Okay, here it comes, the last part of Umbrella. I'm so psyched to write this, and I really hope you guys enjoy reading it!

I haven't done a disclaimer in a while, or so it feels like, so in case anyone forgot: I don't own Degrassi. Or Clare. Or Eli. Weird, right? ;)

Anyway, here goes:

I raced back and forth; shoving the stacks of my papers from the trash can back into my locker. With each trip I felt the tension in my chest ease up bit by bit, allowing me to breathe again; my world slowly assembling itself again. The bell had already rung, and the hall was empty of students, so I was left alone with my thoughts.

No wonder I hadn't told Clare about my hoarding- her knowing, as I had predicted, was a horrible disaster. I couldn't let her near my room. As much as I wanted the stuff out of there I needed it to stay in my room even more. It seemed that Clare was determined to rid my life of everything that held me together.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to center myself as I took stock of what I had returned to my locker, but my head was still buzzing from my breakdown.

"Mr. Goldsworthy," Principal Simpson approached me, Clare trailing behind him. Her eyes held fear and concern, and the moment I looked into them I realized the implications of what had just happened. Clare would never want to talk to me again. I had caused that fear in her eyes; Clare was afraid of me. "Are you okay?" Simpson asked tentatively.

I didn't know how to accurately answer that question. Was I okay? Obviously not, but I wasn't freaking out anymore which was probably the reason for his inquiry. "Everything's fine," I mumbled, adverting my eyes from Clare's face. "I just…well, it doesn't matter. It's better now. I fixed it."

Simpson eyed me skeptically. "Are you sure?"

Suddenly, I was angry again. This was none of his business, and, if I had to guess, it was Clare's fault that he was even involved at all. I didn't want to talk to him, or answer his questions. Heat rose to my face as I silently cursed Clare for bringing the principle into this. I could handle this just fine. "Positive," I spat at him. He looked shocked by the venom in my voice, and I took a deep breath. I wasn't in complete control of my emotions yet. I was still irrational, I realized. "Sorry," I mumbled after a moment, looking down at the floor.

"Eli," Simpson sounded concerned, "maybe it's best if you take the rest of the day off. I'll notify your teachers." I nodded weakly. That sounded like a good idea. I didn't trust myself around people right now- not to mention I had a lot of things to think through. So, I sifted through my locker, found my backpack, and threw it over my shoulder. "Excellent," Simpson said, gesturing to the front door, "I call your parents and let them know you're on your way home." He smiled at me, and then turned to Clare. "Thanks for informing me of this, Miss Edwards. Please get to class." He handed Clare a late slip, and walked back to his office.

Clare and I stood awkwardly in the hall for a moment. After a pause, I glared at her. "Eli," she whispered softly, confused. Clare stepped forward to place her hand on my arm, but I jerked it away. "We need to talk." She sounded hurt.

"Now's not really a good time," I told her sarcastically. Truth was though I didn't ever want to have this conversation with Clare.

"Well, just let me know when." Her voice was so calm and understanding that it made feel exactly the opposite. Why wasn't she running like crazy in the other direction? This didn't make any sense, and it was making me anxious. My head was such a jumbled mess of confusion that I couldn't form coherent thoughts any longer. So, I turned away from Clare and walked out the doors of Degrassi.

Once I was inside Morty, I quickly drove home. I parked my hearse on the curb, but I didn't dare get out because I felt myself losing it.

And just as the thought entered my mind I broke down completely. I couldn't even turn the hearse off before the tears were running down my face. How had I let myself lose control earlier? I was living a miserable excuse for a life, and I had just denied the only person in my life that ever tried to help. I cried because I didn't know what to do about Clare. I wasn't ready to clean the junk out of my life, but keeping the stuff around was never going to bring Julia back to life, either.

I just let the tears stream noiselessly down my face as I realized how dependant I had actually become on my hoarding. Somehow I had convinced myself that I could stop if need be, and that I never really needed it. How wrong I had been. I needed the junk in my locker and my room like drunks need alcohol. It was my coping mechanism, and if I quit I would be turning my life upside down.

