Author's Note: One-shot.
Who doesn't love a cheesy-romance scenario? Hopefully this story carries out that goal. Many people say Cake is more physical and lacks emotional build-up. Well, to all those who complain: here's your emotional build-up! Not Eclare standards, but eh? Give it a shot?
The title comes from what Jake will be for Clare (he's the light to the darkness Eli had given her at a certain point.) But don't worry, Cake is cool for now since Eclare is endgame. No stress.
I would like to say that this takes place after LoveGame, but before Cake becomes friends with benefits. *gag*
Reviews are tremendously wonderful to read and excite over. All this fan-fic writing is new & it's uplifting to see that some people like the writing and editing.
- - - - Dedicated to N. (my muse), because she loves and ships Cake so hard. :3 /sarcasm\
Light in the Dark
1. Alone
There was always something about the rain that sent shivers down her spine. Besides the invigorating coldness and refreshing slicks drops of water which always managed to taint on her face, Clare disliked the rain. A part of her wanted to admire it; the beauty nature had sprinkled in each molecule seemed fascinating. But, that's all it ever seemed, not actually be.
As she walked home, her gaze traveled to the cement with bundles of grass peeping out in every crack, then to the drenched leaves of the willow trees, and suddenly upwards to the gray sky. A part of her was glad that the day was so cold and gray. Clare knew that if it was bright and warm, she would have to try to force herself to be happy in order to match the weather. In a strange way, Clare was pretty pessimistic for an optimistic person.
Rain drops showered on her face, and if you happened to walk up to her, you'd think she had been crying. She wasn't though. She was done with the tears.
I'm fine.
If you would ask her why she hated the rain, she wouldn't give you a good answer. Instead, she would say that she just hated the weather—simple as that. But, the face she made when she would say it in a certain way would only leave you with an abundance of curiosity.
2. Reasons
It was one of those rare moments, when the present brought her back to the good old days, although they weren't so good and they weren't that old.
There were many things that the careless rain did to her, and to be honest they weren't such a big deal. But still, some memories just stuck with her forever.
There were times when Darcy would go over the neighbor's house every day and Clare would be left alone. Darcy would then promise Clare that they would go to the park together and push each other on the swings. But somehow, it always had to rain, and Darcy—having already planned before—would go with her friends the next day when it wouldn't rain.
"Sorry, sis. I promised Natalie before; maybe next time."
Then there was the thunder that roared in almost every storm. The cruel growls and snarls that echoed in each strike use to have Clare hiding under the covers, using a pillow to cover her ears. The way her toes would worryingly curl and her chest to heave rapidly had always been one of the worst things for Clare to experience.
"Please God, make it go away."
When she was in the seventh grade, Heather Morrison had pushed Clare into a puddle of mud. If it didn't rain, she would have just fallen on top of lush grass. But no, it just had to rain and moist surfaces just happened to attract various insects that crawled on her arms as the other kids did nothing but stand there and laugh at her.
"Clare has mud all over her face! Mud-face! Mud-face!"
And she couldn't forget one other reason why she hated the rain.
It was every single time after it would rain, that Jake Martin would head out to the local pond and look for 'pets'. Sometimes, he would bring back a couple of fish he caught and keep them in a plastic container. Other times, he would rarely find a turtle and beg his father if he could keep it, yet his wish was never granted. But, Jake's favorite animal to capture was always a frog—preferably dead.
Something about tormenting Clare was a hobby of Jake. The way she reacted was not any different than any other nine year-old girl, but Jake liked it to be specifically her.
No reason was ever given or asked; that's just the way life was.
She remembered how each frog that smacked her face, shoulders, and chest would slimily slide off her, leaving a moist scent and mark which taunted her.
"Ew! Jake!"
"Ya' should'a seen the look on your face, Clare!"
She remembered how she would shriek and he would laugh. The way she would run to her mother, and Jake would have to 'apologize' after because Mr. Martin thought that it was very mean.
The last time it had rained was when Fitz came to her house and she promised Eli she would never leave him.
"Promise me, okay?"
You get the picture—Clare Edwards hates the rain.
As the murky rainwater stamped onto her body, the coldness made her shiver in lonesomeness. She was the only person walking in the streets, and a part of her wondered if the cars passing by pitied her or didn't care at all.
