Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi, but I do own a lot of moments.

Beta: The wonderful: Catrienstardust

Sometimes, we only have one moment to make a difference, and sometimes, we don't know when those moments come until they're at our goddamn doorstep, knocking the shit out of our door. That's how you know you can go, or at least move, because what people don't understand is that the knocking door will only knock for so long; there will come a time where your chance will be gone. Your chance to be something, to prove yourself, will be gone. Forever. You can't run and get it, because, once again, you only have one moment. One moment to make things right, one moment to change things, and one moment to be brave enough to open that dark and heavy door.

I, Elijah Goldsworthy, had that chance. My chance was beautiful and had blue eyes. She talked like she knew everything, and most of the time… I can honestly say that I hated her. She was too bright and too light and I was a pile of rocks, ready to go out into the sea like Sylvia Plath. She knocked on the door- my door- and surprisingly, I opened it up. I opened up the creaky, old, and dangerous door and I found someone who was breaking down the middle, who needed someone to notice her. She spoke in code and riddled her phrases; most of the time I didn't understand a word that she said. But I guess that it's okay. I didn't mind.

When I met her, I was black. (No, not in the skin, because I'm pale as snow if I miss a day in the sun.) I was black in my mind and I was burnt out. I smelled like rich smoke and cold ashes. That's who I was, and where I began. I was always a bit scared of the world, though I liked to deny it, I was always afraid of the light. I wasn't happy, and the thought of being happy terrified me. The thought of facing anything made my heart pound too many fucking times in a minute. I didn't want to face the world if I was just going to wear a fake and plastic grin. I didn't want that. I wanted to hide in a shadow and talk to the few creatures that visited me. I wanted to drown in the sorrow that flooded around me. That was just how I was.

I ran over her glasses and I completely wrecked them. At first, I thought she was going to yell, because she seemed like the type to yell, but she just stuttered. I fell for her that day. I told myself that after Julia, I'd stay away from anything that could die, or be hurt. I promised myself that it would only be me and me only, not stopping for anything else, and certainly not planning on anything else. But then I saw her, or, when I heard the door knocking, and her glasses cracked… In a way, so did I.

We were a mosaic. We were both shredded and torn up, but slowly, on those warm nights, we fixed piece after piece in each other. At the end of the project, we had bits of each other glowing in one another, something I'd never experienced before. Because of that, I imagined her dying like Julia did; I imagined her waking up to realize that the parts of me were killing her. That became my nightmare, that I had killed her. It was something that I worried about when I was alone, and everything but my creaky house was quiet.

Our mosaic lost its shine when Fitz came back. Every time I was near him, I heard his voice in my head, calling her a bitch, and him almost killing me. My nightmares changed, became about him killing her while I was the one to watch. It was always bloody in those dreams, and at the end of these dreams, Clare would tell me that it was my fault, and I'd wake up. I'd wake up to my room. Alone.

Then, before my mind could process it, I was crazy. I crashed my car after she had called me to say goodbye. I was in the hospital. I needed her. I was wrong. I loved her. But mostly, I was scared. Scared of the way the sun set and the way the leaves fell when they weren't needed.

I came home from the hospital after three days. My leg was wrapped up and I smelled like crazy and drugs and pain. I did nothing in my break; I felt nothing in my break. I was alone and nervous during that time, and it only became worse when the first day back rolled around and I saw those blue eyes looking for me. I felt like she was a tiger and I was her prey; she caught my eye and devoured me.

After that, I won't go into specifics, because I don't think I'm ready to think about everything just yet. But basically, I was a bit messed up. I wanted her, because I needed her, but she didn't want me.

And here I am.

I'm in love with her. And she's in love with him. Jake Martin.

Typical love triangle.

She and I are complicated, but only to me, because I think she forgot of my entire existence. At least what I used to mean to her. We're complicated in a scary way that makes my knees shake. We are so wrong, but when she says my name in the hallway, just in passing, everything is okay. Everything is fixed when we talk. My lungs work when she's around and my leg doesn't quake. She has something over me, and it's deep and misshaped and I can't dig it out.

But it doesn't matter what I feel, because she's with Jake Martin. She's happy, I always hear her laugh down the hallway, and I, Elijah Goldsworthy, laugh too. It's contagious, I swear. It's rich and sweet, just like her. And it reminds me of those warm afternoons when everything was…okay. When my mother's whistle would help me out of the hole and when Julia would come around and have those long talks about absolutely nothing but everything all at once. Clare's laugh is like that. It reminds me of something beautiful and raw. Something that's reserved for the strong, but what the weak cling onto.

Now, my therapist tells me that I have to talk about Clare. But I won't, I sneakily dodge questions about her. I'm getting better, but I know that Clare Edwards can break me with a snap of her soft fingers. I know that, and I'm keeping my distance. I'm trying not to step over the line between caring and caring too much. (Even though I do care too much.) I don't want to stress her out even more than I have been. I take my medication. (Even though it makes my mouth dry.) I used to do it for my family and friends, but now I want to get better for myself. I'm slowly getting better. (Even though there are those days that bring me down.)

Even on my worst days, when the glass breaks and my body is hammered with stones, I think of her. I think of what I built with her, and what I can build with myself. I think of her as a moment. I think of how I opened the door to let her in, even though I promised myself I wouldn't. She was the knocking door, and although I'm not sure how she feels about me, or if she even cares… I know that she will always be special to me- even if someday I didn't love her.

Clare Edwards was a moment. A soft, brilliant moment that I caught right in the palm of my hand. I was lucky to have had that moment, because some moments only stay a split second, and then poof, they're gone.

A review would be quite lovely! :)