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Cataclysm

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

Chapter Eight

Tumultuous.

If Eli had to choose a word to describe his relationship with Clare, 'tumultuous' would certainly not evade his thoughts. Everything between them was simpler because they had once known each other so well - known each other at their core, in ways that ten years of life could not shake - but so much less predictable because, on the surface, they were doing everything in their power not to be the teenagers they once were. Throughout those nights when he found no solace in slumber, he had decided Clare was avoiding herself to spite him, to spite everyone who had hurt the warm, compassionate girl that was her genuine self. Eli wanted nothing less than to succumb to the shadow of his former self, because that was what had gotten him - them - to this place.

He wasn't sure if he'd expected Clare to let him into her place, or if she'd speak to him at all when he came bounding around the corner calling her name frantically. He'd just been so desperate. Something inside of him was clinging to the moments in which Clare smiled at him, laughed with him, coexisted with him. They were such short seconds, though, and it felt like his sanity was crumbling every time they ended so abruptly, as they always seemed to be doing. The intangibility of it all - nothing to hold on to, nothing to reassure him but the mind and memories he couldn't trust - made his skin burn and the only thing that could extinguish the flames he felt was to see her face.

Being near her was awkward, and it made his palms sweaty and the erratic pace of his heart was borderline distracting as it pounded without rhythm in his ears. Eli felt 17 years old walking into her apartment for the second time, an age that he both cherished and dreaded the idea of ever reliving.

"What's up?" He jumped when she spoke, both his confidence and adrenaline having abandoned him somewhere between the hallway and her living room. He glanced up at her, no effort to conceal the action of wiping his hands on his black jeans. He was here, in front of her, and terrified as he might be he could feel that something had changed in the last twelve hours, something that urged him not to hide behind any kind of front.

"We were best friends," he blurted. It was the first thing that had popped into his head. When her gaze didn't falter but her expression remained unaffectedly blank, he continued. "We were more than best friends..." He trailed off, unsure of his own direction. To his relief, Clare smiled, but there was something inherently bereaved about it and he felt worried again when she stopped looking at him, and attached her focus to some inanimate object in the room.

"There's not even a label for what we were," she said, her voice quiet but unwavering. Eli stepped towards her, his hands raising in her direction while they gestured wildly to convey the meaning he couldn't seem to verbalize.

"So why can't we just go back to that?" he begged. Clare looked at him wide-eyed, and he dropped his hands. "I just want to be friends with you again," he added, dejection already creeping into his voice.

Clare covered her face with her hands, hoping the pressure on her eyes could make this more clear. She breathed deeply.

"I don't even know who you are anymore, Eli," she reasoned, exhaustion in her words.

"Of course you do. Clare, I'm still me... I haven't changed!" He sounded anxious now, and he couldn't quite say where his hysteria was coming from.

"Is that really such a good thing?" she asked, peeking through her fingers. Eli faltered, so she clarified, "Is that what we want? To be the same people that we used to be, on the same path we've already followed?" Eli felt himself shrink, wishing he didn't know exactly what she meant.

"It's been so long, we wouldn't make the same mistakes." Clare paused, contemplating his words.

"Wouldn't we?" Eli didn't even hesitate before shaking his head. Clare's sad smile returned.

"I'm glad you can say that, but I don't trust it, Eli. It would just be more pain." Eli looked at her strangely for a second before his face fell.

"Clare, please," he whispered, begging as he tried to grab her hand. She wrenched it away from him, the space between them expanded in an instant. Eli was taken aback by her sudden movement, and could only watch her from where he stood, now further away. "Why are you shaking?" he asked, wary of her answer. She looked at him, the reason for her trembling splayed clearly and regretfully across her face. Eli felt destroyed. "Are you scared of me?"

"You have no idea." The next few seconds stretched out endlessly between them. Eli felt anguished and dizzy. "We can't be friends, Eli," Clare finally said. "Last night... this morning... it's not going to change anything. I still hate you." Eli frowned.

"Do you?" he asked bleakly. Clare couldn't help but notice the saddened expression and sighed.

"No," she muttered. Eli narrowed his eyes, his determined intent bubbling once more.

"You're so... inconsistent, Clare! I don't understand why you want to hate me. Getting along is so clearly a possibility, why do you find the alternative so much more appealing?" Clare tilted her head, considering carefully her next words.

"That's what I'm scared of. If I let myself stop hating you, I don't trust what's going to take it's place." She looked up at him earnestly, but he closed his eyes.

"You're making this so hard for me," he mumbled, "I don't see how I'm supposed to be okay with that. Not when it would be so easy to get it all back, everything we had." Clare laughed a bitter, cynical laugh and Eli frowned again.

"Is it easy for you? Easy to see me, easy to talk to me, easy to know I'm sleeping on the couch you and your girlfriend bought? I'm sorry if I've made it easy, I certainly wasn't trying."

"What do you mean?" She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight.

"I want you to hate me as much as I want to hate you. That's what seems easy to me. It's painful for me to be around you, Eli. I haven't forgotten what happened, I'm still hurt. It's fantastic that you were able to move on, able to draw on new maturity and accept what happened but I never even started my healing process. Any closure I could hope to have hasn't begun to form. I had Julia, Eli, and you were her boyfriend. She loved you, and you were supposed to be together forever. So when you left..." she dug her hands into her pockets, looking at the floor with guilt. "It had to be about her, Eli. What I lost couldn't even begin to match the hurt she was feeling. What right did I have to be upset, to cry, to worry about making myself feel better when she needed the comfort so much more than I did?"

