disclaimer. i do not own degrassi.

rating. T

note. idk what this is tbh. i was watching a bunch of eclare episodes and got a bad case of the feels. this is a result of me being annoyed as fuck with the character development the writers ended up with. at this point i refuse to deal with the bullshit they've given us and have retaliated with angsty fan fiction. i'll try to update this but you know, college man.

also, please excuse any errors. didn't really proofread so it might suck. but leave a review anyway, yeah?

note 2. oh yeah, some of this was inspired by Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl. i take no credit of that either.

summary. "No, Clare, you don't get it. I'm hard to love. I'm so fucking messed up you wouldn't believe it."

The whole morning disaster was all Adam's fault.

At least that was what Eli liked to think. It was favorite pastime to point fingers at the younger boy. But in all honesty, most of the blame fell upon his own shoulders. No one had told him to knock back half a dozen drinks the night before at WhisperHug's performance. And nobody forced him to invite the band and their friends over to his and Adam's shared apartment.

But that's exactly what Eli did.

And Adam hadn't even tried to stop him from getting shitfaced on a Sunday.

Some best friend.

So when Eli's alarm went off Monday morning, he swore viciously and silenced the device with a heavy hand. Eyes squeezed shut, he remained sprawled out on his bed for a short while before he heard someone come into his room.

"Dude," a familiar voice said, shaking his shoulder roughly. "What the hell, are you skipping today?"

Groaning, Eli sent Adam the bird. It grated his nerves that his best friend was nowhere near as hungover as he was. "Piss off."

"Fine then," continued Adam, his footsteps heading towards the door. "I just thought you needed to go because of that assignment you were stressing out about on Saturday."

Eli stiffened. "Aw, hell."

"Yeah, figured as much."

Groggily, Eli sat up and ruffled his already messy hair. His head was throbbing painfully and his mouth was dry. A cold shower and some coffee sounded heavenly to him.

However, when Eli checked his phone he realized he had only twenty minutes until class started. And for the slightest moment, he considered just forgetting about the rest of the morning and staying in.

But he had given up his entire Saturday for a writing assignment and Eli didn't want it to be in vain. Especially since he felt like he did a decent job on it.

Eli took a three-minute shower and threw on whatever he could find before slipping into the kitchen. As he passed by the cramped living room he saw a few familiar faces asleep on the floor recovering from a long night of music and drinks. Curled together on the couch was WhisperHug's drummer, Imogen, and her girlfriend Fiona.

"Here," said Adam as he slid a dark blue coffee container across the counter. "Because I'm an angel."

"More like the devil in disguise," grumbled Eli while taking an appreciative sip. The fresh aroma perked up his senses, the heady taste relentless against his tongue.

Adam stuffed his mouth with some toast, slowly appraising Eli. "You should probably at least dry your hair. You look like a wet cat."

Eli shrugged. "I'll roll down the windows."

"In the middle of October?" said Adam with a snort. "Have fun with your cold."

Eli smirked. "What? Worried about my well being?"

"You wish," retorted Adam. "I'm worried about myself. You act like a little bitch when you're sick."

"Screw you."

With little time to spare, Eli slipped on his jacket and grabbed his things before rushing to his car. The apartment wasn't far from campus, but it was New York and that meant congested streets and assholes behind the wheel.

Eli included himself in the group of bastards who had no problem cutting people off and blowing past self righteous bicyclists.

After scrambling around for a parking space and taking the stairs two at the time up the building, Eli managed to arrive only five minutes late. It was great feat on his part; one that he thought deserved a nice pat on the back.

The class had around thirty students, meaning that Eli tried blending into the background as he searched for an empty spot in the back row. He slipped into a seat, pleased to see that his professor was too busy fiddling with something on her laptop to notice his frazzled presence.

Eli glanced to the person sitting beside him. "Did she collect the poetry reflections yet?"

The girl shook her head, auburn curls bouncing along. "Not yet."

