As I'm uploading this, I'm totally past curfew on a school night. I'm probably going to regret it in the morning lol.

I re-wrote this chapter so many, many times, so that's why it took so long to finish. I'm sorry for the wait, but it's here now, at the very least. :)I really hope there aren't any horrible grammar mistakes, because I edited my heart out on this thing.

Pop me a review if there's a part in particular you like, okay? Okay. Promise? :)

Enjoyyyyy!

Don't go out on your own.

Of all the things he could have said…he said that. What the hell did that even mean, don't go out on your own? Obviously he knew what he meant, but did Clare? Probably not.

Eli winced, replaying the scene over and over again in his head. If she was confused, she didn't show it. Her expression had been nearly unreadable- even for an expert expression reader like himself, he didn't have a clue what was going on in that head of hers. All while keeping this relationship strictly platonic-after all, he only felt it responsible for protecting her virtue; it didn't stretch further than that- he really hoped he hadn't freaked her out too much, showing up randomly at the vacant parking spot she was walking across and offering her a ride home. Not to mention, insisting that she put on a jacket he conveniently had sitting in his back seat all while driving her to said home he already knew the address of. All the fucking awards to Eli Goldsworthy, for being the much cryptic creeper of all time, he thought grimly. Oh well. He was doing her a favour, anyways. She shouldn't be judging him too hard.

And obviously, that was what Eli thought. That's him, easy, breezy, beautiful. Cover girl. Nonchalant and easy-going. Yep.

He had given Dallas a month, tops. Two weeks because he knew that was the longest he'd ever been interested in a girl, plus another two weeks because Eli had expressed an unexplained concern for her. He was going to try harder on Clare to deliberately provoke him; he knew that was a given. All Eli had to do was to keep Clare in his range of vision until then, and if any trouble should arise, he'd be there to stop it. To let this interest of him die down, he'd have to resist getting into any fights with Dallas- probably the hardest part. The mere thought of him making advances on a girl whom he watched grow up with bubbles and dollies was super sickening. Surely Dallas wasn't a straight-out rapist. He was more of a persuading, sweet-talker with all the wrong intentions. If only it was morally acceptable to punch someone for having the wrong intentions, he would have gotten away with accidently letting his fist 'slip' when Dallas was around…

Eli burrowed his head deeper beneath his fluffy pillow.

Then there was the matter even more complicated than that: after Dallas finds some other girl to pick on, would he still be obligated to hang around her? Eli wasn't trying to be Clare's friend on anything, because that would mean getting involved, and ultimately making a big mess out of things. His life has been a series of messes; he didn't need another. He would prefer to keep his distance from her, and so maybe after the threat has dwindled down he could slowly start isolating himself. Let her down easy. And if she were to ever ask, he could say that they were just not meant to be friends, and that maybe it would be best to let it be. He looked forward to minding his own business again.

There was also that tiny little matter of it hurt to be around her.

He twisted around again, breathing deeply against the fabric of his pillow cover. For one wild moment he thought it smelled like Clare, floral and light and all.

Honestly, he thought he did a pretty good job of hiding it. Hollow numbness was easy to manipulate if you knew how- a heavy heart wasn't. He remembered feeling the latter for the majority of the ride, and how much he had to concentrate on distracting himself. How much he missed her, and how poignant it was to be around her again. Because Clare, in addition to being his very first bestie and the only person in the world he cared about, was a living, breathing reminder of all the feelings he no longer had the privilege to feel. It reminded him a lot of the Harry Potter movie she made them watch some years back, when Harry looked into the Mirror of Erised for the first time. Mom? Dad? You see their smile and their healthy faces, but you couldn't touch them. You held them in your little hands for the briefest moment, way before you knew how to appreciate and savour, and then they dart away before you know it. Something happens, and they've been ripped away from you.

These things change you, and it won't ever be the same again.