I took a deep breath, turned Morty off, and shoved the new information out of my head. I just didn't want to think at the moment. I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, allowing myself to drift off into nothingness.

XXX

When I woke I looked around, confused. I realized that I was still in Morty, and I checked the time. I had been out for an hour, and it had started to rain.

I rubbed my eyes and stared dejectedly out into the rain. What now?

As I was thinking that, I head Morty's passenger door being opened, and my mom slipped into the hearse. It seemed so ironic that I was in a hearse now…I felt so dead inside that Morty was obnoxiously appropriate. "Oh, wow, it is coming down in buckets," my mom's cheerful voice pierced through my pity party. She adjusted herself, getting comfortable. I sensed that she wanted to talk. "You better come inside before it gets worse," she warned me. I couldn't even look at her, let alone answer. "I was thinking of making grilled tempeh for dinner," she continued, trying to get me to respond in some way. "I thought maybe you would like to call Clare, and invite her over," she suggested, trying to be sly about mentioning Clare.

I shook my head. Clare had seemed willing to figure things out when we were in the hall earlier, but she had plenty of time now to realize that she was better off without me. And I should respect that. I would just bring more trouble into her life anyway. She didn't need me. I decided to finally grace my mom with a response. "I'm not sure that would work…," I trailed off, my sarcasm weak. The pain in my voice overruled my attempt at humor.

"Are you going to tell me what happened between you two?" My mom asked getting to the real reason she had come to disturb my thoughts.

There was a lot that happened between Clare and I that I just didn't want to talk about at the moment. Reliving the details of the past twenty four hours would have been excruciating, not to mention too much had happened to fit into a simple conversation. So, I decided to stick with a truth that answered my mom's question, but gave nothing away at the same time. "Clare and I…we're, uh, we're just not going to work out." The words drove holes through my chest, leaving me empty. I wished things between Clare and I could work, but she didn't deserve the life I was living. Clare deserved real happiness. And I couldn't give her that.

"You seemed so happy with her," my mom persisted as if reading my mind.

"I was," tears sprung to my eyes again. I had been genuinely happy with Clare, but it hadn't been enough to fix me. Nothing would ever be enough to fix me, and that was the real problem here. Clare couldn't fix my problem even though she knew about it now, and her knowledge was going to rip us apart. Actually, it already had. "But now she knows the real me," I filled my mom in.

I saw my mom nod sympathetically. "Your dad told me she came over." I squeezed my eyes shut. I hadn't even thought about that. Of course, I was busy freaking out, but I couldn't believe my dad had let Clare in. He knew no one was allowed in my room. But I couldn't blame him…it was my fault my room was the way it was, after all.

I thought about my room; my own personal hell. "It sucks living like me mom," my voice came out strangled, "It's hell." I had never said the words out loud before; I was the only one who witnessed the extent of my pain. As the words escaped my mouth I deflated. I had been holding them so close to me for so long it felt weird to have them outside of me. It felt good.

"I tried to help you, baby boy," my mom defended herself. And she had, at first- she tried to send me to therapy, when everything had started out, but I refused to go. I didn't think I needed it. And eventually, after I had put up so many fights, my parents stopped fighting back. "I guess somehow we just let you get a little bit…lost," she whispered the last word. I heard the remorse in her voice. She had never wanted to let it get this far, but it had.

"Lost in my own room," I said bitterly. I wouldn't wish the life I was living on anyone- not even Fitz. It was terrible to be sucked up by sadness; having every part of you overshadowed by pain.

"It's been a long time since you lost Julia," my mom ventured, "do you ever think you could change?" She asked me.