Letting out a long sigh of relief, Eli leaned back in his chair and tried catching his breath. The headache he felt hadn't quite faded away yet, making him wish he had taken another Ibuprofen, or maybe two (or three for that matter). He closed his eyes and tried focusing on his rapid heartbeat.

"Rough morning?" the girl asked, slight amusement laced in her tone.

"Killer," muttered Eli, running a clammy hand down his face. It took another minute before he felt his nerves return to normal. When he finally felt calmer, he peeked at the girl.

Recognition clicked in his mind now that he wasn't in a hurry. She was one of Professor Dawson's favorite students to call on whenever discussion stilted. Clare Edwards: the quiet force to be reckoned with, the one with strong and intriguing opinions.

She was also the girl with the prettiest set of eyes that Eli had seen in a long time.

Professor Dawson gathered the room's attention and asked them all to pass forward their work. When the flutter of papers reached the front, she scanned the class with a wry smile. "The reason I wanted everyone here," she began, walking to the desk and leaning against the edge, "is because your midterm begins today."

She paused, allowing the information to settle in. There were a couple ruffled feathers, people who didn't appreciate being thrown this curveball. "The other reason is because this assignment will be done in pairs." Her smiled widened, aware that the students didn't exactly welcome this detail. "So it's a good thing we've had three weeks to get acquainted with one another."

Eli felt like slamming his head against the desktop. He'd taken up Fiction Writing as a last minute decision, hoping it would help him with his script for his film project. And for the most part, it had. But suddenly he felt like he had made a grave mistake.

Professor Dawson went on to explain their assignment. They'd be writing a story together, trading paragraphs back and forth to stress the importance of plot and voice. It was brilliant and mental all at once.

"I'm not sure if she's a genius or just mad."

Eli faced Clare who was staring at their professor with furrowed brows. "Probably a little of both," he muttered.

She nodded and then met his gaze head on. Her eyes reminded Eli of ocean waters in the Bahamas, the kind of blue-green waves that belonged in paradise. The type that sent ripples down his spine.

"Partners?" she asked, even though it was clear he didn't have much of a choice. Especially since everyone was pairing up with whoever they sat by. And of course Eli had chosen today to not sit in his regular spot by the few people he knew.

"Sure," he said, when he rather have told her no.

.

.

.

One of the many things Eli enjoyed about New York was its music scene. There was no shortage of bars, meaning that WhisperHug had many opportunities to schedule a gig.

So the next night they were all out again. This time performing at one of their regulars near campus with a full house. WhisperHug had a pretty decent following, their indie-pop sound a favorite to play on their college radio (it also helped that Adam DJ'ed with his buddy Dave every Wednesday).

Sitting in one of the corner tables, Eli knocked back a shot of vodka. Lenore squeezed beside him, clinging to his arm and nipping at his ear.

"Want another round?" he asked, relishing the burn in the back of his throat.

She nodded against his neck.

Maneuvering through the crowd of moving bodies, Eli slipped his way through back to the bar and ordered two more drinks. It took longer than usual, with the bartender flirting shamelessly with some raven-haired beauty who had feather dusters for eyelashes.

"Alli!" a familiar voice called out over the blaring music. "Did you get our drinks?"

Puzzled, Eli watched as Clare settled beside the dark haired girl. She was dressed in a figure-hugging romper, hair wildly curly, eyes bright. The bartender gave her an appreciative once over when she appeared.

"On the house," he told them, handing over their margaritas with a lazy grin.

Eli cleared his throat. "You done there buddy?"

The bartender shot him a look before going over to get more glasses. At that moment, Clare saw Eli and smiled as she sipped from her straw. "Hey," she greeted. "Didn't think I'd see you again so soon."

"That makes two of us."

"Who's your friend?" the other girl asked Clare as she unabashedly scrutinized him. Eli could tell he didn't live up to her standards. His grey T-shirt and jeans couldn't compete with her halter-top and scarlet pumps.

"Writing partner," explained Clare. "Alli—Eli. Eli—Alli."