He whipped his pillow across the room, pushed away his covers, and rested his hand on his bare stomach. He inhaled sharp, running his fingers across his torso. His rib cage was painfully protruding, and he was paler and sallower than he'd ever been in his life. Deep purple rings were permanently etched under his eyes. This was why moms urge their children to ear and why dads tell them their broccoli will make them big and strong- and Eli was a perfect exhibition of what could happen.

A smile then crackled across his face as he remembered one particularly humorous moment with Clare shortly after they first met.

"That kid is so fat," he said bluntly, jabbing his finger towards a chubby boy bouncing past them. He pumped his pudgy little fists up in the air, completely out of sync with the music playing in the background. All the other kids twirled and skipped around, wriggling their pint-sized body around with no regards to the beat of the music. Jenna Middleton bounded around faster than anyone else, determined to show off how great of a dancer she was.

"Eli!" Clare scolded, putting her hands on her hips and frowning. Eli mimicked her, frown and all.

"Clare," he mocked. "Why are you looking at me like that? I mean, it's pretty darn obvious…"

"God just made Mo like that," she shook her head disapprovingly. "Just like He made you and me."

"Then why don't we look like that?" Eli asked, keenly watching the plump boy dance about. He never was a fan of freeze dance during music time, but it was always so fun to mock the other kids. "Look, he's even jiggling!" he exclaimed, pointing at him.

"Stop it," she said, taking his wrist and turning him towards her. She held both his bands, trying to get him to dance, but Eli just stared at her."My dad says that well-fed kids are well-loved."

"Um, Clare? I don't think two people can love that much," he snickered, letting his arms fall limp under Clare's control. He twirled her around, enjoying the tickle on his forearm when her curls skimmed past his skin. "Does that mean my parents hate me, then?"

Clare's look of disapproval wavered. She bit her lip. "It's just a saying, you know."

"I know that," he said firmly. "But it's true."

"But look at me, Eli," she said, poking her tummy. "What does this mean?"

Eli leaned forward, examining her with an air of professionalism. Fatness was difficult to analyze with the loose-fitting blouse Clare was wearing.

"Let me see," he poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, and patted her belly a couple of times. She giggled. "I think you're in the middle. But I know your mom and dad love you, so that doesn't count."

"See, it's not always right," she pointed out. "I-"

But just then, Mo had tripped over his own feet and came tumbling over to where the two were standing. Unfortunately for them, Eli was still bent over and peering at Clare's tummy, so when the collision hit, his face was mashed into her belly and they were sent flying.

"Oof!"

"Ouchie!"

"Eli, get-off!" Clare gasped, trying to push herself up. Her arms shook like jelly, and she collapsed under the pressure of the two boys on top of her.

"Can't- Mo!" he huffed, trying to shake off the larger boy. It took a while, but he finally rolled off into a puddle of sweat and heat.

"Sorry," Mo mumbled breathily.

"I think my arm is dislocated," Eli said, wincing as he held his shoulder. Clare continued to lie on the ground.

"How do you know what dislocated means?" Ms. Paisley asked, surprised as she tended to Mo's minor injuries.

Eli looked insulted.

"I'm pretty sure that was God reminding you to be nice," Clare groaned, lifting her head up to speak, before dropping it back down again.

It took him a while to realize that his stomach was shaking so hard out of silent laughter, his ribs were aching. He learned his lesson, though. Don't call people fat. He had an excellent time watching Clare face-palm and groan.

For a second, he considered scouring through the box underneath his bed again. Just for good time's sake. But it wasn't long before the wave of grief came pouring in, making him feel like his body was sinking into the mattress. His smile faded, and he shut his eyes for a long time.

He really missed being Clare's best friend.