"And what if I forget her?" I yelled back questioningly. I hadn't even thought about my response, it slipped out of my mouth without my consent. But that was my biggest fear wasn't it- forgetting about Julia. That's why I hadn't let Clare all the way in, I realized. It wasn't that I was really afraid of her turning her back on me. If Clare and I were meant to be together we could work through anything…even this. No, I hadn't let Clare all the way in because I didn't want her to wipeout Julia completely. That wasn't fair to Julia, and I had always been the one person in her life that was good to her. Forgetting Julia felt like betraying Julia.

"Oh, Eli, that stuff in your room, that's not Julia," my mom told me gently, "Julia's in here." She pointed to her heart before continued, "And she would want you to be happy."

I leaned forward on my steering wheel, considering what my mom had said. I wish I could just accept her words- to know that the stuff in my room was not Julia, and allow that to empower me to change.

The thing I didn't have to consider, though, was that Julia would want me to be happy. She always had, even when she couldn't be herself. So what did I have to do in order to be happy- genuinely, completely happy?

I turned the question over in my mind just as the rain slowed, and then crawled to a stop. The sun broke through the clouds illuminating Morty's interior. If I believed in that kind of shit, I would have said that it was an omen of the cheesiest kind. And even though I didn't believe, it still made me relax just a little more.

"Mhmm," My mom smiled at the sun. "Come on, baby, let's get you inside. Simpson called. I heard you had a long day at school. But don't worry; you have a long weekend of recuperation ahead of you." She grabbed my hand and squeezed.

I sighed, trying to clear my mind of all this controversy for just one minute. "Okay," I mumbled reluctantly, pushing myself out of the car and onto the wet pavement. I took a deep breath, allowing the thick air to surround me and fill my senses.

"I'll get you something to eat," my mother said, meeting me in the street as slinging her arm around my shoulders. I allowed myself to be pulled into the house, toward the kitchen. My mom ordered me to sit down at the table as she whipped up a quick sandwich for me. I ate it, only half paying attention to my mom's prattle about therapy, and finding help. All I really wanted to do was escape to my room and think everything over. My brain needed to process, and then come up with some solution.

As soon as I was done eating I stood, and excused myself. "Sorry, Mom," I started, "I just really need to be alone to sorts things out. Thanks for everything, though." I hoped she knew I was referring to the talk in Morty, and didn't think I was being a sarcastic bastard like I usually am.

I walked slowly to my room, removed the padlock, slipped inside, and locked the door. I took in a huge breath, and turned to face my mess.

'This stuff is not Julia,' I tried the sentence out inside my mind, 'and getting rid of it does not equate to forgetting her.'

I sounded unconvincing, weak. So, I tried saying it out loud: "This stuff is not Julia, and getting rid of it does not equate to forgetting her."

I shook my head, I sounded like a fool. But, it was a start. I walked over to my bed and didn't even bother to remove any of the crap that was perched on top. Instead, I just flung myself over it, staring at my ceiling.

I took myself back to the question I asked earlier- what did I have to do in order to be happy? Several impossible answers came to mind; all of them involving a time machine so I could bring Julia back to life.

I thought about how my life would be different if I could actually do that. For starters, I never would have developed this nasty habit. I would have never have known such excruciating pain. I wouldn't have written some of my best work. I would have never gone to Degrassi. I would have never met Adam…or Clare.

The idea of never meeting Clare took my breath away. Not knowing Clare was like not having the sun in my life. No, Clare wasn't perfect, but she completed me in ways I didn't know I was lacking. She kept me centered- she was calm and calculating, I was impulsive. She liked to follow the rules; I thought they needed to be broken every now and then. She was religious, I was an atheist. She was optimistic, I was a pessimist. Clare was caring, compassionate, and sweet. I only wished I could be those things.

As compassionate and caring as she was, why had I ever doubted the fact that she would help me if only I let her?

But would I let her? It seemed like allowing Clare to fix me was like giving up Julia completely. This had turned into some mental war of Clare versus Julia.

