Disclaimer: Degrassi does not belong to me.
A/N: This is my take on Eli's past. I don't know much about him, so I made stuff up that I think sounded like him. This one's only a little longer than the other two, but it's also not that great, I don't think. So bare with me. I'm trying, LOL. This is based off the song 'Bleed' by Cold. It is not a songfic, though.
BLEED
I love music, always have, always will. It was my way to bleed, my way to burn up my frustrations with my parents when I'd hear them fighting. It's the reason why I have - well, had - these headphones. I always kept them on me, to cancel out any and everything I never wanted to have to hear.
I hated school, never wanted to go. I didn't have a reason to get up every morning. Almost didn't get up every morning. I slept with my headphones on, blaring loud music that soaked into my brain and kept the pain at bay.
But I kept it all inside; I was good at hiding it. I didn't need my parents to argue more when they realized they were hurting me ... I know they'd blame each other. And that was extra pain that I didn't need.
My music became louder. And I became fascinated with death. Wondered what it would be like. Though I was too scared to even try it. And that's where Morty came along. He's been my best friend for a few months now. He is my one way of being able to feel death without having to actually ... you know, die. If something happened to him, I don't know what I'd do.
When we moved I protested (more to myself than anything, because I'm not the type to speak my mind in front of parentals). I wrote angry poetry, drew angry pictures, did any and everything to keep myself distracted, but still stayed silent.
Before my first day at Degrassi Community School I drove past the building to see if there would be anything that looked remotely interesting. Of course I found nothing. I knew these next two years here would be Hell. There would be no one here that could even be able to comprehend me, let alone fathom what's going on in my dark mind.
Like always, it would be just me and Morty, in this together.
And that was when I heard a crunch under my tire. I got out and felt a little bad about the glasses that I just ran over. I picked them up and shrugged. "I think they're dead," I said and handed them to the most interesting girl I'd ever seen. I almost didn't want to let the glasses go because in the few seconds she took to grab them from me, I'd felt the warmth emanating from her skin.
"It's okay," she'd said and I watched as she faced the ground, almost as if she didn't want to say goodbye to them. "I, uh, don't need them anymore. I got... laser surgery."
That was when I really saw her eyes, those bright baby blues. "You have pretty eyes." I could get lost in them.
She had smiled and looked down shyly. Cute. "Thanks." I could listen to her forever. "I'll, uh, see you around?"
"Guess you will." I'd smirked and turned grudgingly back to my hearse, evidently away from possibly the most amazing girl I could ever meet in my life, and drove off. I didn't know the full meaning of that statement until I walked into my English class and she was there. I chose the seat in front of her and as our teacher did a role call, I paid careful attention to the name her voice called out for. Clare Edwards. Turns out she's a sophomore, in my grade eleven Advanced English class.
I had to learn everything about her. So I talked to Ms. Dawes. Told her that I could be a great help to Clare's writer's block. And she'd agreed.
My need for music became less and less. It's still there for a background sound, but when I'm with Clare, she's all I need. She is music, everything about her. Her voice is the music to my ears that I've always craved. Her eyes are poetry - the poetry of a thousand feelings I've never felt before - beautiful poetry I never thought I could write.
So I said goodbye to my headphones. They're Clare's now. It's her turn for music. Her turn to be able to block out all the pain of her home life. I just hope that one day she won't need them anymore ... and I want it to be because she has me. Because from now and until the day I am carried off by my own hearse, I will always be here for her.
Clare Edwards, you set me free. You let me bleed. I am in love with you.
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