-x—

Left foot, right foot, left foot, over the crack. Hop over it not because it might break Randall's back, but because he was at work and so was her mother and Clare was forced to walk alone in the slushy snow to get to school. Walking was so dreadfully boring, and she only liked to watch the sky gradually lighten up. She liked squinting at the tiny white moon that could still be seen up above and bringing her thumb up next to it. No matter where you are in the world, the moon is never bigger than the size of your thumb. Clare also liked to think that somewhere in the world someone was doing the same thing, because that made her feel less alone in a place of un-fantastical dreams and no-one-has-time-for-bullshit-like-that –ness. It was only a special place she manifested in her head that even the most trivial things have meaning.

She realized that she had been standing in the middle of the sidewalk and staring at the sky for so long, people passing by in cars were looking at her like they would look at a lunatic. Middle-aged women, grumpy old mean alike stared at Clare like she was a show. Strange kid.

With a heaving sigh, she bowed her head and continued to trudge along. Maybe today would be a good day. Maybe something amazing would finally happen.

And maybe, she was just a strange kid because there was no one else to be strange with her. Once upon a time, there was someone, but he died.

-x—

Eli rolled into the parking lot with one hand on the steering wheel, not bothering to honk at students littering the lot. His face didn't even change when they all yelped and hurried away from the front of his car, clutching their chests as if Eli had actually planned on hitting them. He just swerved in and climbed out, neglecting to lock the old piece of junk as he strode off. Nobody would want to steal a beat-up, antique hearse anyway.

Twirling his car keys around his finger, he could see people staring indiscreetly at him through his peripheral vision. People giving odd looks and people giving frightened looks. There were people sneering and people who hadn't even noticed him altogether. Then there was Dallas and his teammates, blocking the front entrance because they could, and no one could stop them. Eli wasn't really on speaking terms with any of them at the moment, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking.

"Clare! Oh, excuse me-"

A long mane of black hair barreled past him so quickly, he didn't have time to dodge. She whipped past him at the speed of light, running towards the red-nosed girl who had just arrived.

"Clare, I've been looking for you all over the place!" he heard her cry. "Where have you been?"

Eli craned his neck around, unabashedly eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Oh, hi Ali," Clare said, smiling breathlessly at her. It was the first time he had seen her smile, and in that instant he knew she had it.

There was an observation he made, and it didn't him long to realize that it was applicable to Clare. Her smile- it was the precious kind. The kind that made your stomach bubble warmly and made you feel like you accomplished something. Some people had it, sometimes because they smiled so rarely, and sometimes because the genuineness they emitted was so palpable. His eyes fixated upon the curve of her pink lips, which were accompanied by a lovely pink flush painted across her cheeks. There was none of that fake blush thing going on there- nothing but pureness and innocence. And despite the brittle temperature, she looked well and glowy. She exuded a sense of wholesomeness and healthiness that could help but rub off of him a little. It wasn't infatuation, it was a fact.

He smiled a little-a smile so slight, you wouldn't be able to see it in a passing- and looked down at his feet, shuffling from side to side.

"-not fun," Ali continued. "I only live fifteen minutes away- I don't know how to manage to walk for twenty-five.

Clare shrugged. "I didn't really have a choice."

"You walked today?"

The two girls snapped their heads up in unison, zeroing in on him. Ali's expression was confused; Clare looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Alone?" He couldn't help himself.

"Is that so weird?" Ali raised her eyebrow, eyeing him critically. "Clare always walks to school."

"Well, she shouldn't," he said shortly.

"Well, she has to. Why does it bother you so much?"

Eli narrowed his eyes at her. He didn't appreciate her input.

"Do you mind?" he asked acerbically.

"I do, in fact, mind. Considering you so rudely interrupted our conversation-"

"I'm not asking you," he said impatiently, causing the irritated girl to put her hands on her hips. "Can you leave for a minute, I mean."

"Eli, stop being so rude," Clare spoke up for the first time, giving him a look that made the piece of thread he was pinching from inside his pocket to snap off. "Please."

He clenched his teeth together, looking thoroughly annoyed, but all she did was arch an eyebrow. And what a powerful eyebrow arch that was.