But Julia was dead. So why was I even having this fight in my head? I have admitted to myself several times before that I love Clare with an intensity that my emotions for Julia could never touch. It wasn't like I was settling for Clare because I couldn't have Julia. On the contrary, sometimes it seemed like Julia was supposed to die in order to eventually lead me to Clare. It's been said before: everything happens for a reason. Julia and I might have realized eventually that, even though we loved each other, we just weren't meant to spend the rest of our lives together. But that didn't necessarily mean I would have met Clare if Julia was still alive. Julia's death was like a catalyst- enabling Clare and I to meet. So, there was my answer. Clare made me genuinely happy, and if I was able to work past my problems we could be completely happy, too.

Julia's death still made me sad, and I wished she was still alive so that we could continue being friends…but that wasn't happening. And all this stuff in my room was just an unwelcome reminder that Julia lost her life.

It had come time to ask myself the hardest question of all: Was I willing to work past my problems? Was I able to put Julia to rest in my mind; let go of the idea that she could still be here. Could I stop harassing myself with hypotheticals such as 'should have', 'could have', or 'would have'? Could I let myself be truly, completely happy with Clare?

I looked around my room and I wanted nothing more than to leave; to race to Clare this very second and talk things out. I knew deep in my gut that I had found my answer: I wasn't ready just yet, but I wanted to become ready. I wanted to change. And that was enough for me to change out of my school uniform, run out of my room without even bothering to padlock it, and race over to Clare's in Morty.

XXX

Even though the ride to Clare's house was a short one I was still able to work myself up. There were so many ways my just showing up at Clare's house could be disastrous. For example, what if Clare's parents were home? I didn't think they would take too kindly to my presence considering they probably weren't over the dinner. Not to mention, now probably wasn't the best time for me to be there. They were all probably trying to work out the divorce.

Something else that terrified me was what if Clare had decided she didn't want to talk? Maybe she realized that I wasn't worth the trouble, and when she found me on her doorstep she would slam the door in my face.

As I parked Morty on Clare's curb I allowed myself to deliberate for one more second. Was I really ready to do this? I looked at the house; noticed Clare's parent's cars were nowhere to be seen. That took care of one of my fears.

I would just have to find out how the other one would resolve itself.

I climbed the few stairs that led to Clare's door, took a deep breath, and knocked. I hoped she was home- I didn't think I would have the courage to do this again if I had to come back later.

Just as I was thinking that the door slowly opened to reveal Clare in a blue top that complimented her eyes perfectly. When she registered that it was me I waited for the angry sneer to arrange itself on her face, but instead her eyes filled with concern. "Hey," she greeted me softly, "what are you doing here."

My fear disappeared as she opened the door a little wider. Instead of answering, I plowed inside. All my nervous energy was bouncing around inside me, and I didn't know if I could trust my voice; I didn't know what to say. I just walked into her living room and placed myself on the couch trying to calm my nerves even a little.

Clare closed the door, following me without hesitation. She slid onto the coffee table so she could sit directly in front of me. I couldn't look her in the eyes just yet, but I could feel her dissecting the emotions on my face- she was waiting patiently for me to explain.

I decided it was best to start at the beginning. Tell her why I was the way I was. "It started after Julia died," I told her; my voice trembled just a little, "the, uh, not throwing stuff out." Before I knew it tears had sprung to my eyes again. You'd think my tear ducts would have had enough for one day. Clare looked like she didn't know how to feel about my confession yet, but the concern never left her eyes. I decided to elaborate, give her a reason for why I had reacted the way I had this afternoon. "Every time I try to throw out something…I feel like I'm going to die. Or, or, someone else is going to- someone I love." My voice broke, and my hands, which were clasped in front of me, started to shake. I looked Clare in the eyes- I had never told anyone that. I had always allowed myself to bottle up my feeling, never daring to even write down the things like this. They were just too scary to think about, let alone make permanent record of.

