Spiral Notebook

by: Spoonvonstup

Rating: PG for brief violence.

Disclaimer: I own everything here. Everyone. EVERYONE!!! MINE! Mwahahahaha! .....ehem..right, you can read on now. ^_^

Summary: Based roughly on happenings in my own life, itÕs a story of love lost before it could begin. But donÕt worry: life came out much better. MUCH better! But, neh, I write nice things when depressed. Anyway, please R/R this bit of floofyness. The help is always appriciated. Enjoy!

He used to sit there, there in the middle of the room. He used to sit next to her. She used to sit there, there in the middle of the room. She used to sit next to him.
Her dark hair would fall over her shoulders, teasingly hiding her face and eyes, eyes that held the world. Dark pools of summer and chocolate into which he fell. she would smile and the room would lighten. And he would smile back.
He doesn't sit there anymore. She doesn't sit there anymore. Not since that Friday.
He takes out a small spiral notebook. Unremarkable, yet one the most important things he owns, it is full. Full of memories, full of her. It is all he has left of her. All he has left...
The book and his regret keep him company. The sun hasn't shone in a month, for he hasn't seen her smile for a month. He is alone in the dark, remembering...

Clara smiled to herself in history class. It was a good day. For the past few weeks, she had been stuck on a emotional pendulum, ranging from hyper to suicidal depression. Not that she'd ever tell anyone it got that bad, but she had gone spans of time where she wondered how it would feel to trip and fall down the stairs. Just one miss-step... But it didn't matter. today, she was on the good side of okay.
Today, she could see Michael. He was next to her, as usual, and that very fact brightened the whole day's outlook. He smelled so good... Her smile widened a bit as she stared blankly at the teacher. Of course she's paying attention...
Michael snuck a glance at Clara out of the corner of his eye. She was smiling at Mr. Hamry, and for a moment he felt a spurt of totally irrational jealousy. But then he let himself enjoy "accidentally" touching her leg with his.
Neither of them shifted position.

The halls were as chaotic as ever on the second floor when the bell rang. Michael and Clara didn't speak, as usual, with only murmured and embarrassed good bye from each of them before rushing off to their respective classes.
Clara turned and stopped a moment, an island in the flow of students, watching to see if he would look back at her. Seconds ticked by... nothing. She turned with a sigh up the stairs. Maybe today wasn't such a good day.
Michael glanced back, looking for someone, but frowned. She'd disappeared. Well, he could ask her later.

Dan and Lexy leaned across the table in the art room, staring at Michael in disbelief.
"You didn't ask her? Man, you're such a chicken."
He didn't look up from his sketch to answer Dan. "Well, I was going to, but I missed her after history."
Lexy raised an eyebrow. "Boy, you are strange. How long have you liked this girl?" Michael blushed. "Exactly. So, what are you waiting for?"
He looked up at his friends, helpless. "Alright, alright. I'll get her after school. Don't worry."
He continued sketching but each stroke of his pencil whispered "rejection, rejection, rejection..."

"Stupid boy! What is he waiting for?" Clara muttered to herself as she set her books down. How long had she liked him? A year and a half already. And yet after all this time all her prodding and not so gentle hints, he still tortured her!
Would he ever make up his mind? All she wanted was for him to give her some clear sign, not this fuzzy wavering. There were moments when it seemed he liked her just as much as she did, and others...
She didn't know and she probably never would the way that stupid boy kept going on and on, confusing her so! didn't he realize what it did to her?
She sighed and scanned the parking lot for signs of her approaching parent and found none. She was convinced that the day could only get worse when someone unexpected plunked down beside her.
"Hey," said Michael calmly, looking at her with his beautiful blue eyes.
"Hey there," she returned, smiling just as calmly.
The sun shone down through the clouds.
"Waiting for your folks?" Clara nodded. "Me too." she smiled again and his tongue stopped working.
Clara breathed deeply, inhaling that cologne. Up swings the pendulum.
Michael bit his lip, wondering how to phrase his question. "You doing anything this weekend?"
Inside, Clara was a tense emotional coil, but her features remained nonchalant. "Not really. You?"
Pause. "Well, it depends. Dan and Lexy and I were going to see a movie this weekend, but I don't know if I want to hang around those two love birds." He grimaced jokingly and smiled.
"What? A smooth boy like you? You don't like PDA?" Clara grinned, enjoying the tease but longing for him to Get To the POINT!
It depends on who's doing it... "Not when I have to endure it alone." He glanced at her quickly out of the corner of his eye. "You want to tag along?"
Yes! There it is! Finally! But keep cool... "Oh? Do you need my protection?" Michael grinned sheepishly. "Alright then. Who, when, where?"
"Well you can meet us at the movie theater on Friday at 7:00. That way we have time to buy popcorn and all that good stuff." She said yes! Woo hoo!
A dark sedan rolled up to the curb and Clara's mom waved at them through the window. The girl got up and smiled at Michael. "See you Friday."