She knew they didn't care.
Now, all Clare ever thought of, but more so wanted was to feel that there was still someone out there who genuinely cared about her.
She wished she had known it would rain before, so she would have brought an umbrella. Because, she knew how things would turn out once she came home and her mom was back from work by then.
"Clare, look at you! Your clothes are all wet!"
And something inside Clare would be okay that she was being yelled at, because that would mean that her mother actually cared if anything happened to her. The flu, pneumonia, a cold—anything would be feared by her mother, and maybe she'd sweetly tell Clare to take a shower while she would warm her up some dinner. Clare would then happily oblige and everything would be fine; perfectly fine.
And in that moment also, her mother wouldn't be so worried about the divorce or herself, and actually show Clare that she truly does care. Not that her mother didn't care, but sometimes it had to take a lot for her to show it.
But in reality—like other times before—she would shatter those mirrors of hope.
"I just mopped, and you got mud all over the floor." She would tiredly sigh and then let out a hand on her temple, rubbing it in frustration, "Oh, Clare…"
It wasn't necessary for her to get her hopes up that it would be any different this time. She'd be even lucky if her mom was home, by the time she would get there.
3. Coincidence
Her body was shivering to the freezing air and the ice-cold drops of rain that felt as if they were sinking down to her bones. The tip of her nose was forming a reddish coloration, since it was practically frosted from the watery breeze that prickled upon her skin. She stuffed her hands in her thin jacket, but that didn't help any bit. The goose-bumps that quickly formed on her skin was the only feeling she could receive, everything else was numb.
She reached the end of a sidewalk and waited patiently to cross the street, when suddenly a car passed by her at an incredible speed.
Really, it was SO incredible that after one blink everything became worse. As if it was any possible.
It only took less than four seconds, and the recent puddle of water gathered at the curb of the street was then drenched in her skirt and the bottom-half of her shirt and sweater. She gasped a short breath of air, and stood there as the scent of murky rainwater traveled to her nostrils.
Her expression couldn't be as bad as it was before, but she stomped her right foot to the ground as she angrily groaned.
"Great. Just great." She muttered.
The car backed up slowly and was clearly revealed to be a red truck. There was only one person with a red truck she could think possibly think of knowing.
Already, a headache was forming at the discovery.
HE rolled down his windows and the first impression was a short chuckle.
"I thought I knew who you were."
She glared at him and spat, stuttering from the loss of warmth, "Y-you couldn't see me then before you splashed water all o-over me!"
His smile quickly disappeared, and he apologized, "Hey, it was an accident. Sorry."
She mumbled a couple of incoherent words under her breath that he couldn't hear, and then began to walk away.
"Clare! Wait up!" His voice stuttered on a few octaves as he shouted from his car window, "I'll give you a ride!"
He obnoxiously honked and drove by her as she took small steps up ahead.
She had her head straightforward and completely ignored his existence. She was fuming, "I'm almost home."
"Clare, get in the car." He said more seriously, "You're soaking wet for crying out loud! You're going to get sick."
She stopped in her steps and looked back at him.
He cares. Someone cares.
4. Hesitation
Clare didn't say another word, but got inside the car. It was still freezing and her body heat was barely adjusting to the coolness of the leather seats.
She quickly glanced at him and realized that he was longingly staring at her. His eyes showed interest, but not the kind she had seen in him before. His enthusiasm was long-gone and he was too serious for her liking. For a second, Clare wished he would be laughing at her for looking like a complete mess.
He started his engine once again and began to drive as he reproachfully asked, "What are you doing walking in the rain, huh? Searching for a case of pneumonia?"
She rolled her eyes at him—not that he could see it—and softly replied, "How else am I supposed to get home?"
"And your mother?" He asked after a short pause.
She glanced at him from the side of her head and saw that he was pattering his slender fingers against the wheel, something about him was different.
"Busy." Clare sighed.
"Oh," He said before awkwardly clearing his throat and asking yet again, "Missed the bus?"
Clare fiddled her thumbs and said, almost as a complaint, "Degrassi Daily's editor thought my article was too wordy. I needed to edit, and editing isn't something quick to do."
He gave a haughty laugh and realized how flustered she looked. It was obvious how upset she was. To him, she was an open book and it was fascinating how easily she was predictable. But at the same time, she wasn't. She was different.
