Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. of Twilight are the property of Stephenie Meyer. I am in no way associated with Stephenie Meyer, any creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
Some descriptions of characters that previously existed have been altered to fit the vision of this story. If you are interested in viewing the character reference photos, please view my Pinterest Board (/clairebear_04/like-breathing-but-harder/).
Author's Note: I wrote numerous fanfictions about Quil/Claire and Jacob/Nessie when I was in middle school for my little sister. They, and all my other works have since been lost, but I am excited to bring back my ideas for Quil and Claire's story. This is dedicated to other fans who likewise simped for this underrated couple.
Chapter 1: Claire
"Are you sure you don't want to come out with us?"
I had declined about a thousand times at this point, but I knew Harley would keep trying. "It's our last night on campus!"
A smirk slid across my lips as I placed my last picture frame in the box. It was a scratched, wrinkled photograph in an old, brass frame. My mom had me wrapped in her arms, my hair had been atrociously butchered by her attempt to trim it. I was maybe five, and she was still alive. I closed the box flaps and sealed it with duct tape.
"It's really ok, Harley," I smiled warmly. "I think I want to enjoy one more night here."
My room was a ravaged corpse of what it used to be when it was fully decorated. The string of Christmas lights had been taken down, along with all my pictures of faces from home. The walls now revealed the chipped, beige paint covered in dents, holes, and scuffs. The wood floors made squeaking noises no matter how quietly you tip-toed, so sneaking around was practically impossible. The white trim around the windows and door frames were scratched and discolored from lack of care over the years, and it was a miracle that any of the kitchen appliances hadn't exploded on us. The house was a typical, shitty college rental, but it had been our home for the past two years.
"Ok, well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us-"
"Kate's pub, I know," I laughed. Harley was a creature of habit, and Kate's was her absolute favorite spot in town. "Don't overdo it tonight, you have to walk in heels tomorrow," I teased. Last time Harley went out the night before something important she vomited at her sister's wedding just before going down the aisle.
She rolled her eyes while smiling. "Yes, mom," she teased. She had beautiful freckles that framed her nose, and light, brown hair that in some lights could almost have a red tint to it.
I met Harley in the dorms during my Sophomore year. She lived a few rooms down from me and would seek escape from her train wreck of a roommate by practically living in the lobby on our floor.
"I can't take it anymore, mom," I heard her cry into her phone. "She's just inconsiderate. She brought another guy in last night- yeah, a different guy this time- and he left the damn condom on the floor!" She rubbed her face with her hand. "I can't get any sleep."
When she hung up the phone, I offered her refuge in my room. "My roommate, Stacey, is never in. Her boyfriend is in one of the fraternities and she practically lives with him," I said. "We have a futon you can stay on, it's not super comfy, but it's quiet."
Harley and I have been inseparable ever since.
"You don't have to lie to me you know," Harley lingered in my doorway. "When is Quil getting here?"
I felt my face get hot with embarrassment. I shot her a look of both annoyance and 'you-got-me.'
She raised her hands. "Hey, don't let me spoil your good times with-"
"Have fun, Harley!" I yelled as she padded down the hallway to get ready.
Harley left around 7:00 later that night. Her boyfriend, Andrew, picked her up and promised me he'd have her home at a decent hour.
"Just a few, right Harley?" He chuckled. We both knew a few to her meant probably around 5 or so. She was in good hands regardless.
I pressed the buttons on the microwave to reheat my leftover pizza. Some of the button stickers had begun to peel back on the edges.
As it hummed, I checked my phone for any notifications but was met with a bare lock screen. The background was a picture taken of Quil and I, his hulking arms wrapped around me, pulling to him. Ness had taken it last summer when we all went camping.
I glanced at the clock again- 7:54. Maybe Quil got hung up on the reservation and left late. I wracked my brain for possibilities. Maybe Jacob forgot what weekend it was and had him on patrol. But there's no way, Ness had been talking about this weekend for months. What if Quil got in an accident? My heart flopped. His old, beat-up truck would be no match for a semi that didn't see it in his lane. It's only a thirty-minute drive from La Push to campus, but that wasn't enough to settle the grim thoughts racing through my mind.
The microwave beeped loudly, startling me. I realized that my heart had started pounding. God, I was such an idiot. I'm sure he's fine.
I pulled the hot plate of day-old pizza out of the microwave and set it on the counter, shoving my phone into my back pocket. I heard a knock at the front door, my head whipping around. See? There he is. I scolded myself for assuming the worst.
"Where have you been-" I said as I pulled the door open. I blinked in surprise, my heart sinking a bit.
"There she is!" Austin said, smiling widely. "Harley told me you weren't coming out tonight and I had to see it for myself."
Leave it to Harley to give away my position. "Uh, yeah, I didn't want to be sick tomorrow," I fibbed. I caught myself glancing down the street in either direction for Quil's silver truck. A girl was walking her dog heading toward the end of the street, and a couple of frat guys heading the opposite direction toward downtown.
"Well, I at least wanted to see how you were doing," he shrugged. "Are you nervous?"
