Author's Note: Helwo, fandom-I decided to write a Degrassi fic that had absolutely nothing to do with its premise but a whole lot to do with Eli and Clare. I want to let everyone know that the disease mentioned below is completely made up and the whole story is made-up. It starts a little slow but don't most stories? Please read and review!

I do NOT own Degrassi nor its characters, just this sappy story.

I remember when I woke up and met him. His hair, his face, his eyes, his slight pout when he spoke, his little breath he would take when he got nervous, his odd disposition when I looked at him, his laugh, his smile-I remember it all.

I remember when I fell asleep and dreamt about him. His skin touching mine, not overbearingly, just soft enough so that it didn't feel awkward or rushed-just right. His lip brushing up against mine and his smirk after he pulled away from me, staring at my raspberry stained cheeks.

I remember when my life begun as he filled the hole in my heart.

The day started off with its usual beginning: the sound of kids outdoors playing, the sound of birds chirping, summertime life.

But I was stuck inside, watching the world on my windowsill with a tear cascading down my cheek. I felt it's beauty from afar, wanting to be a part of it. My hair blew with the wind, and I shivered slightly at its breeze. I wish people would appreciate the things they have more often.

"Claire," my nurse, Alli Bandhari , called from the room next door. "Time for your meds."

Ah… that impervious word: meds.

I got up from my tiny cushion and walked towards her, grabbing the pill bottle she had in her hands. I nodded as a gesture of thanks and downed the pills without water. The thing about pills I love is the tickle they leave in your throat as they go down to your esophagus. It feels hard and soft at the same time; such an hypocritical feeling.

"Will you be okay for the next couple of weeks?" she asked looking at me.

"Mm.." I muttered. That meant yes.

"You are absolutely positive? You can get the mail from the mailman, use the car if you have to, do everything while I'm gone?"

"Mm!" I muttered, happily. That meant positively yes.

Alli kissed my forehead, "Be good, okay? If you can get through these weeks without me, you'll be certified to live on your own. Bye, love." And with that Alli left.

To be honest, I was quite frightened of the shock therapy my doctors were giving me. They wanted to test the waters and see if I could actually do this: be the first person with my disease to live alone, sufficiently.

I was a lucky one, the one that gave the others like me hope. I was the first person to make it past 17 successfully-I'm 19. And I'm the first one who can move around and comprehend what was going on around me. But there are setbacks, like the others, I can't speak, I can't go outdoors-only at nighttime-, and my body gets weak with too much movement. These factors pretty much confine me to my apartment.

My parents bought me apartment with all these amenities and they take care of my finances since I can't work. They have been my support system throughout the years making sure I could grow up with a semi-normal life.

Treatment after treatment and not one single name has been found for my disease. Only 1 out every 99,000,000 get this disease and it's such a rare disorder that no one can quite claim it.

"Parkinson's? Irrationality? Autism? Down-syndrome? Kidney failure? Cancer?" The doctors all speculated but since there was nothing internally wrong with me, they could never find out.

But I remember when they knew something was extremely wrong. It was when they gave me shots, the punctured skin would turn a weird shade of purple and it would sting so badly for hours after the shot. They knew my skin was extremely sensitive to something. And when I stepped out into sunlight, the purple spots would attack my skin, licking my body from head-to-toe like an infected Barney. That's when they ruled out daytime for me.

And the muteness, I've been practically mute since birth. They thought I was deaf but I can write words and phrases and they learned I could read by letting me read books and take comprehension tests in school. But the problem with writing was that my hands would shake and the pencil would seem to fall out my hands and my fingers would be bruised with that purple nightmare again. I had to do selective homeschooling so I could get my high-school diploma.

Lastly, school was ruled out for me-I couldn't focus. My body is not only sensitive to light and movement but too much sound. I get excruciating headaches from the noise. It has to be completely quiet, or relatively quiet, for me to focus.

So with this unnamed disease, I live my life. Mostly with my nurse by my side and doctors but they are testing me to see if I can function without her for awhile. Two months, eight weeks, sixty days. I can do it-I want to be able to function without her. But I'm not quite sure if I can.

Day One

"Claire," my mother said, brushing my skin lightly, "how do you feel today? Good? Bad? Indifferent?"

I nodded, "Mm…mmhm." That meant "good".

"That's great, Claire! Did you take your medicine?"

I nodded without speaking. Of course I did.

"That's wonderful, honey!" My mother crooned. The crooning was borderline obnoxious.

"Well your father and I are just down the street if you need anything. I'm so proud of you-you're going to be able to get through this trial period just fine."

I nodded, smiling without happiness. "You and dad are always just down the street, and you're always proud of me. I'm your little engine that couldn't , remember?" Was what I wished I could say but I'm kind of thankful that I'm unable to.

I dislike having so many people watching me, coming and going through my house as they please, expecting me to drop dead at any second. If I'm two years older than the estimate death time, you'd think people would back off for awhile. No, it makes them even more eager to chomp at the bit even more.

"If you can get past this period, we're thinking about enrolling you back into school. College, online. You can have a personal tutor."

My eyes lit up. School seemed interesting, especially college although I wouldn't have much of a "college experience" but it could get my mind off things. Besides, it would give me something to look forward to after the trial period.

"Do you think that sounds feasible?"

I nodded, "Mm." That meant of course.

My mother left shortly after that, leaving me to myself and the four walls of my apartment. It was weird without Alli around. Usually she would be somewhere in the house, chatting on the phone. I would soak in her voice, wishing I'd sound just like her if I could speak properly. I shrugged that off.

I slowly got up and headed to the itinerary on top of the refrigerator that listed what I was supposed to do.

Hello Claire,

This is Doctor Simpson, and Nurse Alli, writing to you.

1. If you feel strong enough, go retrieve your medicine from the cabinet. Please take it carefully.

2. Your mother is to stop by today, discuss after trial plans.

3. Retrieve mail from mailman through the mail-latch on top of the screen door. He won't give you mail if no one is on the other side of the door to open the latch so don't forget.

4. Rest and relax: look at some television and watch the world outside of your window.

5. If you feel hungry, there is some premade food for you to heat up in the fridge. If you feel strong enough to make some, please feel free.

-Simpson and Bandhari

After reading that, I felt kind of stupid. I thought my life was a lot more complicated but it seemed easy enough.

There was a knock on the door. It startled me at first. Who would be knocking-oh, right, the mailman.

As I headed to the door to grab the mail, I began to think about Alli. This must be so easy for her, grabbing the mail and walking away. It was frightening to me. The only people I ever saw were my parents and doctors so actually seeing someone from the real world is…strange.

I opened the latch, slowly. I wanted to see who was on the other side; this mysterious mail deliverer who probably came to my apartment everyday and thought Alli lived here. I shut the latch and decided to open the door. The doorknob's touch was incredibly foreign to me, its smooth metal surface, coated with a glossy feeling. It felt like metallic ice. Or, maybe because my skin was so awkward, it seemed that way. I wanted to hold to the doorknob forever but I realized I needed to get the mail so I slowly turned the handle.

For some reason, my heart raced knowing a visitor would be just on the other side. Oh, who am I kidding, it's not even going to be a real person. Watch it be some kind of mail drone who is so used to delivering mail that they won't even be astonished to see that it's another person other than Alli fetching the paper.

I opened the door fully and stared at the beautiful creature staring at me with striking features and my mail. My mouth was agape at the figure standing before me.

I hope you liked it. It's pretty weird, eh?