Alli arched a perfect brow at him but refused to say anything else.

"Eli."

He turned and saw Lenore standing behind him pouting with her arms crossed. "What's the hold up?" she asked, not so discreetly glancing at Clare and Alli.

"Uh—"

"Here man," interrupted the bartender, passing him his drinks. "Try not to cockblock next time, okay?"

Eli frowned. "I wasn't—"

Before he could finish, Lenore dragged him away. Feeling a dose of whiplash, he allowed her to take them to the main floor and squeeze their way to the front row. Although he was a bit irritated with her behavior, Eli preferred letting the moment pass and lost himself to the crowd's energy. With the music replacing his heartbeat, Eli gave into the night.

.

.

.

Wearing a shit-eating grin, Adam emerged from backstage with the rest of WhisperHug and greeted everyone. He was sweaty and his fringe was stuck to his forehead; he looked like he just finished a marathon.

However, the blonde holding his hand didn't seem to mind one bit.

"Nice set," Eli complimented, when he finally managed to detangle himself from Lenore when she ran into some friends. "You owned it tonight."

"I had to," said Adam with a laugh. "My girl was here tonight."

Becky smiled as he pulled her even closer to his hip, arms winding tightly around her waist. She leaned into his touch. "Yup, don't want embarrass yourself in front me."

Eli didn't think it was possible, but Adam's grin widened. He was sure his friend didn't realize that his smile looked like it was about to touch both his ears. And rather than point it out, Eli saved his remarks for another time. Just watching the two interact made him uncomfortable in more ways than one.

As they settled into one of the larger booths, groupies and friends of WhisperHug appeared. When Imogen spotted Eli, she playfully shoved him to make room for her to sit.

"Where's your other half?" he asked her, ignoring Zig and Maya from across the table as they gave each other I wanna fuck you eyes.

Imogen sighed dramatically and rested her head against his shoulder. "She couldn't come tonight," she informed with an obvious pout. "She needed to finish another design project."

"Bummer."

"Tell me about it," said Imogen. "What about you? Where's Bubble Gum?"

Eli's brows furrowed together. "Bubble Gum?"

Imogen gave a tinkering laugh. "Oh, that's right. Zig hasn't told you yet—Bubble Gum is the nickname he came up for your precious Eleanor."

Sighing, Eli didn't bother correcting her about Lenore's name. It was never clear whether Imogen was being oblivious or tactless. It was most likely a mixture of both. "And why exactly did he come up with that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" said Imogen, rolling her eyes. "She sticks to you like gum on a shoe."

Eli couldn't help barking a laugh. He shook his head, reigning in another impending chuckle. "Huh, that's actually pretty good."

She smiled wryly. "So when are you gonna give her the boot?"

Taking a deep breath, Eli shrugged. "Already did," he answered. "But as you can see, scraping her off my foot is a lot harder than I thought."

"According to her, you two just haven't made it official."

"Yeah, well according to Adam, he's NYU's sex god."

Imogen winked. "Hey, you never know."

As Mo brought over a fresh bottle of vodka, Eli squirmed a bit, wondering why Lenore was under the impression that they were progressing into something more. He thought they had made it clear that they saw each other for a good time, not anything serious. She was so carefree that Eli felt like there wouldn't be any attachment issues.

But clearly that wasn't the case.

Suddenly, Eli felt uneasy. The alcohol in his stomach churned at the anticipation of having to deal with Lenore and her unreachable expectations. It was a battle he was dreading, one he was sure that would be blown out of proportions.

Eli ran a sweaty hand through his hair and glanced around for Adam. He needed to tell him he was leaving without him before Lenore returned. But when he spotted his best friend chatting up with Clare of all people, Eli threw caution to the wind.

Somehow having to speak to the blue-eyed girl didn't appeal to him. Just the mere thought jolted him with a stronger dose of anxiety.

So without a second thought, Eli excused himself and slipped outside. Once inside the safety of Morty, he sent Adam a text and dug up a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment.

