God, he infuriates her so much, and it's over the stupidest thing ever. Worst yet, he wouldn't even explain why he was so aggravated; Eli resorted to locking himself in his room- tucked away from her, refusing to face the problem he had started. If there's one bad quality about him, it's that he's as stubborn as hell when it comes to explanations. Communication is what they lack for the most part, the prime source of their disputes.
Clare angrily excuses herself from the table and stalks off, grabbing Adam's jacket on the way and shoving the backyard screen door behind her. The air is icy, ruthlessly stabbing her legs and face from the moment she stepped out into the cold. Again her nightgown has proven itself to be inadequate against the frosty temperature, and in her intense exasperation she considers ripping the thin clothing article off and inviting the bitter cold to bite her skin. She needs some sort of outing for her aggravation, and doing something recklessly unavailing is usually quite satisfying. However, her chattering teeth plead against it, and so she grumbles and settles for stomping roughly on the crunchy snow. Her bare toes curl in protest against the coldness, but she obstinately continues to stomp in frustration.
"He's so- ugh!" she mutters furiously, wrapping her arms around her torso. There's probably a better way to define it, but her mind is too clouded with rage to think of it. Could ugh be a feeling, because that's how I feel ninety-nine percent of the time.
She shivers, squinting through the thick evergreen trees. In the parking lot beyond the yard, an old man was cheerfully walking along with a kind-faced lady on his arm. Clare scowls bitterly, feeling resentful rather than touched by the wonderful show of long-lasting love before her.
"That's Mr. and Mrs. Paul," Adam murmurs from somewhere behind her. She had been so wrapped up in her anger, she hadn't noticed his presence. He gingerly wraps a thick woolly blanket around her shoulders- the same one he had lent her earlier. "They live in the neighbourhood. They've been married for over forty-five years. Has their fair share of fights, I can tell you that."
"They seem so happy, though. They don't seem like the fighting type," Clare says in an undertone, watching the older couple smile at each other.
"You can hear them sometimes in the night," he says, eyeing them as well. "It can go on for hours, the two of them."
"What do they fight about?" she asks grudgingly, mostly out of curiously.
"Oh, little things," he shrugs meaningfully. "Once about their grandson and how he's choosing to live his life. Apparently, Mr. Paul doesn't like too much that he's living in a condo. Says he'll attract more robbers that way, living an ostentatious life. Mrs. Paul thinks it's more practical for him, having so many kids. He needs a lot of space, and a measly apartment wouldn't do much for him."
"But obviously Mrs. Paul was right, wasn't she? It's a more practical and realistic alternative."
Adam shakes his head. "Mr. Paul just wants the best for him, what's the most safe. It's not the most reasonable choice, but all he ever wants is for his grandson to be secure. It's in his best interest, anyway."
"I suppose," she says thoughtfully. "What happened?"
"They failed to see things through each other's eyes. They were too hell-bent on proving their point, they hadn't even tried to find reason on the other's side, "he says quietly. The older couple were now gone, and have probably ambled off still arm-in-arm. "Once they realized that, it was just a matter of civilly sharing their own perspectives and being open to the other's."
Clare says nothing, thinking about the happy elder couple. She wants that, that undying kind of love. The type that never wavers or fades, where she could still look him in the eyes and see the guy she loved fifty years ago. She then thinks of Eli, and how ridiculous their fights are most of the time. How they drag on with more intensity than necessarily. This could only means two things- it could mean that they were strong, managing to stay together after all they been through. They aren't perfect; they aren't anywhere near being perfect. But as they are still in each other's lives despite the many hardships, it could be directly translated as insuperable strength of love- their love. On the other hand, it could mean that they weren't improving as long as they continued to fight. It may only be a matter of time before they broke it of completely, due to the amount of unhealthy, escalating frustration and anger towards each other.
"I want that," she whispers longingly. "What they have."
"You're dead close," Adam says encouragingly, a hint of a smile on his face. He's frightening good at balancing out goofiness and sageness, maintaining his role as their neutral friend to perfection. He's Eli's best friend, so Clare finds it odd that he had came to her rather than him. She's not complaining, though. In terms of stubbornness, they are both evenly matched- it's just that Eli tends to be a sliver more difficult to penetrate.
"Thank you," she says quietly, giving him a brief hug before striding towards the door.
