Back again :) and thank you Starstar412 for reviewing, and Cherrycoffycake, that really means a lot :-) You really made my day, as do all of you who read and review and stuff :3
There is a pile of art homework just watching me write this. I'm sure I'll get round to it, after I finish procrastinating of course ;)
Hope you enjoy the chapter ~nellen :D xx
"Clive! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Um..." the boy faltered, halfway through buttering a slice of toast and singing a song about it, "making breakfast, you?"
"Don't give me your cheek! I have literally the worst headache ever and I don't it right now!" Flora yelled angrily, startling Clive a lot more than it should have.
"I've only gotten to know you again a little, but I don't remember you being this shouty," he pouted childishly, muttering under his breath.
"I heard that!" She snarled, holding one hand to her head and the other to her stomach, "everything. Totally. Kills."
"Oh..." Clive murmured, quiet enough to avoid being heard this time. He'd heard about this, about girls and meanness. Prison taught you a lot. He racked his brains as he tried to remember the conversation, frowning as he couldn't. He decided he'd just ask, "what's the worst that can happen?"
"What's wrong Flora?" He asked, mentally kicking himself for being so blunt. "I mean, everything ok?"
"No."
"Oh..." Clive fell silent again, deciding it would be best just to not talk as opposed to facing the wrath of his friend.
Flora didn't have any classes that day, so didn't bother getting changed from her pyjamas. She asked if Clive would be joining her in staying at home, but he politely made his excuses to go. Busking wasn't a proper job, sure, but he'd much rather do that than spend a day treading on eggshells around her. Besides, he had stuff to do. Things to buy. People to cheer up.
It was around five o'clock when he finally drifted home, well, what he supposed was home. He still wasn't entirely sure where he stood in that, or his friendship with Flora. Flora. He sighed wearily as his fingers rapped gently against the door. There were a lot of things he didn't understand about Flora. The way she was acting now, the way she had acted yesterday, the way she was so kind and caring one minute then cross and cold the next. But the thing he understood least of all, was the way she made him feel.
"You don't have to knock you know, unless you're going out of your way to annoy me," the girl in question growled, standing in the doorway. She was still dressed in her pyjamas, Clive noted with a smirk.
"I know, but I have something for you," he smiled up at her from the doorstep. Her brow furrowed in confusion, "is that why you have your hands behind your back?"
"May-be," he sung, "close your eyes."
Flora did as she was told, opening them again when he told her to.
"Flowers and chocolate," he grinned, "original I know."
Flora just stared at him, opened mouthed. "You bought these, for me? Even after I was such a bitch?"
"Well... Yeah..." Clive paused, "wait.. How do I justify buying her these without looking like a freak.."
"Oh well they're beautiful," she beamed, "thank you."
Clive sighed in relief as he climbed the steps to her house, following her into the kitchen. She found an empty vase under the sink and filled it with water. "What else did you buy then?" she asked, focusing on removing some of the leaves and stems so the flowers would fit in better, "I saw you had a few bags."
"Oh," he smiled, taking out some of his things. "I went busking again, and decided I probably needed some better clothes and stuff, so I went shopping."
"What did you get?"
"Uh, some t-shirts, a new pair of jeans," he rechecked the bag, having forgotten what else was in it, "oh, and a new jacket."
"Jesus Clive, how much money did you make?" Flora laughed in disbelief as he pulled out his new clothes to show her, "and why didn't you buy some pyjamas?"
"Oh, cause like I said, I don't want to take a lend of your good nature forever so I won't be here much longer and you don't really need pyjamas on the streets, and I made... Somewhere around fifty quid today, it was a good day. I've been saving up a while too, so I've got around two hundred or something in my pocket. And before you ask, I'm not stupid for not spending it on food or whatever, I was saving it because I know times are getting harder and I needed something to fall back on if my busking earnings start to dwindle."
"Didn't ask for your life story," Flora giggled, eyebrows raised. "I think you made quite a sensible decision, although you really should have used some of it for food or shelter. I do think you're stupid for thinking I'd let you go back on the streets, however, because even if I am a PMS bitch at times, I'm not going to."
"Well fine," Clive pouted, knowing when to give in. "At least take this then." He grabbed Flora's handing, turning it palm-up and press a bundle of notes into it. "There's a hundred, let that cover rent or something."