His hand trembled violently as he tried lighting one up, the tongue of flame grazing his skin with heated kisses. He leaned his head back against the seat, lashes lowered as took a long drag. Focusing on exhaling the breath of smoke, he fought to keep the flashes of memories at bay.

But they were relentless.

Long dark hair. Smokey eyes. Scrap metal.

Breathe, Eli. Jesus fuck, just breathe.

He hated her then and he hated her now. She had swooped into his life and ruined everything, destroying whatever scraps of normalcy he had. Julia had been a walking disaster, one that made Eli another casualty.

He tried to get a hold of himself, tried to keep more pieces of himself from chipping away. However, it was fruitless, the memories overwhelming as they broke free from their chains.

The wave hit him and he was drowning again.

Hockey sticks. Ice. Rope. A greenhouse….

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Fuck this," growled Eli, turning on the car engine. He pulled out of the parking lot and stepped down on the gas pedal, hoping if he was fast enough, he'd leave everything behind.

.

.

.

"Whoa," said Adam, giving Eli the onceover the next morning as he entered the kitchen. "You look like shit."

"I feel like it, too," grumbled Eli, moving to fix himself a bowl of cereal.

"Where'd you run off to last night?" asked Adam from across the rickety table. "I got here before you did."

Eli kept his head down as he poured milk into the bowl. He'd spent the majority of the night pushing the speed limit and running as many red lights as possible. And to his displeasure, no damage had been done. Fate never seemed to give him what he wanted.

But Eli figured that his little episode of insanity wasn't a suitable breakfast topic. "Nowhere," he answered. "Just took a drive to clear my head."

"You could've at least told Bubble G—Lenore, that you were leaving. The girl wouldn't stop asking where you were."

Eli grimaced.

"I tried to cover for you and said you had school shit to finish. But I'm pretty sure she saw right through that one."

"Anybody would've saw through that one."

Adam grinned. "Hey, I was a little drunk and really horny. Be glad I even bothered."

Eli chuckled. "Did you at least get laid?"

His smile simmered down a fraction but he still looked content. "Nah, not yet. Becky's still not ready, so I'm trying not to push it."

Eli cocked a brow, mildly surprised. "Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just . . ."

"Just what?"

Eli hesitated, not sure if he could trust himself to not sound like a complete asshole. "It's just weird to me that you're so serious about this one," he said with a shrug. "Not trying to be a dick or anything but why go through so much trouble? She's not exactly your type."

Adam frowned for a moment as his forehead crinkled in thought. "I get where you're coming from. But the thing is, she's special. Different."

A smirk began forming on Eli's lips in amusement. "Different as in God-loving and virtuous?"

"No, jackass," snapped Adam as he sent a halfhearted kick from underneath the table. "Different as in, she's the only person who makes me feel the way music does."

Eli faltered and gaped at his friend. "You're serious?"

Adam looked at him, somewhat annoyed. "Yeah, I am."

He blinked. "Well, damn."

"So don't give her any shit when she comes over tonight."

Eli's nose scrunched a bit. "Seriously? Again? Can't you two be apart from each other for more than twenty-four hours?"

Adam showed no signs of shame. Unbothered, he leaned back in his chair, scrawny arms folded behind his head. "What can I say? She's got me whipped."

"You make me sick."

Rolling his eyes, Adam replied simply, "You need a yourself a girl, Eli."

He snorted. "In case you've forgotten, I have many."

Adam shook his head. "One night stands don't count."

"They do in my book," defended Eli.

Something shifted in Adam's eyes. There was a flicker of sympathy that made Eli hate himself even more. "That's why your story's so sad."

Eli's jaw locked in frustration and resentment. "My story's sad because I have shit luck."

.

.

.

When Eli arrived to Fiction Writing, he waivered for a moment in the doorway, unsure of where to sit. Since he was actually on time, he could go to his usual seat. But somehow that didn't feel right.