Friday night, and Michael looked fine. He stood outside the blue Odeon Theater with Dan and Lexy, waiting for the last member of their party. He checked his watch. Still not 7:00; she had time. Another glance told him that Dan and Lexy were too involved with each other to notice his discomfort.
He shook himself. Nothing to worry about. she'll be here. But the cars kept shooting by, their whooshing sound whispering, "rejection, rejection, rejection..."

Clara sat tense in the car, wishing her mom would hurry up. She glanced up at the clock the thirteenth time that minute. Still not 7:00; she had time. But what if he didn't wait for her! What if they just went? What if...
She shook herself and realised they had arrived at the parking lot across the street from the theater. She grinned at her mom, said thanks, and jumped out of the car, eager to cross the street.
And on the other side was Michael, smiling and waving at her. The light changed to the walking green man and she smiled back at him. He was there, he had waited, he might just feel the same way for her as she did for...
Her thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched squeal of breaks to her right. the last thing she remembered seeing was Michael's contorted face of terror and disbelief before her world exploded in pain. Then, nothing.

Time slowed down as he watched the car run into Clara, his beautiful Clara. Then, the sound came back and he couldn't get to her crumpled form fast enough.
But the sight in front of him stopped him in his tracks. Clara lay in a clear spot in the street, surrounded by glass, her brown hair sticky with blood. Regardless of it all, Michael fell to his knees at her side and gently laid her head in his lap.
"Clara? Clara, are you there?" he asked, his voice a strangled whisper. "Please Clara, open your eyes. Come back. Please. Please.. Please....."

When Clara returned to her senses, she was only aware of the mind numbing pain: the vice around her chest, the throbbing head, the screaming limbs, the blurred sight. It took a few moments for her eyes to focus and for her to hear what was going on around her.
"Michael?" she whispered.
His eyes opened and he smiled at her. A tortured smile. "Clara! I thought, I thought..." He cut himself off. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're going to be alright."
Clara smiled weakly and her eyes closed.
"No Clara! Please, open your eyes! Don't go to sleep! You can't leave me." His voiced cracked as he tried desperately to convince her to hold on. Her eyes opened again. "But it hurts so much. Let me sleep, let the pain go away..."
He stared at her in disbelief. "Don't say that! Please, you've got to hold on until help comes. If you fall asleep..." He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut but tears came unbidden. "If you fall asleep, you might not wake up." His voice dropped down to almost nothing. "Don't leave me alone. Not now."
A hand touched the side of his face. "Michael, please don't cry." He opened his eyes and held Clara's hand to his face. "Just tell me, why did you take so long?"
His eyes clouded in confusion and guilt. "I don't know. i was just so afraid I wouldn't be good enough for you, that you wouldn't want me, that..."
"Shhh..." She smiled at him. "Silly boy, do you know how much I've wanted you?" But her smile turned to a grimace of pain.
Michael held her close. "Clara. I've been so stupid. I just wish I could have, could have..." He couldn't finish and just held her while he cried.
"Michael?" He looked up at the whisper in his ear. "Michael, will you do something for me?"
"Anything."
"Kiss me. I don't want to go without kissing you."
Unaware of the crowd gathered around the pair in the street and of the approaching siren, Michael bent and tenderly kissed Clara, imbuing the moment with all the love and longing of the past year. And when he let her go, she smiled and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "You know, I think I may have loved you..."
Her voice trailed off, and she was gone. Michael was left alone; alone with his grief and his memories, slowly rocking her limp body back and forth.

The next days were all a haze of anguish. The only part Michael could remember clearly was her funeral. All her family and most of the school had attended, but he hadn't had the heart to say anything. A close friend of hers had approached him sadly and left a small spiral notebook at his feet.
"She would have wanted you to have this. She's been writing in it for the past year." She paused. "It's about you."
Michael looked up wearily and took the book with quiet thanks.

He used to sit there, there in the middle of the room. He used to sit next to her. She used to sit there, there in the middle of the room. She used to sit next to him.
She would smile, and the room would lighten. And he would smile back.
He doesn't sit there anymore. She doesn't sit there anymore. Not since that Friday.
He takes out a small spiral notebook. Unremarkable, yet one of the most important things he owns, it is full. Full of memories, full of her. It is all he has left of her, all he has left.
the book and his regret keep him company. He is alone in the dark, remembering. Remembering a love that was ever at his fingertips, a love that died before it began...