Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi.

This is something. I don't know what this is.

Day one

The sunlight had him in a trance. It squeezed through the small squares of his screen, and settled lightly on the floor of his mismatched shoes. With every passing moment, his room got lighter and he became darker. The light taunted him with flecks of dust and warm energy. He's having a bad morning and his bed looked so inviting and he's done with something that hadn't even been planned or started. He's sick of school, and he wanted to stay home, but his parents would suspect the worst and send him to talk to someone.

His father moved around in the room next to his, and he could hear every little thing; every little noise. Everything was vivid in his world, and everything was nothing and developed. And when his father came in and asked him how he's doing, bud, he said-

"Great. Just…fine."

"It sure is a bright day, isn't it? A nice way to wake up."

"Yeah, real nice."

And the door shut and Eli was back to be alone and he looked around the room and noticed how bare his walls are. He gulped down a breath and slipped on a shirt, thinking about how the particles of dust are more beautiful than he will ever be.

Sometimes, he thinks back to when he was little and his mother and father used to hang up Christmas lights, even though no one was religious in the house. Even though his parents were wild and crazy and liked cheetah print and purple leather, they always bought classic white lights. They'd hang them everywhere and anywhere, including the bathrooms. It was almost their way of saying that they were sorry for not being the average parents, to put something so normal around in abnormal places. But Eli loved the lights. He loved how pure they looked, and how they were brighter with the lights off, unlike him. They always gave him hope when he was too scared to turn on the lights.

And this year is the first year that the lights in the attic go untouched. Every day he checks on them and winces when they're covered with dust and old flakes of odd substances. He knows that he should just put them up, but he knows that part of the thrill of the lights was seeing his parents put them up; them working together and laughing and tripping over wires. It was all a part of the holiday experience.

But he knows that they're tired. He knows that they try to fix him, and they keep him on his meds, but somewhere along the way of piecing him together, they lost themselves. And he'll never forgive himself for that; for changing them.

He has always known that he was not magnificent.

He knows that he isn't anything special, and most look past him with narrowed eyes. He was born odd, and there was always something off about him. He always looked like a predator, waiting for his prey, but little did people know, he was the prey as well. He knows how to destroy himself.

And as he destroys himself, he destroys everyone else too.

And part of him likes the power that comes with destroying.

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He almost wished that he didn't volunteer to cover the Grundy awards. He's just too tired and ever since they called his play an "odd disaster that had no real plot", he sneers at just the mention of them. But he considers this good practice for becoming a journalist, to not be biased. And, actually, he does find some of the stories of the winners interesting. One girl from a few years ago had written a musical about the day in a life of a family, and in the picture, she was pregnant at sixteen. Another, a boy at age fifteen, had painted almost all of the sets. Story after story had mixed together and Eli became fascinated with every teenager. Some had acne, some were large and some were small, some looked happy and others looked exhausted. But, one caught his eye. One picture made him stop completely and stare at the boy that looked no older than twelve, but was really seventeen. His eyes were almost black and he isolated himself from the others in the group shot, and he wasn't focused on the camera; he wasn't focused on anything at all.

He hated that picture of him.

Reading the review again, he didn't wince as much. He actually…agreed with it. Maybe because he could see a bit clearer, but his play did have no real plot. Sure, in the script it did, but the act he preformed was something completely different.

"I always thought that they were being harsh." A voice said from behind him, and he knew who it was just by her perfume. A soft smile crossed his lips and he shrugged.

"Nah, I mean, everything they said was somewhat true. That was a strange time…and play…but I'm proud of it in a way."

Clare wheeled a chair over to him and nodded grimly. "You should be proud of it, Eli. I know that I didn't say anything about it to you, but it was truly stunning. There was no plot when you performed, to be honest, but I don't know why there has to be a plot. It was original, and it was something that Degrassi has never seen before."

"I don't know about it being stunning, but I do take pride in the fact that it was original. Not many people can say that they've set fire to papers on stage." Eli smirked and then smiled when she laughed. She leaned into the screen to read it and her eyebrow rose in disbelief.

"Wow…look at you. And everyone. And…wow. You all look so different. Especially you, Eli." Her finger traced the screen gently and his eyes followed every movement of her fingernail.

"It must be the abundance of eyeliner that I willingly put on." He teased, but he was glad that she could see the change too. The change of being insane to being somewhat okay. The inevitable truth of change; the core of it, how it everything moves and shifts with black lines and erasers.

"Well, the eyeliner is a completely different topic, and we'll save that for another day." Eli rolled his eyes, and Clare leaned back into her chair. "You look more…free there. It's a weird change, but you look less reserved there."