"Fine," he muttered, rolling his eyes. Whipped.

"Well, I guess I'll head to my locker now," Ali smirked, pleased at the way Clare had tamed him. "I'll talk to you at lunch, okay?"

"Bye," she waved, nodding briefly at her. Clare's hand was mittened, he noticed. They were red and woolly, and they looked incredibly warm. How cute.

"She was quite rude, you know," he said childishly, glowering a bit.

For such a small person, Clare had a staggering amount of power of him. It was kind of annoying, being pushed around for the first time, but she didn't seem to realize how effective her simple body motions were. She seemed legitimately irked by him.

But then something unexpected happened, and she burst into giggles. Eli's scowl dropped and he stared, bewildered. Having a girl suddenly start laughing at his presence kind of put him off, because it was just about the last reaction he could ever expect.

"Sorry," she giggled, covering her face to muffle the sounds. "Sorry, sorry!"

Umm. This was awkward. Was this a regular thing with her? He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, so he settled on gawking at her.

"What?" he asked self-consciously.

"It's just- I didn't expect you to actually listen to me," she grinned, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Taken aback, Eli's jaws dropped slightly before he regained his composure. He felt as if he had gotten played, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. It was a lot of uncertainty in one moment, he realized, but the impish smile on her face that displayed her one dimple was simply too rich to ignore. A tiny dent on her cheek, and it was nostalgic. It distracted him, and it stopped him from forming a snarky retort.

"Why do you look at me like that?" she asked suddenly, cocking her head to the side.

"Like what?"

"Like you're perusing me. Why do you do that?"

"I….I don't know what you're talking about," he said, averting his gaze. Clare opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "You're dragging this out longer than it should be. I just wanted to know why you decided to walk alone when it's still dark at seven thirty."

She pursed her lips together, taking in his cutting tone. "My parents are at work."

"Can't anyone else drive you?"

She shook her head.

"Can you bus?"

"It wouldn't be reasonable for me to bus here I live. Why does it matter?"

It mattered because of reasons she didn't know.

It mattered because it wasn't prudent to be out in the open, so vulnerable when anyone could swoop in and take advantage of her.

It mattered because even thought she was unaware of the situation he had gotten her in, he couldn't afford to risk it. For the sake of his conscience, it mattered.

"It just does," he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. Because you're defenceless and innocent and when I see you walking from the distance, you look so vulnerable.

"Okaaay," she drawled, in a way that made her sound unconvinced. She pinched her eyebrows together in confused suspicion. "So tell me again why it matters?"

"Can you stop being difficult and just listen?" he snapped, glaring. She shrank back, finger flying to her teeth. She gnawed on her finger nail, making it very apparent that the venom in his tone had stung her a bit.

"Listening," she said quietly.

"I'll…I'll drive you for now on," he said tightly. "I'll swing by at around eight-fifteen starting tomorrow."

Her eyes widened. "That's not necessary."

"I'll wait outside the library for you after school. Don't be late."

"But…" she stammered.

He turned on his heel and left, and didn't look back.

-x—

In business class, Luke kept trying to catch Clare's eyes. It was unfortunate that in her peripheral vision she saw more of his face than the side of his head, as it was very distracting. She really wished he would stop; it was growing tiresome, having to be making excuses of why they couldn't spend time together outside of class. He was unintentionally persistent, and while she'd rather him get discouraged and let go of the false hope on his own, she knew that wouldn't happen. Luke was intelligent, but boy was he dense.

"Yes?" she whispered to him, keeping her eyes on the board.

"What? Oh, nothing," he whispered back loudly.

"If you have something to say, go right out and say it," she pressed, clasping her hands together in a professional manner. She did not look at him fondly, or spare him the benefit of the doubt. Clare felt a bit guilty about behaving so coldly towards him, but because he was so thick, her guilt wasn't enough to have an impact of her attitude. She could be in a relationship, for Heaven's sake, and he wouldn't get the hint. Likewise, she could drop a bomb on his head and he wouldn't regard it as a hostile action. Rather, he probably would mistake it as a sign of affection.