"Clive no, I can't take this from you," she sighed, sliding it back into his pocket, "you need it. Let me see the shirts you've bought then, I wanna know what sort of style you have." She was determined to change the subject, she hated taking money from people in general, let alone so much from someone that had worked really hard for it.
"Well," he grinned, cheering her up as he did so, "there was a really cool stall at the market selling off cheap music ones, so I got five for like 20 quid." He spread them out across the table, pointing to each one in turn. "A Blink 182 one, an MCR one, a Panic! One, an Arctic Monkeys one, and finally a Ramones one, because the classics are always best."
"Didn't really have you down as a that kind of music person, say what music do you actually like?" Flora asked, sitting down on one of the chairs and studying his choices a bit closer. She wasn't really a huge fan of the music on the clothes, but she never held anything against people who were.
"I don't really have a definite type, I like all sorts. Mainly this," he waved at the t-shirts, "like, I like American stuff, Blink 182, Pixies, Ramones, Paramore, mostly rock really. But I preferred British music if I'm honest. Arctic Monkeys, the older stuff cause what I've heard of the new stuff kinda sucks, Jamie T, The Kooks, Two Door Cinema Club, Gorillaz, The Clash, Friendly Fires, Kasabian, Noah and The Whale, Joy Division, Kate Nash is alright, The Cure, Muse, Hard Fi, The Vaccines, White Lies-"
"Clive, you're rambling!" Flora cut him off with a laugh, covering his mouth with her hand. "But remind me to ask you if music ever crops up in an English assignment or anything."
He nodded cheerfully, glad that she'd stopped him rambling. He could talk about music for hours on end, and was well aware how irritating he could get. "Okay!"
"So what does the jacket look like? What kind of jeans are they?" Flora continued, now genuinely interested in what he had bought. He was surprising her quite a lot already, even more so when he showed her the final two items. An army-style jacket, with a fur rimmed hood, and a pair of charcoal skinny jeans.
"Again, never had you down as this kind of person, but I have been pleasantly surprised," she mused, looking through his choices again. "They're nice."
"You know when you say 'never had you down as that kind of person'? What kind of person did you think I was?" Clive frowned, folding up his purchases and sliding then back into the bag. He wasn't sure whether to be offended or not, so he thought he'd just let her explain.
"Well, I dunno really. Every time I've heard you sing it's been sort of soft or folky rock, and well, what you're wearing now is kind of different to this," she pointed to him and then at the bag, "I didn't think you would be a skinny jeans wearer, for example."
"These are skinny jeans," he frowned, tugging at the faded and baggy jeans he had worn for a while. "And this used to be a Clash t-shirt, and this used to be a semi-decent jacket," he pulled at each item in turn, although it was the jeans that bothered Flora the most. "Aren't skinny jeans meant to, well, be skinny?" She mumbled, deciding his demonstration wasn't enough and stretching the material herself. There had to be at least two inches of spare fabric around his thighs, and they might as well have been flared at the bottom.
"They were when I bought them," he shrugged, "I might go and get changed now actually, these need washed really bad... Um..." he sniffed the sleeve of his t-shirt, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "really really badly..."
"I know," his friend laughed, picking up his shopping and thrusting it into his arms. "Go and try these on then, oh and throw down the stuff you're wearing, I'll stick it in to be washed."
"You, Miss Reinhold, are a star," Clive grinned, turning to leave. She heard him sprint up the stairs and slam the bathroom door behind him. There was a vague thump as a bundle of clothes hurtled down the stairs, and Flora skipped through into the hallway. She paused, tilting her head as the sound of singing found her ears again. It was a different style of Clive singing, and Flora realised she'd have to get used to it. She'd have to get used Clive being different. Singing different songs, wearing different clothes, doing different things.
"Maybe he's always been like this," she thought to herself, "maybe you just haven't realised."
"Well, what do you think?" Her eyes snapped up, face falling into a smile as he paraded down the stairs in his Blink shirt, jeans and jacket, pulling a ridiculous pose on every other one.
"I think you look wonderful, Mr Dove," she grinned, and for once in a while, he felt it.
A/N; I gave Clive my music taste, don't judge :L also, I do believe the Arctic Monkeys thing too, I mean I probably should be more open to change, but I miss the likes of Fluorescent Adolescent and Leave Before The Lights Come On, they were more... *shrugs* My kinda thing I guess :)
I suppose I should make a start on that art now.. ~nellen x) xx