"Yeah, you become less excited to show people your anxiety when you're on meds."

She glanced at the ground, and he wondered if he went too far or too personal for their new friendship. He wasn't sure how to measure when to start sharing information with someone. Often, with people he trusted, the truth slipped out without him knowing. But when her eyes met his with many questions, he knew that he was okay.

"Y'know, I never did ask you about…everything. Everything that you told me in the sweat lodge. I wanted to, but I didn't think that it would be appropriate…not that making out with my boyfriend in there was any better, but-"

"Clare. Please…stop. That was months ago. It's okay. You made out with your boyfriend, that's okay. If you remember, I did just try to get you to back together, so I really was begging for you two to do just that."

Her finger tapped on the desk and she nodded, though her eyes seemed distant and he was shocked at how many different hues there were in her eyes. They were blue and flecked with orange, even though he thought it to be impossible to have orange in eyes. They looked frozen in time, and he wanted to snap his fingers and make her eyes become liquid again.

"But…how are you? And everything?" Her voice sounded like an echo, and he wondered why she was the one that was acting odd. Shouldn't he be the one with grimaced words and broken expressions? And he figured that maybe she was asking because of guilt, or some other reason that he despised. He didn't want to tell her everything for sympathy; he wanted to tell her to tell her, and to share part of him with her. So, he lied. He lied to Clare, just like he had lied to his dad, because there was no point in. There was simply no point in saying how he felt, because he would just be sent to his therapist.

"Great. Fine…I'm great and fine all rolled into one, I guess."

Her smile is genuine, and he almost wished that he had told her the truth, but that feeling quickly dissolves when she got up, and smoothed out her skirt.

"I'm glad, Eli. I really am." He watched her turn around and he zeroed in on her curls. He just needed something to watch, so he wouldn't call her back. "Now, it's time to work. We only have three days including the frostival and ours are the only stories that aren't done."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "The two writers have trouble writing…how ironic." His eyes turned back to the computer, and he tried to flick the switch in his body off; the switch of feelings and thought. He searched everywhere, but all he found was skin and bone, and he was scared that he had to dig deeper.

"What a strange world." She sighed and turned away, and the conversation was over.

"Yeah…it sure is." He said, even though she wasn't listening and she had already forgotten him. He said it to make the last sound, the last word.

And he even agreed to the truth; the world was truly strange.

Day two.

He woke up to a day where the sky was so dark that it could pass for night. It's a day where the light never started and the dark ruled for a while. He liked days like this, days that smelled of rain and cold. It was comforting to him, and he didn't really know why.

"Hey, you up, bud?"

His father's voice echoed throughout his room and he shivered at the words. He was up physically, but not mentally. And he wanted to ask his father if he had yet gotten down the lights, or if he was planning on doing it. But that was irrelevant to everything, so he gave a sharp nod, and his father was gone to start his day.

He pulled back the shades and watched his faint reflection in the window. He looked like anybody else. He looked like a young boy looking out the window. But he couldn't see the dark circles under his eyes and the tired frown on his face. The window did not show him that, and he was grateful.

As he stared out the window, he realized that people were starting their day. The world was rolling on and he had to too. The world was starting without him, and he had to keep up.

Or just take a shower.

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Eli chewed on his eraser and squinted his eyes at the clock, and was relieved when he saw that the school day was almost over. Sure, he still had to go into Clare and work on the paper, but he was looking forward to that. He was looking forward to just the sound of breathing and the clicking of keys. Just like rainy days, the sound of typing made him go still with comfort.

When the final bell rang, he walked quickly out of his classroom and raced to his locker, and quickly got out his notebook of notes and his homework. He wanted to get there before she did, so he quickly walked into the editing room and plopped down at the computer and got to work. The paper was going out tomorrow at the Frostival, and he didn't even begin to start the article.

The door opened and closed and he smiled when he heard a sigh of relief.

"You should really be on the newspaper staff, Eli. You're always on time."

"Yes, but you've forgotten that I cannot write this article for my life."

"Oh, but writing is only a small part!" She winked and Eli felt his stomach drop a bit, but recovered when she sat down at the computer next to him.

"Are you done with your article?" He asked this as a safe topic, but her expression turned cloudy again, and it scared him. She wasn't supposed to look like that. Not when she was just so pumped for the paper a week ago. It wasn't very Clare-like.

"No, and I'm in the same boat as you; I can't write. At all. Nothing. Not even personal things. I just…can't write to anything."