"I'll tell you later," he murmured.

She'd bet anyone anything that he was going to make another attempt. She'd also be more than happy to lose that bet.

"Luke," Clare began, as their teacher left the room. "You know how we're good friends?"

He nodded, giving her his full undivided attention. She'd have to be slightly less subtle than that to get her point across.

"I think it's time to address the elephant in the room," she said, carefully watching him.

Luke stared at her, uncomprehending. "Huh?"

"You know," she said evasively, rocking from side to side. "The…like the…I don't like you in that way, okay? I just want to be your friend, that's it."

"Like me in what way?" he inquired confusedly.

Oh dear God. "In the way that I perceive you do," she uncomfortably tried to explain. He continued to gawk. "I don't… Luke, I don't want to go out with you."

It took him one excruciating minute, but he eventually understood. Clare held her breath as that initial flicker reached his eyes, traveling down to his mouth which curved into a slight frown, and then to his merged brows. She could almost hear the realization spinning wheels in his head, finally sinking in after one incredibly long moment of silence.

"Oh. Okay."

He smiled and returned to his work, flipping open his textbook. The sudden movement caused her tendrils to dance a bit from the breeze, and it was almost like a slap in the face. She waited for him to say something else, but he didn't, and acted as if nothing happened.

"Okay," she repeated uncertainly, turning towards her own textbook. This wasn't what she anticipated, but that was fine, she supposed. She couldn't understand how he was so okay with it though, considering he had been abysmally obvious about his feelings for her. Had she been reading him wrong the entire time, or was he just that good of an actor?

She had to be wrong. He couldn't be that good of an actor.

"I think that will be it," Perino announced, glancing at his watch. "Put up your chairs and have a good one, alright?"

Clare obliged, granting Luke one quick smile before rushing out the door to her next class. The last period was fast-approaching, and home time came subsequently after. Concentrating would be hard in her favourite class because of what was to come. Truthfully, Eli hadn't completely erased from her mind since the beginning on the day, and she was still wondering whether she should listen to him. The boy was so painfully cryptic and unpredictable, she couldn't stomach it. The thought of what he would do if she didn't show up made her shiver. During lunch, Ali had even shuddered upon his appearance, more so than she did in regards to his behaviour. In her head, the eyeliner and all-black attire was far more alarming anything than what he'd do or what came out of his mouth. Clare begged to differ.

As she had expected, English consisted of nothing but a drifting mind and impatient fidgeting. Clare was so distracted, she couldn't focus on the words coming out of Dawes's mouth. For a few minutes, they would just barely process, and before she realized it was three o'clock. Everyone was filing out of the room, leaving Clare with no choice but to gather her stuff and follow behind.

Soon she was faced with the choice of going left, or straight ahead. Straight ahead would take her to the front doors, where she's assumingly proceed to walk home. On her left was the way to the library. She moved automatically towards her destination.

When she arrived, he appeared to be in a disagreement with a guy- his face was hardened with pertinacity, despite the other guy's seeming worried expression. His jaw was set like stone, unmovable and unaffected by countless protests. Clare considered moving closer in a stealthy manner to pick up what they were discussing, but he caught her before she reached even four feet of him.

"But Eli," the guy said apprehensively, "he's really stubborn about this. He's determined to-"

"Shut up," Eli hissed, gaze flickering towards Clare, who felt like she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. The guy he was talking to turned around, welcoming her with enlarged eyes.

"Oh! Hi, Rachel!" he said, looking like he was caught doing something sordid. "Didn't see you there."

Clare wrinkled her eyebrows, twisting around to look behind her. Seeing that the hallway was empty, she turned back and tilted her head to the side. "Who's Rachel?"

