Hey guys, haven't updated this for a while but inspiration struck when I finally watched The Fault In Our Stars yesterday! :D It's amazing! Anyway, I hope you like this and I hope it makes you smile :) If you have the time, please leave a review to let me know what you think and if I should continue with this :) thanks!
The Doctor stiffened at the sound of hushed whimpers and stifled sobs emitting from a room not far down the corridor of the Tardis.
"Clara," The alien gasped, immediately rushing to her aid to see what was the matter.
He threw open the door to find his small companion curled up in a plush armchair, choked breaths coming from her every few seconds. Her eyes were red and raw, a sure sign that she had been crying. The Doctor approached cautiously, his eyes falling on the book in his quivering hands, the book she had been non-stop reading fro days now, refusing to go on any more adventures before she finished it: The Fault In Our Stars.
The Doctor hadn't read it before. He didn't see what the big deal was.
"Clara," He began slowly, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Have you been crying? Your eyes are all red."
"My eyes?" Clara looked up from her book, a slightly manic look in her eyes as she blinked back tears. "Oh, they're good. They're not in my head, that's the only problem."
"What?" The Doctor said as Clara left the room.
He found her in the kitchen a few hours later, led there by the aroma of thick black smoke that was currently gushing from the oven all the way down to the control room.
"Clara!" He yelled, throwing a pitcher full of water over the startled girl as she frowned at the burnt souffle in her hands, quenching the flames rising from the pastry.
"Doctor!" Clara exclaimed, rushing to the counter where her book was set. "You could've got my book wet, you idiot!"
"Clara," the Doctor sighed heavily, looking at the mess around them. "Another soufflé, really? What were you thinking?!"
"My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations," Clara whispered, clutching her book to her chest and running from the room, leaving a bewildered Doctor to clear up the mess.
"What?" He said again.
The next time he found her, she was curled up in a ball on her bed, tears streaming down her face as she mumbled something about August.
"Clara, it's May... But I can take us to somewhere where it's August if you like," The Doctor piped up hopefully, patting her back comfortingly.
"You don't understand!" Clara sobbed. "I'm finished the book!"
"Well..." The Doctor frowned. For once, he was completely at a loss for what to do. "Clara... It's just a book."
Clara stopped sobbing. For a moment, the Doctor wasn't quite sure if she was even breathing.
"Just a book?" She muttered threateningly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just a book?!"
The Doctor leapt up from the bed in fear as Clara yelled at him, a murderous look in her eyes.
"You're almost as bad as Peter Van Houten!"
The Doctor escaped from the room, a pillow whizzing past his head as he caught his breath.
"What?"
He made a mental note not to question Clara about her reaction to books again.