December 31, 1899

As Clara pulled back the shower curtain of the bathtub, a trail of curse words came streaming out of her mouth similar to the water that was currently pouring out of the sink faucet. She must have left it on when she hopped in the shower, creating an ocean of a flooded bathroom. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid me. She reminded herself as she stepped out, cold and clammy and without a towel. Turning off the running faucet, Clara despondently stared at the water rings that formed around her planted feet, enlarging until they disappeared. Tonight was supposed to be special, memorable, anything but flood free.

Grabbing a white towel from the rack, she shakily laid it out onto the bathroom floor, its fabric absorbing the water immediately, it sinking below the surface like a sinking ship of disappointment. Remembering that she was supposed to use that towel on herself, she sighed into her hands as small drips of water fell from the tips of her hair, tracing paths atop of her skin. God, do not cry.

A small knock on the door sent her head snapping upwards at an instant. "Clara?" a soothing voice called out from the other side. "Clara, are you alright? Why...why is there water leaking out from underneath the door?"

Raking her soaking hair with her fingers, Clara panicked as she quickly searched the room for something to throw on. She finally settled upon a nightgown that she wore days ago from the laundry hamper, in spite of the cabbage and sweat smell, it was the best thing she had to clothes. Sitting on top of the toilet, she snatched the toilet paper from its respective hook and tried desperately to soak up the water with that. But it was like trying to slurp up a river with a teaspoon. "Clara..." His voice again. "Please let me in."

"It's open!" she almost screamed in aggravation, kicking her feet like a child. There was a slight silence at the other end, the door then opening to reveal a twenty-three year old lanky figure in the threshold. "John, John...I'm so sorry." Clara tried to apologize without choking on a sob, for his bathroom was entirely soaked. It was his flat after all, she had nothing if it weren't for him. "I-I don't know exactly what happened, I mean the overwhelming thought of paying the rent is...it's really hard to digest, and I guess I wasn't paying attention, and-"

"Clara, Clara, Clara..." John's reassuring way he said her name gave her a little spark of hope that he wasn't entirely angry at her. Making his way across the water, he reached his hand out to her, and she took it a little too soon it made her feel selfish. "You could flood a hundred bathrooms and I still wouldn't get mad at you..." he admitted with a laugh, and she couldn't help but smile back at him. She had started living with John last year; she was only nineteen and he was twenty-three. "And it's okay if this room smells a bit moldy for the next few weeks?"

"That's entirely okay with me." he flashed one of his 'grateful-that-you're-here' smiles, and Clara merely scoffed in reply. That smile was thankful for her cleaning and mediocre cooking, which was better than anything he could do himself. John was like a carnival ride, when she met him he was dead mysterious to her, a boy who was arrogant in his own self-pity. But when his awkward antic persona had shown, Clara wondered whether she was seeing the same man. He was gracious enough to offer half of his flat when her father moved for business, and it was more than she had ever hoped for. Clara shook her head. "I love you."

"I love you too." he replied, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Come on, I have something to show you."

Clara's eyes widened. "Have you even realized that boats could now travel our little bathroom ocean?" She stated flatly, hugging her knees to her chest. John only looked around, brow furrowing, as if to contemplate if it were really important or not. "Eh, the water will still be there when we get back." he concluded, and picking up Clara from her seat, he carried her to the living room, which was now lit with candles in celebration of the coming New Year. But that wasn't his main focal point. "Look honey, I cleaned!" he exclaimed proudly, grinning from ear to ear.

She could never have been more proud. "John, thank you, it's amazing." she said, her words sounding over exaggerated, her not caring at the same time. Placing her back on her feet, John picked up two flute glasses filled with champagne and handed one to her. Raising her eyebrows with a coy smile, Clara took the beverage just as he said, "And look, its almost midnight!"

Sure enough, it was. Atop of the coffee table sat a tiny mechanical clock that indicated that it was two minutes till the New Year, and just then was when Clara reminded herself of her resolutions. This year, I'm going to crawl out of my debt. I'm going to find another job. I'm going to clean up that damn flooded bathroom.

I'm going to become a prima and star in my own ballet.

She knew she was fantasizing, but dreams were dreams, and she was intent on making all of them a reality. And as the two counted down until twelve midnight, they both exclaimed in merriment as they clicked and drained both their glasses. Clara also made a promise to herself that she would make all of these dreams come true. "Happy New Year, John." she said.

He smiled back at her, a smile that she couldn't describe with her own words. "Happy New Year, Clara."

A/N: Okay, I lied. I actually don't know how many chapters this story's gonna be! Maybe fifteen, maybe twenty, we'll see...