Eli snorted as the guy cleared his throat anxiously. "It's- who are you again?"

"Not Rachel," she blurted, causing Eli to stifle a snicker. She squinted at him as he raised his fist to his mouth, feigning a subtle cough. "It's Clare. And you are?"

"No one important," Eli cut in, lips still twitching. He stepped in front of the stranger guy, blocking her view of him. "Come on, Clare, let's go."

"I'm important," the guy mumbled in an offended voice. "I- hey, where are you guys going?"

"Home," Eli answered simply.

"Our home, or her home?" the guy called back to clarify, but Eli ignored him.

"He lives with you?" Clare inquired curiously, gripping the stair railing and she made her way down. Eli had to stop quite a bit behind her, and it made her wonder if he was used to going down faster. He probably did, but he didn't say anything.

"Mhmm." His hands found their way to his pockets again.

She waited for more, but he didn't continue. They walked out through the back in silence, Eli leading. She made an observation about this, how he would only walk in front of her or behind her. Never to her side, and always keeping the distance between them respective. Clare watched his boot-clad feet as they crunched the snow beneath like it was sandpaper. Every move is swift and without stuttering or hesitation, like he didn't have to think twice about it. She studied him like she would study a work of art, mostly because she could get away with it. He never turned back once to look at her.

"Do you mind if we take a short detour to the gas station?" he said, peering at his meter as he jammed his keys in the ignition. The little red arrow was dangerously close to the E. "It won't take long."

Clare shook her head. From the rear view mirror, she could see that the jacket she borrowed last time was still there. It was perched on one of the seats, looking warm and inviting.

"You can go get it," he said.

Sometimes, it was scary how intuitive he was.

"It smells like…musk in here," she said musingly, sniffing the air when his jacket was finally rested comfortably on her. "It smells kind of like you."

He pressed his lips together. "I have a smell?"

"Mhm- hmm. You smell like musky cinnamon, like in the woods."

"How nice. I always wanted to smell like a tree."

"Obviously you never smelled a tree before, mister. Or you're not the outdoorsy type. Either way, I'm judging you harshly."

"Oh, silly me for not going around sniffing trees," he smirked, showing some level of interest to what she has to say. "Call the police, will you?"

Clare repressed a smile, only allowing a small curve to form on her lips. From the side, his smirk looked kind of crooked and impish, like he was moderately enjoying their banter. He seemed pleased with her ability to conjure up witty responses, as his sarcasm gave her both half- amusement and an urge to roll her eyes.

"You have a floral scent, did you know?" he said thoughtfully, pulling into a spot. "You remind me of the garden in front of my old house."

Oh, and what a lovely garden it was, having been completely filled with a brilliant assortment of colours and textures. His mothered used to be religious about watering them in a specific way- thumb over the hose, always! Eli would sometimes mock her by holding red licorice in that way, pretending to spray the ground with the same stiff posture Mrs. Goldsworthy had when she watered. He would stick out his bum and place a sassy hand on his hip, imitating to perfection.

It shouldn't be something that comes as a surprise to her, how different everything was now, but it does. It strikes her hard every time. And as she looked at him for the umpteenth time, it was like seeing a new person every time. There was sarcastic Eli, callous Eli, snarky Eli, enigmatic Eli, and even remorseful Eli. But where was goofy Eli? Where was the Eli would made her laugh and sing on her worst days? Her Eli had yet to make an appearance yet, and until then, she wouldn't be one hundred percent comfortable with him.

Clare couldn't just sit around and wait for him to come out anymore.

"Eli, what happened to you?" she asked quietly, before even thinking about the consequences. She shook her head, gazing down at her lap. "How did things turn out this way?"

"What are you talking about, Clare?" he asked softly, still staring ahead.

It was simple. "You turned cold."

