Hey guys. Another one-shot? I think yes. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. R&R, please!
Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi.
You're on the edge. You're teetering near the end of the cliff, one false move will send you tumbling down and into the ice cold water. But hey, that water looks pretty welcoming. You're pathetic, her voice says in your head.
You're so pathetic. How does that feel? It sounds like a question from your therapist, like when you're stuck in that tiny room with suffocating air.
You hate sitting there. You hate sitting on that rubbery maroon chair, watching her goddamn fake smiling face look you in the eye and act like she knows you. You watch her scribble in her yellow notepad, taking note of every single little thing you say, like it's important. You want to snap at her, ask her what's so vital to those tiny emotionless words I said. You despise how she looks at you like you're clinging onto life by a thread. You loathe how she nods her head at things you say, like she completely understands, like she actually cares. You despise how she's on the edge of her seat, like she'd be ready to dart, in case you exploded.
You hate how the pity is apparent in her eyes, how she agrees with Her. You're pathetic.
How does that make you feel, Elijah?
Does it make you sick to your stomach? As sick as when she calls you by your whole name? That roaring water under the edge of the cliff looks like a fucking meadow to you. But you're crazy, so it makes perfect sense. Oh, who are you kidding? It doesn't make sense to anyone. That's why you want Her back. She'd understand, or at least try to.
Her name is Clare Edwards. She ran away from you, she dropped all the pieces of you she was trying to piece back together and she darted while she still could.
She probably thinks you're crazy, that maybe you're losing your mind. But who are you to disagree?
.
.
.
I kept my notebook under the bench of the hearse, taking a deep breath before I stepped out the driver's side and my converse hit the thin layer of snow with a crunch. I looked towards the front of the school, only to see her auburn curls peeking out from under her hat. She turns around and smiles and waves to someone behind her, and I almost step back once her beauty reaches across the parking lot and makes a grab for my heart, and then taking a squeeze. Her cheeks are rosy, her lips a bubblegum pink. Her blue eyes shined bright, the azure color making her face a whole lot brighter. I felt that lovesick feeling in my gut again, and I sighed as I saw the scarf tied around her neck and the mittens covering her hands.
Never have I been so fucking jealous of a pair of mittens.
Because they had her hand, and I didn't.
Damn you, Clare Edwards.
.
.
.
I'm definitely going crazy.
Wigging out. Blowing a gasket. Going berserk. Flipping a lid. Going koo-koo bananas. Going off the deep end. Hitting the ceiling. Losing my cool. Freaking out. Going ballistic. All of them.
She was just putting books in her locker, but it made me crazy… if I wasn't already. I force myself to look away, to put my head back in my locker and close my eyes. Watching the way her hips naturally sway as she walks won't help anything. I can only watch her when I'm not being that pessimistic boy that hates the world and everyone in it.
Well, almost everyone.
I wish I hated her. I wish I could hate her. But I can't. And it's ruining everything.
At least I tell myself that. I'm stuck. Perhaps there can't be all of this happiness if there isn't this pain to weigh it all out on some unknown scale. Who knows? Maybe she's hurting, too. Just as much as I am. But as I see her every day, walking down the hall with that gut-wrenching smile as she laughs with her cocky childhood best friend, I can't be so sure.
She loves me; she hates me, and I try not to let that break me.
Did I just rhyme? Hm. I did. I laugh to myself, like the sick teenager I was.
Am I crazy? Probably. But at least I can admit it to myself.
.
.
.
English class was the worst.
She sat directly in front of me, and I couldn't help but watch her movements. How her shoulders hunched when she giggled, how the back of her neck was tensed when she wrote. How she took her chapstick out of her pocket and popped the cap off… sweet jesus, I can't watch this. It's too tempting to just lean forward and turn her head so I can smash my lips over hers, right where I dreamt they could be for the last forty-nine days.
Yeah, I've been counting. I can't help it, days without her giggles and sugar-coated voice are like hell. So when she leans back in her chair and her lavender scented shampoo's aroma wafts my way, I stop to close my eyes and inhale.
Because that's how desperate I am.
.
.
.
I'm back again. Back to that place with all the health magazines, the ones that people scoff at and secretly enjoy.
"How are you feeling today, Elijah?" Dr. Stevenson asks, even when she already knows the answer.
I'm just fucking great, miss. Clare Edwards won't even spare a glance in my direction. I love her and she won't even look at me once. I feel like I just slid down a damn rainbow.
"I'm great." I answered with false enthusiasm.
