The Elites

epilogue

Clark could feel his world tilting off of its axis. Whilst he stood tall and steady, inside he felt as if he was tipping over the edge into a dark oblivion. He didn't know what to do as he stared at his desk, at nothing in particular. The ticking of the grandfather clock on the other side of the room was the only noise other than the ringing that met his ears. His knuckles were white as he held onto the edge of his desk for dear life. The cream envelope sat in the center, with his name scrawled in that hauntingly familiar handwriting. He had been in that position for almost three hours, desensitized to the world around him.

He missed her. He missed her. He missed her.

Clark had sprinted as fast as he could from his stupid awards ceremony to the courtyard where he knew she was going to be. He dodged his father, his mother, his siblings, his coach, his teammates, and his peers as he set off with only one person in mind.

Blake.

But when he skidded to a halt in the courtyard, he knew it was too late. His three best friends watched him in surprise, carefully observing Clark's blank face. Nico was the first to move, walking up to him and giving him a silent hug. Clark didn't need to be reaffirmed about her departure, it was all in Nico's eyes.

Nico had silently handed him the envelope, the smallest of whispers to ever leave his lips as he said, "She told me to give this to you."

Clark couldn't remember what happened after, only that he was once in the courtyard and now in his dorm.

He let out a shaky breath, before slowly reaching for the letter and peeling it open, careful not to rip the paper.

He retrieved the thin stationary from the paper, and almost laughed at the sight of the indigo ink that undoubtedly came from her favorite pen. She would always claim that the pen was only for important things, so the familiar shade of blue caused Clark's weathered down heart to painfully palpitate.

He took a deep lungful of air before unfolding the paper and beginning to read.

Dearest Clark,

     By the time you're reading this, I'm probably going to be gone. I know it must seem like I'm running away, but I've finally realized that I'm not. I'm freeing myself. I'm taking a risk that I hope will one day prove to be worth the pain.
     I want to start with an apology. I'm sorry for lying to you about leaving. I'm sorry for keeping secrets. I'm sorry for messing with you all the time. I'm sorry for pranking you constantly. I'm sorry for the never ending sarcasm. I'm sorry for harassing you as a child. I'm sorry for hitting your nose constantly whenever you'd bother me. I'm sorry for calling you stupid, idiot, asshole, and all the other creative names I had reserved just for you. I'm sorry for making you break your ankle in Ghana.

Clark paused his reading to let out a strained laugh, feeling utterly surprised at her remorse for tripping him. Because he distinctly remembers how she had laughed so hard at Clark's ankle injury that she ended up falling onto the ground clutching her stomach in utter joy. 

I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for easily falling into your trap. I'm sorry for not distancing myself from you when I had the chance. I'm sorry for how we ended. But I'm not sorry for falling in love with you.
     You see, that's the thing about love. I've learnt that no matter how hard it is or how much it hurts, you wouldn't want to forget it or apologize for it or even regret it. I don't regret our love.
     Even though it ended with me getting hurt, I would do it all again because that's just how much I love you. See? All the pain and heartbreak, yet the love will always be there, running through my veins and infiltrating my dreams. Our love was different, it was the type of love I had dreamt of. I never thought it would be with you, but it was. What I felt for you was something completely different than what I would ever expect to feel. But maybe that's just how love works, you feel different feelings with every person.
     With Parker it was like candy floss. Sugary sweet, airy, and leaves the smallest of traces when dissolved. But with you, it was like a shooting star. It was something we'd almost been waiting for, shining and bright, rare, beautiful, and strong. You were my shooting star, you'll always be my shooting star.
     I want this letter to be a goodbye, because I feel that I wouldn't be strong enough to do one in person. I wanted to curse you out, hit you, yell at you but I couldn't bring myself to it. I wanted to write all of my anger down and make you read it, but once again I couldn't. Because that's not how I truly feel.
     Clark, we were a shooting star. A bright flash that suddenly disappeared, almost as if we never even existed in the first place. But I saw that bright flash, I know that it was there and that's good enough. Maybe one day when the pain is gone, we will see each other again. Maybe one day we can hit unpause. Or maybe one day we will just be two strangers. I don't know what the future holds for us, and I don't want to control the future. I've learnt that controlling the future is what leads to pain, hurt, and angst. The two of us would know.
     So Clark, this isn't adieu. This is à plus tard. Because I know that in the world we live in, we won't not cross paths, if that makes sense. I'll see you on newspapers and fan edits and you may see me on some stupid magazine. But screens and papers won't be the last we see of one another, I'm sure of it. Thank you for giving me the chance of love. You'll always have a spot in my heart, Ellington. See you on the other side, Clarkwell.

Avec amour,
Graham

Clark once again, stared. His dark green eyes boring into the indigo ink where her name was prettily scrawled. Avec amour. With love. See you on the other side. He didn't know what to say, what to do, what to think. He was left frozen once again by the one and only Blakely Elise Graham.

And that was that.