"You have met the cockblock of writing, Clare. Learn to love it. Because, this is how I see it; as your inspiration is at a low point, everything is stirring and processing in your mind and then BOOM- it will soon come back to you and knock your socks off."

"…What will come back to me and knock my socks off?"

"Oh, the inspiration."

"You've turned into quite the optimist, Eli." A quirky smile traced itself on her face, and he felt his cheeks blush for a reason unknown.

"Or, maybe you've turned into a pessimist."

"Touché."

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Day Three

The day was sunny. And he didn't mind. And then, he didn't mind when his father came into his room and said the same thing as usual. This time, he actually answered him with real answers and not just a twist of a neck. Today, he's even happy to see the particles of dust floating around his room with grace. They're just dust, and he's Eli, and he's glad that he's not dust. At least, for now he is.

He ran down the stairs and was surprised to see his mother cooking breakfast. He's used to an apple on the drive, or maybe a bowl of cereal. But the luck of the day was following him and she's making eggs and toasts and every other delicious thing. He set his backpack on the chair and poured himself a glass of orange juice. His father's eyes watched him and Eli could feel the glare in his back.

"Is it okay if I go to the fros-carnival tonight?" He asked and took a drink of his orange juice, but winced at the clashing taste of toothpaste and juice.

"Are you going with Imogen and Fiona?" His mother smiled, and once again, Eli noticed how much she had changed. There was a time where she would make crude words at the thought of him going with two girls, just to make her son blush. But now, she just wanted him to be okay, but the change still scared him.

"No, um…I'm going with Clare."

He heard his mother gasp and his father almost dropped his coffee. That name hadn't been said for a long time, Eli thought. And it felt so strange to say it to his parents that he wanted to say it again.

"To give out the school paper, though." He admitted, and that brought their shock down a bit, but his mother still looked concerned.

"And how do you feel about that? How are you dealing with being with her?"

Eli scoffed at her therapist-like questions. "You know, it was bad at first, because of my bottled up feelings, but now I can add some things of her to my shrine dedicated to her."

"Eli."

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The frostival is crowded and he couldn't stop staring at the newspaper, because his story is on the front page. Screams and shouts are heard and he didn't mind for some reason. It's the sounds of people having fun, and fun sounds nice. Clare stood next to him and took care of the selling of the papers. Mostly, the adults bought them to get something to read, and about an hour in, they still had over half left.

"Would it be counterproductive if we paid people to buy out newspapers?" She asked and Eli laughed.

"I'm thinking that it would be, yes."

The music played and swayed and Eli actually enjoyed the repeating Christmas songs. They made everything a bit more joyful. He saw couple after couple walk passed. Even Imogen and Fiona walked passed with locked hands. Clare looked at him curiously, but he just smiled at her to let her know that…it was okay. And then, he saw Jenna and Jake holding hands. Even Clare looked surprised.

"When did they get together?" Eli asked, and watched Jake lean down to Jenna.

"I could ask the same about Fiona and Imogen." Clare said smugly, and raised an eyebrow at him. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I knew that Fiona liked Imogen but I didn't know that it was mutual. I'm guessing by their handholding that they're together and everything is quite mutual." Eli grinned in disbelief at the sight, and then looked towards Clare. She shrugged.

"I knew that they liked each other, but…I never knew that they'd make it official."

That seemed to be the story of their lives. That was the story of them, and the story of everyone else.

Eli got up and put his hand out for Clare to hold onto. She looked quizzically at it, but took it anyway. Eli told her to forget about the newspapers for a little bit. They deserved a break.

The cold air followed them around, even when they stopped to get cotton candy. Thoughts and wishes weighed heavily on their shoulders and neither said anything. They stayed silent and quiet and-

"Do you think that we could ever pick up where we left off?"

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The lights twinkled even when they weren't on. He had forgotten that little detail about them. He untangled and pulled and she laughed and talked and they did it all together. She put the lights up in the living room and he put them up in the bathroom, and the whole house felt like it was shining with glitter.

They replayed the events of the night. Where they gave the newspaper stand to the rest of the new crew, and they took it with knowing smiles. And she had asked if he wanted to go out for coffee, and he asked her if they could do something else instead. They weren't together, but they had hoped of becoming something in the future, but that didn't matter. Because the lights twinkled and Eli hadn't felt this god in a while.

The dust particles danced with him and the lights sang with him, and he hoped that tomorrow would be a sunny day because he felt okay and the world deserved to feel okay.

He was okay. He really was.

This was supposed to be really good...but then it just sort of sucked. But, I hope you enjoy/enjoyed the episode!