Her feet find their way towards the stairs, her mind oddly cool and clear. Most of her anger had evaporated- as it would have, given enough time to cool down-. Soon enough, she discovers herself face-to-face to Eli's bedroom door, and takes a deep breath to compose herself. She hasn't a single clue what to say, but she knows something needs to be said.
Three brisk knocks, and she waits. No answer. She knocks thrice again, and soon the sound of his stereo blasting rings her eardrums. Evidently, he's nowhere near as ready to talk as she likes to think she is.
"Open the door please, Eli," she says loudly, jangling the locked doorknob.
The music grows louder, and even through the thick walls Clare finds herself cringing. He's obviously avoiding her.
"Eli, please!" she implores loudly, continuing to knock on the door.
No response.
She has no reason to feel offended and hurt, but she does- the painful sting of rejection prickles her heart, and now that she's somewhat more enlightened, Eli's unwillingness to answer to her is more alarming than it would have been.
"If we can't be mature about something as trivial as this," she says, trying desperately to be heard over the blaring music, "then how are we going to deal when something bigger blows up in our face?" She pauses to let that bit of information sink in, before proceeding forward. "Don't you think you can at least try to gain some perspective?"
Bad choice of words. The stereo is now turned up to what must be the max, because the ground begins to vibrate under her feet.
"Eli!" she calls, banging on the wooden door. "We have to talk about this! We have to…"
Still no response.
"Please," she whispers, gazing sadly at the knob. Hey eyes drop to her leg, which crumple under her in disappointment.
It's all a mistake. Moving in here, giving up her home life- everything. Now that she's here, and everything's riding on him, he has even a greater influence on her now, and that in itself is dangerous. What if this is it? What if she ruined her chance at everything because of a silly teenage love…?
At the sound of music lowering significantly, Clare lifts her head. His expression is weary, and most of the exasperation had diminished.
"What are you doing here?" he asks softly.
"It's not like before now, Eli," she says breathily, still craning her neck to meet his eyes- his tired, lustreless eyes. "We can't handle fight like we used to, because we're living together now. The frivolousness has to stop."
His eyes bore into hers, completely unfathomable. Clare hastens to scramble onto her feet, hastening to say what she has to say.
"You have to admit, we're both incredibly headstrong and difficult to be with. I think now…we have to tell each other what we think rather than forcing our own opinion. We have to compromise, and we have to stop locking ourselves away and it'll be hard but we have to work at it. Otherwise we'll just fall apart and I don't want that. I want to be with you for as long as I possibly can," she says earnestly, her supposed-to-be serious speech sounding more like an awkward ramble than anything else. She mentally winces, thinking of all the better words she could have used to better sway Eli.
But hell, he's not giving her any sign that he's taken in anything she's said, and it's beginning to slowly drive her insane. Not a single twitch of a facial muscle she could detect, not a frown or a smile. Her eyes don't even move from hers. Clare shifts, resisting the urge to grab his shoulders and shake them hard. She'd plop him in a blender and squeeze all his juices out if it means getting an answer.
"It's not the same anymore, is it?" he murmurs, with the same blank look.
"Does it bother you?" she blurts, almost instantly regretting saying this as soon as it comes out. "Did you only offer me a place here because you felt guilty? Do you really want me here?"
He peruses her even more carefully, if possible.
"It seems like we have a lot to talk about," he says quietly. "Why don't you come in?"
And so she nods, keeping her head down while following him into his bedroom. It's a little messy, nothing too terrible, but so Eli altogether. His walls are painted black, decorated with a wide assortment of posters of his favourite bands. There's a bookshelf filled with novels and notebooks crammed together, with the odd bits of paper sticking out. A few articles of clothing are strewn across the floor- of course, the only pair of boxers lying lone on the carpet is what first catches Clare's eyes. He sloppily kicks it under his unmade bed, patting a space for her to sit.
"I just…hate to think that I might risk losing you again," he says thickly, face buried in hands.
"You're not going to," Clare whispers, placing a gentle hand on the small of his back. She scoots closer towards, endeavouring to understand why is he's so worried.
"For the first time, I t-thought it was secure. It's like n-now, it's finally final, and suddenly you want to go back…it kills me, Clare. It kills me every time, but it after I thought we were settled for good…"
He inhales sharply, and for the first time, she's the most displeased that his anger had dwindled. Eli sounds like he's been hurting so much, and it breaks her heart to see it.
"I feel so cold knowing that you want to go back to that place- where they've tormented you, Clare When y-you told m-me they hit you..."