He glanced to the empty chair beside Clare and felt his gut tighten. The polite and logical thing to do was sit beside her, especially considering she was his writing partner and held power over his midterm.

Yet Eli had a compulsive urge to just blow her off completely.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he forced one foot in front of another and slid in next to Clare. Her eyes flickered towards him and his throat tightened.

She gave him a sideward glance before looking back to her cellphone. "Hey."

Eli swallowed painfully. "Hey."

He waited for her to say something else, to mention last night and perhaps point out Lenore's little stunt. However, she said nothing of the matter. In fact, she remained quiet and continued scrolling through her phone.

Eli wasn't sure if she was outright ignoring him for some reason. But it didn't appear to be the case and the vibe she was giving wasn't exactly hostile.

Not wanting to push it and find out he was wrong, Eli left Clare alone.

After two dreadfully long hours of class, the silence finally broke. She rolled her neck to rid its stiffness and smiled softly at him. It wasn't quite as vibrant as the day before. "Do you have time to work on the project today?"

"Yeah," answered Eli, gathering his papers. "I have a couple hours before my next class."

Clare nodded. "Wanna grab something to eat and start this thing?"

He shrugged his backpack straps onto his shoulders. "Sure."

Clare allowed Eli to choose where they wanted to eat. Not wanting to drag the process out, he settled for the nearest café. To his displeasure, it was crowded with people. They slipped into two separate lines to order.

After, as they stood together waiting for their drinks, Eli suddenly felt like the walls were closing in. The large amount of students invading his personal space, along with Clare leaning against his arm made him uneasy. And it shocked him how randomly another case of anxiety had crept upon him.

He considered digging through his backpack and swallowing some prescription pills dry just to calm down but resisted. Nothing made things awkward like mental issues, especially in such a public place.

Something tugged his wrist, sending a ripple up his arm.

Blinking rapidly, he turned to Clare and instantly regretted it. He wasn't much taller than her, with barely an or inch or two to his advantage. Without a safe distance between them, he was attacked by the full force of her ocean eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked, a crinkle of worry forming between her brows.

Quickly, Eli shook his head. "Nothing, I'm fine."

He could tell she didn't believe him, her fingers still hovering over his skin. But rather than pry, she allowed it to pass. Tongue dry, he watched her shift her weight from foot to foot, obviously trying to figure out what to say.

Eli would've helped her if weren't for the whole social ineptness going on.

Then Clare stopped fidgeting and looked at him with a playful smile. "Hmm," she began, making a show out of scrutinizing him (his heart rate spiked up immediately). "I bet you're one of those pretentious people who drink their coffee black, huh?"

Eli wasn't sure how he did it, but by an act of God or some higher power he managed to find his voice and conjured something relatively witty. "Yes, that way it'll match my soul."

He said it so seriously that he was surprised she found it funny.

Clare tilted her head back and laughed, the sound reminiscent of a child's. And as she did so, Eli was entranced by the expanse of her creamy neck, her luminous skin begging to be nipped and kissed.

Swiftly averting his eyes, Eli continued with her banter. "And I bet you're one of those weak folk who basically drink milk with coffee."

Her face was flushed as she nodded guiltily. "I can't help it. It's too bitter for me."

"It's an acquired taste," he admitted, relieved to finally breathe again. The anxiety began fading away as they spoke, it's claws losing their grip on him.

Clare offered him an easy smile and it helped settle his worries.

Eli was conflicted as they grabbed their orders and sat down at the counter facing out the large window. He had barely spent any time with Clare and he was suffering from an extreme case of whiplash; she made him antsy one second and relaxed the next.

It made no sense considering how little they knew about each other.

But Eli was certain this was a bad thing. He didn't need some pretty-eyed girl ruining his ability to function properly. Hell, not even twenty minutes together and he already experienced a mild panic attack. And for no good reason other than being in close proximity of Clare.

"So," she started after taking a hearty bite of her Danish, "how do you want to do this?"

"What do you mean?"