"Hn." She sighed, and scribbled something into that yellow pad. "How's your friend, um…" She flipped through the notebook, looking for a name. "Ah, Clare! How's Clare?" She acted like it was nothing that she just filled the room with her name. I gripped the armrests of the maroon leather chair while my jaw clenched. Breathe involuntarily blew out of my nose, and Dr. Stevenson scooted even closer to the end of her chair. What, was she going to run away from me now, too? I exploded, my loud voice ringing through the entire small room.
"How would I know how she is? She hasn't talked or even looked at me in days." I yelled, and she stood up from her chair silently, setting her notepad on her desk before walking past me.
"I'll leave you to gather your thoughts. I'll return in five minutes when you've calmed down." She said sternly before I heard the door shut. I heard my heart beating in my ears, and I wasn't sure if it was because I was angry or if it was because it was broken. A tear dripped down my cheek, and I whipped it away with the back of my hand, but another one soon took its place. I flung myself out of the chair, and I'm sure that my face was as red as Clare's when I whispered sweet nothings into her ear.
"DAMMIT!" I shouted into the empty air, reaching up to grab my hair in chunks and pull at it, the pain unapparent as I just needed to grab something. I can't get her out of my head, everything reminds me of her.
It feels like I'm in hell.
But hell is what you make it, right?
.
.
.
I strode right over to her, ignoring that pulling feeling in my heart when I saw the back of her curls.
"I can't take it anymore." I said to her, making her head whip around.
"E-Eli… um, can't take what?" She asked, and I smirked out of habit when I heard her voice. But it quickly faltered as I grabbed her by the wrist, speed walking to the side of the building. "We're going to be late." She pointed out.
"I don't care. I need to tell you this." I took a deep breath and blew it out. "Clare, I can't stand being without you. Wow, that was cliché, but it's true. I hate it. I hate how you left, how you left me broken. I hate it. I'm sick and tired of having my heart broken. I should hate you, I really should. I ask myself why I don't, and I can only come up with one answer. It's because… because I'm in love with you. You're beautiful, and funny, and opinionated… You're perfect." I finished. Her eyes were wide, and I couldn't tell if it was because she was shocked or confused. I didn't know which one to hope for. Her mouth opened and closed several times, making me wonder what she was going to say before she changed her mind each time.
"I… I don't know what to say." She finally blurted.
"I couldn't tell." I said sarcastically, and she smiled slightly. Though slight, it still made my heart flutter off-beat.
"Can you hold back your sarcasm for once?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, and I held my hands up in mock defeat. She rolled her eyes kiddingly, and I can't tell you how surprised I was that she wasn't acting like I thought she would react. I figured she'd tell me off, point fingers, yell. But… she wasn't.
"Ireallymissyou." She mumbled quickly, looking down at her feet. My head perked, wondering if I heard her correctly.
"Pardon?" She took a breath.
"I really miss you." She told me, and if my heart could've flown out of my chest, it would.
"I thought you hated me." I said softly, and her eyes immediately closed.
"I could never hate you." She opened them. "I have too many feelings for you. No matter how hard I tried to get over them, I couldn't. I'm… stuck." She confessed. Is this a dream? If it is, I hope I don't wake up.
"If you have feelings for me, they why'd you leave me?" I asked quietly, not making eye contact.
"See, that's the thing. I love you, a lot. And that scared me." She explained softly, playing with her fingers.
"I was scared, too, you know." I mumbled, offering a small smile. She returned it.
"I'm sorry." She apologized, and I almost jumped when she wrapped her arms around me. My skin tingled with fire, electricity, something. Don't get me wrong, it was the good kind of burning, and I loved every single second of it.
"I'm sorry, too." She mumbled against my shirt. While I stood on the side of the school with the love of my life, I realized something important. That cynical voice in my head, always breaking me down and telling the hardcore reality… it was me.
"It's me." I whispered, and she pulled away with a curious look on her face.
"What was that?" She questioned, and I shrugged it off like it was a normal occurrence. Which… it was.
"Just talking to myself." I replied, going in for another hug before she ducked out of it and stood there with her arms crossed, that damn breath-taking smile on her face.
"Maybe you are crazy." She commented, and I almost laughed at the cheesy thing that came to mind before I took a chance and pressed my lips to hers.
"Only for you, Clare."
End.
Oh my goodness. That was terrible. Oh well.
Review? See that blue button down there? Yeah, I'd tap that.
-Emmy.