But telling Clare felt good. She didn't look at me like I was crazy, like I was expecting her to; she looked at me with sympathy. She also looked relieved to finally understand what I had been hiding. This was the last wall in our relationship; the only thing that had kept us from being as close as possible, and I had just demolished it. "Have you ever heard of hoarding?" Clare asked me gently.

I had, but no one had ever diagnosed my problem out loud- not even me. I took comfort in the fact that it was Clare who was the first to know. In a way it seemed like just another connection we made drawing us closer together; making it impossible to separate us.

"Yeah," I told her, "my mom said she would take me to talk to someone- a therapist or something." The words were flowing faster now. It was as if now that I had started sharing them, they never wanted to be boxed up again. They had to be let out. I stared deep into Clare's eyes, and what I saw there only made my next words all the more true. "I want to change," I stated confidently. I really did.

Clare face grew even more tender. "That's good, Eli," she told me happily, "that's really, really good." She paused, the intensity surrounding us growing with each passing second. I was grateful that I had allowed myself to come over here and tell her. "If you need anything," she continued, "just ask me, okay?"

I exhaled, relieved. She was making this so easy for me. I would never be able to get through this with anyone else but Clare. She was just so impossibly understanding. "Here's what I want, Clare," I started, hesitant to use the word need- I didn't want to demand anything from her, "I want you to not give up on me." I was pleading her with my eyes. I had never poured my heart out like this, and it left me shaken to my core, but in the best way. I had never experienced anything like it before. "You're the only thing that makes me feel like…I could ever get better." Truer words had never been spoken.

Clare's eyes welled up with tears, touched by my words. She reached down and clasped both my large hands in her own pale, tiny ones. They were warm, soft, and best of all, comforting. She gave a gentle squeeze. "Then I guess you're stuck with me," she whispered, saying exactly what I needed to hear, "just like you said I was stuck with you." She gave me a small, loving smile before she quickly shifted herself from the coffee table to my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I felt a single tear drop fall from Clare's eyes onto my hot skin. I quickly latched onto her, wrapping my one arm around her waist, and clutching onto her shirt in between her shoulder blades. She squeezed me tight, surrounding me with love. I moved my hand from between her shoulders and grabbed onto my other arm so I could squeeze Clare as close as humanly possible. She was my safe harbor, and I never wanted to let go. I was overwhelmed with emotion.

"I'm so happy I came over to tell you about me," I whispered in her ear. "I almost didn't. I was afraid you wouldn't want to be with me anymore; that you would find me repulsive."

"I could never feel that way about you, Eli. And I'm really happy you came to talk to me, too. I was so worried about you since the locker incident earlier." I cringed, remembering, but otherwise was grateful for her words.

"So," I said, pulling away, but not letting Clare off my lap, "what now?"

Clare blushed, and opened her mouth. I paused, waiting for her to say something, but she closed her mouth again, too embarrassed to say what she was thinking.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "You know, Clare; I just took a major leap of faith, and spilled my guts just now. You can get over some embarrassment and tell me what you're thinking."

She nodded, keeping eye contact as she carefully proposed what we should do next. "I was wondering…if maybe, you know," she started flustered, "I could see your room. Without having to break in this time."

I considered it for a moment. The worst was over, and Clare had already seen my room, so it wasn't like taking her in there would have any doomsday repercussions. Still, the thought made me squirm a little. "What were you doing in there earlier, anyway?" I asked, curious.

Clare blushed deeper. "I was angry at you, and I wanted my watch back," she admitted.

I couldn't help it- I chuckled. It was hard to imagine that a silly, broken watch was the cause for all the turmoil and confusion in the last few hours. "You never cease to amaze me," I told her, kissing her on the nose. I still just couldn't believe that Clare was okay with all of this. It was like a dream come true.

"So, can we go see your room, or not?" Clare asked hesitantly.

"I believe that can be arranged," I whispered, grabbing her hand and pushing both of us off the couch. "Your parents won't mind if you go out for a few hours?"