"But that's not true, Clare, you had every right to be as hurt as Julia was -"

"Was I in as much pain as Julia? Probably," she cut him off, her tone unbearably casual. "Did I have the right? No. We both know that." Eli remained silent, conceding her point.

"It stopped hurting after awhile, of course it did, but not because I'd dealt with the pain... because I pushed it to the back of my mind and, most of the time, I was able to pretend it didn't exist. But it's still there, and it's still raw. Every time I see you... yeah, I could laugh and smile and reminisce and be friends, but I have to try so hard, because behind all of that I'm still trying to get over what you did ten years ago." Eli opened his mouth to respond, but Clare cut him off again correcting, "What happened ten years ago."

"I didn't do it to hurt you, Clare," Eli said. "I always knew that if I could, I would go back and change everything. Then, here you are, and I have the chance to make everything right but you're asking me not to as if it hasn't been my biggest regret for ten years." Eli felt tears in his eyes, and it required all of his concentration not to let them destroy his composure.

"Eli..." Clare's voice was tender all of a sudden, and Eli was shocked to see her reaching for his face. Her small hands felt smooth against the stubble along his jaw, and her fingers were featherlight against his cheeks. Her thumb stretched out to catch a tear that he couldn't hold back. "I can't," she whispered. Eli clenched his eyes shut, droplets squeezing out from between his eyelashes, and he leaned his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry," she kept repeating, her breath on his face and Eli wanted nothing more than to pull her closer and feel her against every part of him, to make as permanent her imprint against him as was possible. "I'm sorry."

The sound of the door opening jolted them apart, but not quickly enough to avoid Jake's shocked and questioning face. Eli dragged his hands surreptitiously across his face, sniffling quietly. Wordlessly, he glanced at Clare and pushed past the man in the doorway, disappearing into the hall.

Clare felt paralyzed, the nerves she felt in Jake's presence far different from those she had experienced around Eli. Jake raised an eyebrow, turning to shut the door with force Clare deemed somewhat excessive. When he turned back around, she was surprised to see him looking angry.

He glared at her from his spot in front of the door, and she held his gaze steadily. She could see the thoughts running rampant behind his eyes, they're usual calm taking on a crazed glisten. He stared at her like that silently before startling her by turning and kicking over the suitcase he had left by the doorway. It fell with a heavy thud, but not before knocking over the small table next to it, the glass bowl on top crashing down with a shatter that made Clare flinch.

"What the hell, Clare?" he was suddenly demanding, his tone menacing and unrecognizable. She fought the urge to step away from him.

"I thought you were still in San Francisco," she answered lamely. The acidic laugh that she received in return made her skin run cold.

"You know, Clare," he began, hands on his hips. "We're supposed to be drama-free. No baggage. Not only is your baggage suddenly showing up all over the place, but you're inviting it into my home." Clare stiffened.

"Your home? And in case you've forgotten, you were the one who wanted us to get to know them in the first place!" Jake shook his head.

"Which completely backfired, and I apologized! That's a moot point, Clare. I did that to avoid these ridiculous situations, because I thought that's what you'd want. This... melodramatic, phony, spiteful Clare is not the woman I thought I asked to move in with me." Clare's jaw dropped.

"You barely knew the woman you asked to move in with you in the first place! You don't even understand what just happened, Jake, you have no idea why he was here so do not jump to conclusions and begin to question my character."

"Tell me why he was here, then, love, because I'm having a hard time following the story these days. Yesterday you couldn't stand him! You claim not to care about him but from where I stand, a lot of effort goes into thinking about him."

"Oh, I'm in trouble because I care about something. Is that what this is about, Jake? Your house is a drama-free zone, and my baggage is interrupting the harmony of your life? No emotions allowed? I see, me having feelings about something is a deal-breaker. Good to know." Her tone was fluctuating from venomous to hysterical, her volume following suit. Jake, whose hands had been flailing while he paced a small area in front of her froze.

"Do you have feelings for him?" Clare's eyes flew wide open and she struggled for a response.

"That is positively asinine," she asserted. Jake laughed under his breath, all defenses abandoned as he reached for his glass-showered suitcase lying on the floor. Clare stepped towards him, forcing her body into his line of vision. "What are you doing?" she demanded. He hissed as a shard of glass cut his finger, but ignored the injury and settled the bag upright.

"It doesn't matter, it's just clear that I came home too early. So go ahead and deal with whatever you need to deal with, and I'm going to deal with something other than you." Though her anger was pulsing through her veins, his words both stung and terrified Clare.

"Jake, no," she began, but he didn't let her finish. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, looking at her pointedly.

"Should've just said 'no,' Clare." She immediately knew that he questioned her response about her feelings for Eli, and shame washed over her.

"Jake! I'm saying 'no' right now, don't leave," she pleaded. He stared at her for a few seconds, and Clare thought he was going to stay, but then he shook his head and continued out the door.

Clare felt infinitely alone among the broken glass.