Nothing really made sense anymore. He’d convinced Clare and Jake and Imogen to forgive him finally, but for what? Clare was head over heels for Jake, or so Eli was led to believe, and Jake felt the same. Eli had no one anymore. He’d managed to push Imogen away because he couldn’t get Clare out of his head, even though Imogen seemed to genuinely like him. And now he was back to square one, with nothing but Clare on his mind. What was he supposed to do?

Adam somehow managed to get Bianca to get over her problems with him, which didn’t bother Eli at all, he was really, actually glad for him, but he missed his best friend. He’s been on his own for far too long recently and it was driving him mad. He needed more friends, but it was near impossible to replace Adam and Clare; Adam, who he shared a mutual love for the Goon with, and Clare who understood him poetically, artistically and emotionally. Bullfrog understood in a ‘I’m trying to be your friend here, kid’ way, but Eli didn’t need that. He needed Bullfrog to be his father, and Cece to be his mother. He needed Adam to be his buddy and Clare to be his love. Clare already was his love, but he’d fucked that up royally. Now, there was nothing.

The Dot understood his need for solitude, his need for coffee, dark but sweet, and his need to observe. He liked the window seat, the one in the back corner away from the other customers and chitter-chatterers that spent hours after school drinking lattes with whipped cream and caramel. He hated the superficial ones and he hated the fakers. The ones that smiled like the world owed them a living when they hadn’t lifted a single finger for anyone else in their lives. He stayed away from them. He stayed away from most people, in fact, because his temper was easy to boil over since the purposeful accident.

But one thing he especially didn’t like, though, was the person he locked eyes with when he walked into the Dot. Blue eyes he wished he never had to see again. Blue eyes that weren’t as bright, as full of life as Clare’s ultraviolets. No, he definitely didn’t want to see the same shade of blue as those of Mark Fitzgerald’s eyes. Because he hated him, more than he hated himself, and right fucking now he hated himself a whole lot, just for the fact he walked right into this situation. He thought he was gone. He thought he’d left and would never come back. He sure as hell wasn’t allowed back at Degrassi, so why stay here? Why work where plenty of kids from the same school he’d forced into stupid polos and ugly, non-fashionable khakis go for coffee every morning before they have to pass the metal detectors?

Eli didn’t understand; he didn’t want to. But he did want to expel. “Hey,” he said casually, but you could detect the hostility in his voice by the way it shook just slightly. He leaned against the counter where Fitz was drying a glass. “How’s life outside of the non-educated?” There was the hint of a smirk there. Cruel, he knew, but this was the same person who bribed Eli’s girlfriend to go to the dance with him to end a feud that had nothing to do with her. This was the same person that nearly killed Eli in an abandoned school hallway during a dance that was supposed to be fun. This person is the one that re-opened all of Eli’s old wounds and made him as unstable as he is to this day. Mark Fitzgerald ruined everything.

8 notes // November19th 2011 // 23:00

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