Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi.

Beta: The Mother-friggin' amazing sixws. :)

I.

Clare fucking Edwards.

That name is everything. It's the head on my shoulders, and on my head, it's the hair on my scalp. The name is something that I wince at and I hate. I hate the name. I hate everything. I hate her and her big blue eyes. I hate how she looks at me and how her curly hair falls over her forehead gracefully; that sets something in me that feels like fire, but it can't be. It can't be.

Because I'm Elijah fucking Goldsworthy.

I can't fall for...her. She's weak and fragile and...and she's lovely and her laugh is the sound I would love to fall asleep to-

Wait. No. I don't mean that.

I don't.

I don't love Clare fucking Edwards.

I can't.

So don't think I do.

II.

I just like how when she smiles, her lips pull over her teeth and it's like the fucking sun. Because she shines, you see. She shines like the brightest fucking star that I've ever seen, if you want me to be honest. And she shines the most when she's not with me. Because I bring her down. I'm the moon pushing the sun down. I'm destroying the rays that shine down on everything. Because I want her. I want her to shine her light on me and completely light me up. I want her to only want to light me up.

But I don't want her like that, of course.

That would be...just...no.

And, okay. Maybe I like how she stares at me when it's just she and I. Her stare is innocent. The blue orbs are like fucking puppy dog eyes. They capture me in a way that I hate. It's innocent and pure and I want to corrupt her, just like all those other people that I've corrupted. But then, when that little smile appears on her lovely lips, I don't want to corrupt her. I just want her to stay the same.

Fuck.

I just want her.

III.

She likes to look at the stars. I always tell her that that's cliché, and so fifty years ago. And she just smiles and tells me that maybe she was born fifty years too late. And then she runs off to the roof of her house, hoping that I'll follow.

And I do.

Because I wanted to, of course.

And she sits on the hard and dirty roof as if it's a bed. I sit next to her and I glance at her. Fuck, I don't know what she wants me to do. Do we talk about how it's fucking cold out or how it's almost midnight?

"Do you believe in love, Eli?" Her voice comes out as a whisper. And I smirk at the question. I mean, who asks that? I squint up at the stars that I can barely see because of all the goddamn lights.

"No," I say finally, my voice coming out really weird and distant, "Love is a bullshit emotion that doesn't exist. It's just used for companies to make money and to make us all a part of the goddamn government."

Her lips pucker in confusion. "How do you even put love and government in the same sentence?" She asks this in amusement and I want to blow it off. I'm not trying to be funny. Love is shit. Feelings are shit. Everything is shit. It's simple, really.

But I shrug and avoid her curious eyes that will capture me in a net and never let me go. "I don't know. It's easy to do when you think about it."

"I believe in it, you know? I feel like, yeah, it can be bullshit. And yeah, it can hurt and bring people down, but I don't know... I think that it could be really worth it to love someone." She looks at the ground in a dazed expression. Her auburn hair falls over her eyes.

"You're such a corny person." I remark, and that gets her to laugh. But, to my disappointment, that also causes her to shut up. Her plump lips stay closed and her sweet voice is safe in her body, hiding from me; who would do anything for her to talk. And she lays down on her back and sighs.

And I lay back with her. Our shoulders are touching and once in a while, our hands will touch each other. We pretend that it doesn't happen, but to me, it does. It does and I fucking hate it. I hate that my heart is screaming in my chest and telling me that maybe, just maybe, I don't believe that love is shit. And I want to rip my hair out. I want to scream. I want to...I don't know. All I know is that with every sigh the fragile girl makes, my breath staggers.

And that's all is heard in the still night.

My staggered breath.

And somehow, and don't ask me how because I don't fucking know, my nervous breaths are becoming our soundtrack.

IV.

I'm not Elijah fucking Goldsworthy.

Fuck no.

I'm just the fucking idiot that fell in love with something so innocent.

Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Go ahead and laugh about how long it took me to admit my goddamn feelings. Go ahead. I dare you.

Wait. No.

I dare you to spend one day with Clare Edwards. Just one day. That's all. I dare you to not fall in love with her. I dare you to not have your skin tingle and shine with the little brush of her hand. I dare you to ignore the way her voice goes up higher when she's excited or the way she walks on her tip-toes when her smile is showing. She's something that I've never seen before.

I fell in love.

Fuck.

But I don't mind. Especially when all that's heard, is the stagger of my breath and the sounds of our hearts beating faster and faster. And I think that that will always be our theme song. It's something that we can listen to on repeat without getting tired. It's the sweet sound that I'll always treasure.

It's the little quiver of air trying desperately to escape my lungs and the organ in our bodies that keeps us very much alive.

Sorry for the language! ;)Review, please?