He breaks off, taking in another sharp draw of air. His shoulders tremble slightly. With the dead silence of the room, Clare can hear the sob rippling down his chest, and stifles a gasp. He's crying.
"Anything can happen to you-to us," he says hoarsely, resurfacing. His once brilliant jade eyes are shinning with tears, rimmed with red. "You're the most precious thing to me, and it frightens the hell out of me."
It's there, lingering in the atmosphere, so palpable yet invisible. Eli had just revealed to her his greatest fear, and they were no longer treading a familiar depth of water. It's not about fighting anymore- though that is an important matter that needs to be addressed-. It's about need.
"I don't have tangible proof that you won't change your mind," he continues to whimper. "How can I..."
"I feel the same way," Clare laughs in spite of herself, in spite of the gravity of the situation. She caresses his back gingerly, as he leans into her. His head fits perfectly in the crook between her head and shoulder, and so she tilted her own head to rest on top of his. "It's not easy to think that my mom and dad aren't part of my life anymore. Even as awful as they are, a small part of me is going to miss them. A small part of me fears that you'll decide that this is all a mistake, and leave me."
He looks up at her abruptly. "Never."
She smiles sadly. "No tangible proof."
They sit there in thoughtful silence for a long time, perhaps lost in a cloudy haze of feelings, perhaps because they cannot think of anything else to say. Clare softly combs through his tangle of unkempt dark hair, occasionally letting her fingers slide down to the nape of his neck. He shudders in response, looking mildly pleased of her touch. After a while, Clare turns around to lightly kiss his dear head, able to see a single, glistening tear sit peacefully on his lashes. They're warm, despite the cool air.
"I have an idea," he whispers, face alight with inspiration. Careful not to cause too much movement that would disturb the serenity they created, he swiftly places both hands on either sides of her waist, lifting her up and onto his lap. Snaking his arms around her, he pulls off his black thumb ring and sets it on his open palm.
"I've never seen you without that before," Clare says softly, picking it up. "Your thumb looks so naked without it."
"I want you to have it," he says quietly, with such passion and tenderness and finality. He holds her tighter, resting his chin on her shoulder. The lone tear melts from his eyelashes, and slowly he begins to regain his state of well-being.
"Eli, you love this thing," she says, touching the black stone.
"I love you," he corrects, planting a chaste kiss on her neck. It's simple and innocent, but that about the gesture is what makes it so utterly affectionate. "You've heard of promise rings, before, haven't you?"
She hesitates, pondering over her own idea that had lit up in her head. Eli's ring safely in her fist, she tugs off the sliver band from around her ring finger, placing in his empty hand. It glitters prettily from the sliver of sunlight pouring through the crack between his curtains.
"In that case, I want you to have this," she whispers. "It probably won't fit around you finger-"
"Are you saying I have a fat finger?"
"-but we can find chains to wear around our necks." The corner of her lips twitch, as Eli smirks. "Don't take it personally, but your fingers are quite large compared to mine."
"That's because you have baby hands," he teases, lacing his fingers between his own. "So as long as we wear these, I promise to never abandon you."
"I promise I won't leave. I promise," she vows sincerely. Eli's face crinkles in happiness. There's something about having something to physically hold in his hands that he finds reassuring, something he can't explain. Similarly, it's easier to feel reassured by her existence when she was in his arms, rather than with facts and evidence. The doubt diminishes significantly, and his whole heart swells in hearing her say the words out loud.
"Tangible proof," he smiles blissfully, placing yet another kiss on her neck.
"I think this is a wonderful idea," she says dreamily, allowing him to shower her with more and more kisses. His lips are soft and moist, and they feel like Heaven on her skin. Likewise, it feels like Heaven to Eli, being able to kiss someone as incredible as Clare. "Anytime you find yourself doubting, look at my purity ring and know that-"
He stops to gaze at her, wanting to drink in everything she's about to say.
"And know that I'm here," she promises. "As long as you need me."
A kiss- a real one this time- seems like the perfect way to close off, and Eli doesn't dither in pressing his lips against hers. It feels like decades since their last one, far too long for his liking.
"So my stuff," Clare breaks off suddenly, leaving Eli in disappointed surprise. He hadn't nearly enough time to deepen the kiss, nor was his hands able to begin their exploration.
"We'll go back there together," he allows, unable to keep the discontent from his voice, "but on one condition."
"What's that?"
He looks seriously at her.
"That when we come home, we are going to have a decent, steamy make-out session with an adequate amount of touching."