And from there, all the valves opened up and everything she had been holding back (yes, there was more!) came pouring out like water out of a broken dam. It was everything she meant to say, if her anger and frustration hadn't gotten the best out of her on the very first day. This was the real stuff. Beneath the anger of betrayal was something else, something far more important,

"Everything about you is broken. The way you talk, the way you even joke…it's like something died inside of you, and it scares me, Eli," she exhaled, closing her eyes.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

But he knew, oh, he knew. Clare was certain he knew.

"You're lying. I can see it in your eyes. "And at this, Eli turned to face his window, sitting in stoic silence. "I'm not mad anymore, if you care. I'm hurt and confused and hurt in a way that won't blow over in a few weeks. I don't know how much more obvious I can make that. Please, talk to me, tell me what went wrong why you're so horribly grim in everything you do. I know I haven't been there for you for the longest time, and I still…still care about you because you were my best friends, and that won't change. Even if you're broken and dead or aged and wrinkly I still want to be there for you, and I can't act like I don't any longer. Just...tell me. Tell me why you left me. Tell me that it was for a good reason."

"I can't," he said bleakly. "I can't, Clare, I'm sorry."

Swallowing through the impossible constriction in her throat, she shook her head. "You can. Please…you can."

She reached over and touched his hand, letting herself know that it was okay that he cringed and pulled away. "Please," she breathed, grasping his fingers more firmly. They were limp and lifeless, urging her to hold them more tightly against her skin. He resisted, not because she was poison, but because he was scared. By the way his shoulders quaked, flinching away from her, he made it seem like he was afraid of damage her.

"No, stop, I can't," he said weakly, gazing at their entwined hands with clouded eyes. "Clare, no."

But she just held onto him more firmly, clutching him with both her hands. He yanked away, an apologetic look in his misty green eyes.

"Fine," she said resolutely, undoing her seatbelt. And so Eli thought- hoped, even- that she was going to leave him. He hoped that she would let him dwell on matters on his own. It was false hope, though, from the moment she bent down and started to roll up her pant leg.

"What are you doing?" he asked, fixated on what she was doing.

"It's too tight," she frowned, rolling it back down when it would not budge any further. Eli frowned as well. "Maybe… could you turn around for a moment, please?"

He obeyed without a thought, now deeply curious as to what she was doing. There were some swishing sounds, the sound of a button popping open and a zipper sliding down, He gulped, stomach twisting horribly at what he immediately thought of. She couldn't be doing what he was thinking.

"Look," she said after a short while, and he turned around to legs. Pale, creamy, legs from the knee down, and pants pooled around her ankle. Her lap was covered with his jacket, which was securely tucked under her for reassurance. My jacket.

His first instinct was to look away out of respect for her, because even thought it was only her calves exposed to him, it felt very intimate. He had never seen so much bare skin of hers in this way, and so it took some effort to listen to follow her command. Once he did, however, he couldn't look away.

"Look at this," she said gingerly, running a finger over a faint line. It was a very faded scar that seemed to have been created by one quick, swift movement. "You did this."

His jaws dropped. "When?"

She smiled ruefully. "When you yanked my notebook out from under me."

And he did that the first day they met. He remembered everything, from dragging her under the carpet, to Imogen's rude accusation- everything. He defended her that day, and he never then stop. He remembered feeling like it was his job to protect Clare in any given moment, whether it was when a potential threat arose, or when she merely needed someone to play with. He was there for her, just like she had always been there for her.

So why couldn't it be that way again?

"Things have changed. Doesn't mean it has to stay changed." She said gently, taking his fingers and guiding him along the length of her scar. He held his breath, letting his heart skip a couple beats as Clare let go of him, allowing him to stroke the mark he left on his own. It was smooth, lighter than it had been before and barely noticeable, but it didn't change the fact that it was still there and would always be.

And like she said, things can fade. But it doesn't mean they've completely disappeared.

"Okay," he whispered feebly, a voice that was barely audible. "But one step at a time, okay?"

She nodded and squeezed his hand. It was a start.