"I'll write them a note, but I doubt they'll be back anytime soon. They're negotiating their condo." I gave her a questioning look. "Oh, good news, they are going to let me stay here after all." Clare gave me a triumphant smile.

"That's great," I smiled back. Clare quickly jotted a note to her parents, and then together we got in Morty.

"So, I have a question," Clare ventured as I pulled away from the curb.

"Ask me anything," I told her honestly. I would no longer keep secrets from Clare- it felt too good having her know everything about me.

"When you wouldn't let me spend the night…it was because of your room, right?"

She sounded so insecure, like there was actually any possibility that I had rejected her because I didn't find her attractive. "Mostly," I admitted, "but I wasn't lying to you when I said it had to do with your faith. I know I don't believe in that stuff, but you do. I wouldn't want to take advantage of your vulnerability, Clare. You would have regretted it in the morning. I know you."

"You're probably right," she said quietly, after thinking about it for a moment. "Thank you."

I parked Morty outside my house, and turned to her. "Thank you, Clare. You're being so mature and easygoing about my problem, and it means more to me than you could possibly know. You're my best friend."

A large smile broke out on her face. "And you are mine. I'm so happy to have you in my life, Eli, and nothing is going to change that."

"Promise?" I asked her, making sure she meant it.

"Promise," she assured me, then leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. "Now, let go see this room of yours."

I lead her into my house, noticing that my parents were gone. My mom must have gone with my dad to the radio station- she liked to sit in every now and then. I paused outside my door, taking a deep breath.

Clare grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "If you're not ready, we don't have to go in."

"No, I want to take you in," I said, surprised that they were true, "I just…needed a moment. This is a big step for me."

"And I'm honored you're sharing this with me; letting me in," Clare smiled up at me.

"I wouldn't do this for anyone in the world but you, Clare-bear." And with that I opened up my door, leading Clare into my hell. It was strange to have someone inhibit the mess alongside me, but it was also comforting.

I could see Clare looking around, overwhelmed, but curious. She took several minutes to absorb everything that was in there. She even crawled over to my framed picture of Julia and examined it. "She looks so sad," Clare commented softly, so softly that I was sure she hadn't meant for me to hear. Then, she turned back to face me. "So, do you want to start?"

"Start what?" I asked, confused.

"Cleaning, silly," Clare said matter-of-factly. I could feel the color drain from my face.

"Now?" I croaked.

"Yes," she replied, determined, "just as a start. We don't need to clean the whole room tonight. We could just work on a few items. I know you can do this, Eli, and I'm here to help. There's no time like the present."

I looked around me; at my world shoved to fit in one tiny space. Was I ready to start cleansing my world? Earlier I had been sure I wanted to change, but I knew I wasn't quite ready yet. But with Clare looking at me expectantly, a welcoming smile on her face, I knew I didn't have to wait. I could do this now.

"Bring it on," I told her softly, ready to dive in.

XXX

Clare had found a cardboard box, and together we had started cleaning my room. We decided to start in one corner, just throwing away enough stuff to fill the box tonight. Clare was perched on my bed, holding the box in her lap. I was anxious throwing anything away, and I put up a fight every single time. The candy bar wrapper, my old English essay from my sophomore year, a school diorama, and old camera film were just a few of the things Clare convinced me I didn't need. I had to hand it to her; she was very good at talking me out of keeping the useless junk.

I had just picked up an old, broken binder that I was unwilling to pitch. "You have new binders," Clare reminded me.

"But maybe I need another one," I argued, knowing that I didn't.

"I'm pretty sure your parents would buy one for you," Clare reasoned, bringing up another valid point. She was just what I needed. Although I was still putting up a fight, clinging onto my junk for dear life, cleaning my room no longer seemed like an impossibility. Clare would help me through it.

Still…, "Maybe someone else could use it," I offered.