"Should we do the work by hand or on a laptop?" she clarified. "I'm fine with whichever."

Eli took a sip of his coffee. "I'm more of a pen and paper type of person," he explained. "Plus, it'll be easier to see the shift in writing style that way."

She nodded. "Okay then."

After taking a few more bites of his pumpkin scone, Eli dug through his bag and pulled out a tattered moleskin notebook. For a moment he wavered, wondering if he should use regular loose-leaf paper instead. But he feared he'd lose work that way, especially since he had a habit of hording unnecessary things.

Eli took a breath and then grabbed his favorite ink pen. Without sparing Clare a glance, he began writing.

Sometimes he despises being different. Hates that fitting in comes harder to him. But he figures that if blended into the crowd she would've never noticed him that night. She never would've approached him after their last set and complimented him.

Maybe for once instead of realizing that he's slighter than the other boys that she likes the sound of his voice (however softer it is).

And she does. Strangely enough, she's not weirded out by what makes him different. It fascinates her but it's not the only reason why she keeps showing up every Tuesday night.

At that moment, Eli felt Clare lean in, her eyes rapidly scanning over his messy scrawl with deep interest. He paused and pushed the pen into her hand, ignoring how warm her palm felt against his.

She didn't comment on his work and instead dove right in.

Because what Aiden fails to realize is that he's exactly what a guy should be. There's no need for him to cover up the things he feels he lacks. He treats Beth right and that's what counts.

She doesn't know him as Adrianna. She sees him as the man he's become.

The person she calls when her car breaks down. The boy she shares secrets with at two in the morning. The only one who truly understands her.

Eli raised his brows at Clare when she slipped the notebook over to him. "So we're writing about my idiot best friend's relationship issues for our midterm?"

"You're the one who started it," she pointed out.

He cocked his head to the side and scratched the back of his neck. "And how exactly do you know Adam?"

Clare shrugged. "He lived on the same floor as me last year. Plus, over the summer we both had the same asshole Econ professor."

Something registered in Eli's memory, a fuzzy conversation over the humid summer about an intelligent classmate named "Edwards." He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "You're the Good Samaritan that let him copy off them!"

She grinned. "Small world, huh?"

"No kidding."

It suddenly made sense why he saw Clare and Adam chatting together at the show. And when he looked at her again, she was almost familiar in a strange way. Feeling better, Eli resumed writing, allowing words to spill from his fingertips.

Back and forth they went, bouncing between their thoughts and energy. It wasn't simple, both struggled to meet the other hallway when it came to the flow and style, but it was fun in a challenging way.

As Clare started on their fifth page, her phone vibrated. She took a break and checked it, reading a text message. She rolled her eyes and then began replying.

Giving Clare her space, Eli leaned back from his seat on the stool and was shocked to find the hectic café nearly empty. He hadn't realized how immersed they had been in their own world.

Sighing, Clare capped the pen and handed him the notebook. "Sorry, my friend Alli has this love-hate relationship with chemistry and needs me to mediate."

Hearing the name brought up memories from club, one of a flirty girl with judgmental eyes. "The one you were with before?" he asked carefully.

"Yup." Clare began cleaning up after herself. "That would be her."

Eli pursed his lip thoughtfully. "And she's taking chemistry?"

Clare stopped and looked at him in an understanding way. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking. But the girl is major science geek, believe it or not."

As Eli contemplated how such a thing could be possible, Clare reached across the countertop and scribbled one last thing into the notebook before straightening up and adjusting her hair. "I'm trusting you with our project," she said, smiling gently. "Let's meet up again, yeah?"

Relief and disappointment swarmed Eli all at once, leaving him dizzy. "Yeah, sure."

Clare waved at him once more at the door and then made her way across campus, her stride even and steady. Once she was out of his sight, Eli checked his notebook. On the corner of a page in her slanted but neat handwriting was her phone number.

Eli's stomach dropped.

If he wanted to see her again soon, he'd have to be one to make it happen.