizing so?
Why had it taken you this long to realize you two were so strikingly similar?
"I almost didn't."
"Liar."
"I don't understand your logic."
"Well it's quite simple actually. You multiply pi times two—"
"Not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean exactly? Can't handle that someone maybe wants to be your friend?"
You blinked first, casting your eyes downwards. Was that it? Was that really why Amber Millington bothered you so much? You thought it was originally due to her spunky moods and happy attitude and how she just seemed to never shut up whenever she saw you. You thought she was just naturally annoying and did this to everyone and she did. But she was trying. Trying to be your friend. It wasn't like you didn't have any: you had your little sister (who, three weeks later, still hasn't spoken to you) and your roommate (Alfie was your buddy, a minion almost, and that was rather quite nice).
You've just never had a friend like Amber Millington.
Correction: you've just never had someone in you life like Amber Millington. She was someone who was perceived as the girl with everything ever imaginable, someone who actually got her wish when she blew out her birthday candles, someone who was the apple of her parents' eyes. She may have all those things. She may not. You haven't known her for too long, but you seem to just…know differently. And she was okay with that: she was fine with revealing that even she, the Amber Millington, had struggled too. She was looking for friends herself.
(Like you did, subconsciously, every day).
Amber just had a better outlook on life—she knew that one day, it would get better. She'd struggled with parents, you knew that for a fact, and maybe she struggled with more, but now that she had tested the waters, she was ready to swim. So far in her college career, it looked like her life was full of sunshine.
Maybe giving people a chance wouldn't so horrible after all.
"Amber, I –"
"SHH!"
The (cranky) librarian slammed a book down on her desk for emphasis. You and Amber looked at each other, both believing that her action totally disproved her point, and burst out laughing.
You two were thrown out of the library and weren't allowed back for the rest of the week.
When you saw her still giggling, still smiling, still surviving…that was when you thought a week away from the library wouldn't be all that bad. You thought taking a few steps into the sunshine wouldn't kill you.
"Care to continue correcting my mess of a study guide?"
Joy instantly appeared on her face. "Only if you buy me a mocha-choca-latte-chino from the Frobisher Café."
"Deal."
You scored a B on your Advanced Math Midterm.
She squealed loudly at the news and threw herself on top of you.
Whatever this feeling was inside of you…you liked it.
(So did she).
A/N: Tada! I have always perceived Jerome to be very secretive and secluded from normal teenage life; he acts to suave and collected to try and make it seem like he knows what he was doing. I feel like his life has been so difficult that he needs someone so plucky and compassionate and silly like Amber to make him truly see just what life could be. That is what I am going to try to accomplish with this story.
What's to come next: more parties, more friendships forming, more secrets, more Jamber :)
I hope your holidays were incredible, elossa! :) Happy New Year (and four year anniversary of HoA) to you all! :)