"It's just stuff, Eli," Clare said, telling me, again, exactly what it was I needed to hear. I paused, reminding myself of what my mother had said earlier: the stuff in my room was not Julia. This binder wasn't her, and throwing it away wasn't going to hurt anybody. So, reluctantly, I let the binder slip into the box. This was so emotionally draining, and I was pretty sure I couldn't take anymore tonight. So I plopped down on the corner of my bed.

"Says the girl who broke into my room to get a busted watch," I joked with her. No matter how many times I poked fun at her, though, I was still extremely appreciative that Clare was here doing this with me. Of all the ways to spend a Friday night she had chosen this. It baffled me.

"If it means something keep it," Clare shrugged, defending herself.

As Clare placed the almost-full box of things on the ground, sensing I was done for the night, I looked around. Where had I put Clare's watch? She deserved to have it back since it did mean so much to her, and I wanted to show her how much all of this meant to me. I glanced in all the nearby piles of junk until I found her watch. I grabbed it, and placed it in her hand. "Then, I think you should keep this," I told her.

She looked down at the watch, smiling fondly. She didn't speak for a few moments, but when she looked back up at me, she handed back the watch. "I want you to have it," she said, emotion making her voice thick. I looked at her questioningly. Was she sure? "I need to let go of some stuff, too," she assured me, as if she had heard the thought rolling through my head. I took it back from her, loving that she still wanted me to have it.

Clare looked back down at her hands, her breath catching in her throat. I stood up, giving her a moment to compose herself, and surveyed my room. There was just so much stuff…

"This is going to take forever," I mused. Although, it would go by quickly with Clare by my side. I couldn't fathom how lucky I was to have her in my life.

"I'm here," she said, reinforcing my thoughts, "as long as you need me."

I looked over at the beautiful girl sitting on my bed. For a split second I imagined there was a God and there were miracles. Because, a god or not, Clare was my own personal miracle.

"You could work hard enough to earn a whole year of free stays at the Hotel Eli," I joked with her.

She smiled. "What is it, four stars?" she shot back playfully.

I jumped on the bed, sitting next to her. "Once it's ready," I assured her, "and you are." I added the last part softly, my insides quivering. It would be amazing if one day Clare could spend the night at the Hotel Eli without regrets.

"Maybe someday," Clare conceded, making my heart skip a beat. We locked eyes, and I leaned down toward Clare. She looked so perfect right then. Her eyes were shining and her bangs hung down, framing her face perfectly. It was amazing how much I loved her. Clare moved forward, meeting me halfway. Our lips touched, and it was nothing like any of the other kisses we had shared before. There was nothing holding us back anymore. We knew everything about the other, and it was like we were pouring our souls into that one kiss. I deepened it, letting my lips move in synchronization with Clare's just before she pulled away. Her eyes were shining so brightly.

Clare shifted, leaning her side against my legs, and placing her arm on top of my thigh. Her fingernails grazed my knee, and I placed my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to me. Our hands intertwined, and Clare head leaned against my shoulder. I leaned my head on top of hers', breathing in Clare's intoxicating scent. She looked up at me, and I saw that her eyes were reflecting back to me everything that I was feeling in the moment. Clare looked back down, smiling, dropping her head against my chest. I kissed her forehead softly.

"I love you, Clare Edwards," I told her out loud for the first time.

Clare glanced back up at me, tears springing to her eyes. "I love you, too, Eli. So, so much."

And with that I kissed Clare again…with all the love I had in my heart.

Okay, so, that was by far the most challenging piece I have ever written. There was so much conflicting emotion, and I'm not sure if I conveyed it correctly. I trust you will all tell me how I did. I hope it's right because, like I said, it was very challenging.

Also, it's opinion time! I was thinking- Halo has such cute EClare moments, so I was wondering if you guys would be interested in my writing the episodes in Eli's point of view. There is so much room for me to make up cute scenes on between, and I have lots of ideas already. But I don't want to write it if you guys don't want to read it. So, let me know, okay?

I love you all. Thanks for reading! =D