A/N: I know this isn't exactly how the Frostival will happen, and I'm aware that my angsty soul probably over-dramatized, but this is what came out. I hope you enjoy regardless. This is another scenario that I would have been okay with, though I'm so happy things seem to be working more smoothly for them in the Degrassi-verse.

Something short~

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It's cold outside, but Clare Edwards and Eli Goldsworthy don't take much notice. They're walking, consumed in a heated discussion. To anyone glancing their way, it looks as if they might be fighting – fighting with each other, with themselves, with their emotions. Their faces are pained and their eyes are watery, and it's a damn shame that the two lovers are having a quarrel at the best Degrassi event in history.

But they're not fighting, not really. Not with each other. Not even with themselves. Because it's all out there in the open – it's the circumstances they're fighting. The emotion surging through their veins is hot and intense, and their hearts are pounding as they suck up their pride (for once) and allow their mouths to echo every bit of truth their hearts contain. They love each other, but they can't be repaired in the blink of an eye. They're both damaged, both frightened of what may come. There's so much they have to say, and learn, and talk about. There's so much they have to apologize for and there's so much lost time that they might never get a chance to make up for. There's unresolved hurt and hidden desperation and racing pulses because yes, they really are standing that close. And it pains them that after all this time, after every ounce of betrayal or abandon or dishonest moment, one fucking night brings it all rushing back, and they're back to square one. Blue meets green, and so on. It's there, it's all there, and no amount of time will weather it away.

"Eli…"

"I can't just be friends with you, Clare," Eli says, echoing his words from long ago. They sound different, though. Heavy. Brimming over with all of the pain and suffering, and despite all of that – "I love you. Too much for my own good. And this? Clare, I…" She gives him time to gather his thoughts, folding her hands together and watching his face with the utmost concentration. He's shaking a little bit, and she watches as he bites his lip in frustration. "I just…"

And as Clare reaches out to touch his face, time stops. The carnival lights fade, the chatter and laughter around them dies away, and it's simply them standing somewhere between forever and what could possibly be the end. Her gloved fingertips touch his cheek, and their eyes are locked, and god, she hasn't ever wanted to kiss anyone this badly. She sees their entire history reflected back to her in his eyes, and they're so full of pain and questions that for a moment she bears all of his burdens; she feels so close to him in that moment that for the briefest second, all of the pain he's every felt touches her heart and she closes her eyes as tears brim.

One.

Eli places his hand gently over her own, leaning his face into her palm. She could weep with the intensity of the moment, but she's too busy trying to breathe.

Two.

His other hand gently nudges her own, and their fingers slide together, and despite the layers of nylon between their skin, she can feel his warmth. Tears are streaming freely now, hot and desperate. Her throat hurts from keeping in the sobs. Because all she wants to do is fall into his arms and cry. All she wants to do is wrap herself around him; she wants to feel protected and safe and loved. But as soon as she opens her eyes again, she realizes that she's not the only one. It's been a long and winding road, and they're both tired. So tired.

Three.

But there's a fire burning inside of them, however dim. It sparks as they lean closer, flickers and pops, heating them up from the inside out. It's been there from the beginning, and they feel its warmth spread from their very cores to the very ends of their fingertips. It grows bigger and brighter and hotter, and as their lips finally meet, it consumes them. It's gentle, but it's uncontained and she can taste vulnerability on his tongue. His lips are cold and chapped from the wind, but nothing has ever compared, and she presses her body against his softly, looking for solidity and some kind of indication that yes, god, yes – this is real. It really is his hand cradling her face, and his cologne invading her nose, and the warmth of his breath on her lips. It's careful and uncertain; it's not supposed to be happening, but it makes it that much sweeter.

She wants to pull him closer, but before she can get the chance he breaks away and steps back. Just like that, time is moving around them again; the carnival lights flash and the air cracks with tension as their eyes lock.

"I'm sorry," Eli says, and Clare touches her newly heated lips with her gloved forefinger, emotion surging through her.

"That shouldn't have happened." The line sounds rehearsed and forced, because both of them know that's the furthest thing from the truth. "But…I'm glad it did."

Eli smiles softly, and they look at each other, unsure of where to go from here.

"I think that…we need to learn to trust each other again," he finally says, taking Clare by surprise. "I just…" For once, Eli Goldsworthy is at a loss for words, and he shakes his head in exasperation.

"I know," she agrees, nodding. "I know. We need time."

"We have time."

Her hand takes his again, not shyly, or softly, but firmly. She squeezes it once, reassurance and sincerity conveyed in the gesture before she lets it drop. Eli's eyes are full of emotion, and she imagines that hers reflect all of the vulnerability that she sees in them.

They do have time. Not all of the time in the world, but enough. Her mouth curls into a smile. For once in a very, very long time, Clare feels like something good is on the horizon.

A/N: Ta-daaaaaaaaa.

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