"Nervous to wear heels or nervous to wear heels and walk in front of a large crowd?" I joked.
He sat down on the old, rickety porch swing. If I was being honest we should've had caution tape around it to prevent anyone above a certain mass from testing its weight capacity. "Oh, you know what I meant," he said. "Are you nervous to be out in the real world?"
I shrugged as I sat down on the porch wall, my back to the street in front of our house. "Kind of. I guess it's easier since I have all the adult-things lined up for me, right?"
When I received my acceptance letter for an entry-level position with the Child Development Center in Forks, Austin was the first to buy me a drink. He knew Harley through their classes together, and once she started to hang out with me, we became close friends. He was a great guy: always respected my boundaries, was super supportive, and even held my hair back while I puked a time or two. Harley told me that he once tried to make a move to be more than friends with her, but when she told him she didn't like him like that things weren't weird after.
He ran his hand through his blonde, shaggy hair. "Yeah, not gonna lie, that sounds pretty nice," he had yet to hear back from any of the newspapers or blogs he applied to in Seattle.
"I'm sure you'll get a job somewhere," I said. "Your writing is amazing."
That wasn't a lie. I read his capstone project, an investigative piece in the rise of anxiety-related diagnoses in our generation. He had driven all over the state to meet with psychologists, psychiatrists, childhood specialists, and other doctors to get their perspective and data to fuel his paper. It was eloquently written with explicit detail, and his grade on it was much deserved.
He sighed heavily, "Sure, but there are a bunch of people out there who are just as good. Newsrooms don't want the entry-level, fresh out of school kid, they want someone with five or more years of experience," he lamented.
"Well, someone has to give you a shot," I said. I felt guilty, I barely had to try to get my first job, and here he was, filled with insane talent, unable to find even a column position in a small newspaper. I put my hand on his shoulder, rubbing it back and forth over the matted flannel. "You'll find something," I said with a smile.
He raised an eyebrow at me. "Well at least one of us has a reason to celebrate tonight," his eyes met mine. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, flecks of brown, green, and gold intermingling with each other. "I'm really excited for you."
I let out a soft sigh and removed my hand from his shoulder. Maybe if things were different, if I had a different life, I would have dated him. We shared a love for obscure movie references, to which Harley would constantly not understand and call us 'nerds.' We saw eye-to-eye on a lot of topics, including most political or personal beliefs. But this wasn't an alternate universe, and he wasn't Quil.
"So are you going to go meet up with Harley and Andrew?" I shifted gears, glancing down the street again.
"Yeah, you can't expect me to walk on that stage tomorrow sober," he smirked.
"I would be disappointed if you were," I chuckled.
I heard the music blaring out of the open windows before I turned to see the junker truck rolling up to our curb. The old chevy squeaked to a stop alongside the road, and both the music and engine shut off in unison.
"Oh, I didn't know he was coming over tonight," Austin said as I hopped off the ledge. I felt a soreness on the back of my thighs from where the concrete had indented in my skin.
I heard the driver's side door creak open and noticed that the street lights had started to turn on, creating orange beams of light in the blackened evening. I saw Quil's hulking figure rise out of the cab, grabbing a small duffle bag from the passenger seat.
My heart fluttered lightly while I leaned against the porch pillar, watching him step into the porch light at the base of the stairs. He had recently showered, his black hair was still damp but he had run his hands through it a bit, pushing it up in the front slightly. I could smell the deep, oaky-scent of his deodorant and traces of leather. He had on a clean t-shirt, another dead giveaway that he bathed, since usually if he was coming from patrol his shirt would be covered in fur and pine needles. His jeans grasped his sculpted hips and the hem of his pants draped over the tops of his boots.
"There she is," he beamed at me and opened his arms, dropping the duffle bag at his feet.
I leaned over the three steps between us and wrapped my arms around his upper half. Before I could break away he swooped me off the top step and twirled me around. "I'm so sorry I'm late! Will you ever forgive me!?" he chuckled playfully.
"Quil!" I laughed as he spun me around once more, finally setting me down on the ground, dizzy from the bear hug. He brushed a few strands of loose hair from my face and placed a kiss on my forehead.
"Hi, baby," he murmured against me.
I pressed my cheek against his rock of a torso, feeling his warmth emanating from under his shirt.
"Sorry," I heard Austin behind me on the porch. "I was just leaving," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "Just wanted to see if Claire was going to come out with us, but clearly she had plans already."
Quil broke our hug and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side. "Oh? You don't want to go?" He looked down at me.
Internally I cringed. No, no no- I grit my teeth. "I didn't want to be hungover tomorrow," I lied to him. Please, Quil, I pleaded in my head.
As if he heard every word in my head, Quil nodded, knowingly. "Yeah, that's probably smart- I still can't get the smell of tacos and vomit out of my truck from last time I picked you and Harley up from Kate's," he cringed.
Austin brought his lips together and nodded his head. He'd been put through the wringer multiple times watching over Harley and me downtown. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us," Austin said, giving me a side-smile as he shoved his hands in his pockets.
My eyes followed him as his figure moved in and out of the street lights, heading up the road towards town.