And sometimes, different is good.
"Glad to see you find the situation amusing." She irritatingly scoffed and shifted in her seat.
He laughed again and took in a breath of air to regain composure, "As a matter of fact, many things you do amuse me."
Did he really just say that?
She switched her view to the window and saw how each raindrop slid diagonally across the glass. The clear bubbles of water that stuck to the frame of the car were easy to stare off into space. It was calming; it was nothing; it was beautiful.
She focused on staring at anything and everything besides Jake, since her cheeks were flushed red.
Avoiding when nervous was a repetitive habit she gained.
All was silent for a brief moment, until Jake clearly heard the tapping that Clare's feet made against the floor of the car. To be honest, it annoyed him. But it didn't anymore, after he realized that she was shivering and holding herself tightly.
Something about her seemed vulnerable, not like when she was younger. It was a distinct vulnerability—emotionally fragile and upsetting.
Her cheeks were rosier than ever and her eyes were the frostiest of blues. She began sniffling; and with one free hand, he grabbed the jacket next to him and tossed it to her. That was before he had also turned on the heater.
Clare looked at the brown jacket sitting in her lap and glanced at Jake, "What is this?"
"Well, you see, it's called a jacket." Jake mocked her—eyes focused on the road—and gave lazy grin.
She clearly wasn't amused and still looked at him, waiting for a serious answer.
His eyes met hers and he snapped his jaw shut. As he briefly stared at her once again, he gulped and his Adam's apple bobbed with…nervousness? No, he couldn't be nervous.
Not around Clare, at least.
His pink lips twitched into a small smile and he still stared at her from the side of his head, but it was the good kind of staring: when silence meant everything and emotions were a whirling confusion that planted a giddy feeling in the pit of each of their stomachs.
Jake breathed out, "You're cold, so put it on to keep you warm, and…you're welcome."
She slid out of her damp jacket and put on his, as she took in the inviting wood-chip scent of it.
"Thanks."
He replied with a quick nod as his eyes went on back to solely focusing on the road.
The next thing they knew, he pulled up in front of her house and she was already grabbing the handle of the door as she said her thank-you and was ready to bid a 'good-bye, see you at school tomorrow'.
But he quickly called out her name and leaned over to grab her arm to prevent her from taking any more steps, "Clare."
And she turned, with an expression full of curiosity.
His grip was secure and reassuring, but strong and tense at the same time. Something was severely addicting about the way he would look and make her feel like that.
Clare noticed how his faced inched closer to hers; the proximity was making it hard for her to think. She got a clearer view of his face—how it expressed a beautiful glow she had not seen for a while. Not since, his thin, soft lips fascinatingly touched hers that night. The warm breath of his which gradually engulfed her face, made her realize in that moment, that no kiss from someone like him could ever possibly be just an accident.
Jake's expression was too relaxed, "If you ever need a ride…"
Clare's gaze bored into his eyes—her mouth half-opened—ready to ask him to go on and spit it out.
"…just ask, okay?" He finished.
Her heart rate was beginning to go back to normal, and she was done daydreaming.
Clare nodded and cautiously spoke, barely believing that Jake Martin was being like that, "Okay."
Jake released his grip on her and a part of her was disappointed as another part of her desired for him to actually hold her and show her that he genuinely cares.
She was almost leaving, but she turned around and was already taking off his jacket. Jake took notice and quickly rushed into saying something.
"Don't worry about it. Hold on to it for now."
She lingered on for a while and looked at him in the eye, but Jake weirdly looked back at her, wondering why she was still there.
"Goodbye, see you tomorrow." Clare smiled.
"Yeah. You too." He coughed out, but covered it with a teasing grin afterwards.
A small wink was given to her, and she knew in that moment—yes this was Jake Martin—he was still the same, but there so much more of him to learn. It undeniably intrigued her.
With that, he drove away.
5. Fine
Jake left with the bad day she had, but unknowingly gave her with a better one. And for a moment, Clare didn't hate the rain that much anymore.
I'm fine; perfectly fine.
Author's Note: Any kind of good/bad review would be greatly appreciated. (:
Sorry if you were expecting them to kiss or whatever, but staying in character is something preferably loved.