☆

CLARA CLUTCHED A SMALL LEATHER BAG IN HER TREMBLING HANDS as she skulked outside around by the garage. She had packed up all of her things that had been brought to Arrow House, including her gun which sat atop some clothes glinting menacingly and tauntingly towards her. In the far distance, the sun was beginning to sink, its orange glow blinding and overwhelming. The girl leaned against one of the cars, awaiting for her cousin to exit the home. She knew he had to go to London to help sign Ada back into the Shelby Company Limited.

Clara knew he would be out of the house in a matter of minutes.

The girl's face hardened as her cousin appeared from around the corner, his lips pursed around a cigarette as he waved out the lighter flame. Clara observed silently as he approached the cars.

"You're taking me to London," Clara suddenly spoke up coldly, as she watched Michael falter in his steps.

"Clara! Does Tommy know you're out here?" He asked in amusement as he lowered his cigarette.

"What do you bloody think?" She snapped, "I'm coming with you to London. I'll stay with Ada."

"And...does Ada know this?"

"Use your bloody brain, Michael,"

Michael leaned against his car while his eyes flickered over her weakened state. From her trembling hands to the darkened bags beneath her eyes. She didn't look like the Clara he knew.

"You have to stay here," Michael shook his head as he pinched his nose. "You're sick, Clara, Tommy has doctors on call here. I'm sure you can leave in another few days."

"You don't get it! I won't be able to leave unless I take my chances now." Clara scornfully remarked. "And fuck the doctors, they don't know what they're talking about half the time."

"You sound like a child, you do understand that you almost died, yes?"

"How original! You sound just like him! I'm not a child. I'm fully in control of what happened. The past is the past and I'm sick of being told that I don't understand what I did. I do! I understand perfectly fine and I fucked up. Oops, my bad!" Clara raised her voice, "but now I'm okay. I'm not a sickly little child. I can make my own decisions."

Michael raised a brow at her words causing the girl's frustration to grow.

"Look, if I stay here, I'm going to die," Clara huffed, "and I don't mean that hypothetically, I mean it literally. This house is...it's a curse. It's the labyrinth made and designed to trap me whilst a monster roams its halls, waiting for me to slip up."

"I presume Tommy is the monster in this case," Michael hummed, inhaling another breath of smoke. "He's a hard man but not a monster."

"You don't see the same man I see, Michael," Clara argued, as her voice lowered. "but then again you're a man, you'll always get a different version of Thomas Shelby." She paused in her words. "I need to get out of here. If that means going to London then so be it. And don't you dare say you're not going, I know you are."

"I am," He eventually sighed, he scratched his head in contemplation. "Fine. I'll take you, but on the basis that you call Thomas when you're in London, or get Ada to call him."

"I'm eighteen years old, for Christ's sake!" Clara burst, "I don't need permission to leave. I just need a ride up there. Look, are you going to take me or not? Because if you aren't I'm just going I have to puncture your tires and then steal Arthur's car."

Michael chuckled as he stamped out his cigarette. He opened the car door and gestured to the inside. Clara's eyes lit up in hope.

"Get in then," he huffed. Clara's eyes widened and she slowly moved toward the car and climbed in. Michael slammed his own door shut as he started up the car. "Oh, Tommy is gonna have my head."

"Join the club," Clara sighed as she sunk back into the leather upholstery. "We convene every Tuesday and Wednesday."

"Oh, hah, hah," Michael dryly mocked, Clara didn't smile as he joked she merely remained straight-faced. She leaned her head out the window as Michael started the car and pulled out of the garage and past the courtyard. Her head turned as she watched the double doors to Arrow House open revealing John, and Arthur leaving with Tommy standing firm in the doorway like the King of his bloody palace. She watched their faces contort upon noticing her head and hair hanging out of the car. She could see John elbowing Arthur and pointing towards the distancing car.

The girl thrust her arm up, her fist clenched and her middle finger raised toward her brothers as the car continued into the countryside, leaving the miserable fortress of Arrow House far behind.

☆

CLARA ALMOST KISSED THE GRAVEL OF THE LONDON GROUND...that was until she saw Polly Gray storming towards them with an unreadable expression across her face. One that sent shivers down Clara's spine. The older woman's lips were pursed, her hat firm on her head as she stopped in front of Michael and Clara.

"You are supposed to be in bed, girl," Polly tutted, her hand drifting up to brush her thumb just below the scar on Clara's cheekbone. The girl was tempted to sink into the warm touch but instead, she found herself flinching away. She didn't deserve such warmth.

"I would've rotted in that bed if I didn't leave," the girl grumbled, her hands being swallowed by the cuffs of her cardigan. She pulled away from the woman, ignoring the glance shared by Michael and Polly as she made her way towards Ada's front door. She knocked out of politeness but opened the door and waltzed in nevertheless. Her sister stood in the doorframe leading to the living room, her arms folded over her chest but her eyes widened remarkably at the sight of Clara in the hall.

"Oh, hello!" Ada rushed forward to hug Clara. "I didn't know you were coming!" Clara wanted to sink into the familiarity of the hug but she couldn't. Her body was shaking again. Her mouth was dry and her body hot and uncomfortable. The collar of her shirt was suddenly rather ill-fitting and scratchy.

"Neither did I," Poll hummed as she took off her hat and placed it on the stand beside her jacket. The older woman paused to look at the youngest Shelby girl with stern eyes.

"I'll be upstairs," Clara suddenly announced, her loud voice causing her to shrink inwards. She didn't wait for a response before she sluggishly climbed the stairs. Her family could only watch until she disappeared out of view before they moved into the living room to proceed with their business. Usually, Clara would've had to join them, but she technically wasn't meant to be there at all, so...no harm, no foul?

Clara's fingers glided over the flower wallpaper as her feet dragged along the wooden floor towards the not-so-guest room that she had taken over during her London stay. The room was at a standstill. It was untouched from the last time she'd been inside it. The duvet was rustled and tucked into each side of the mattress half haphazardly, shoes lay strewn by the wall, and a very thin layer of dust gathered on the glass of her mirror. The girl felt her stomach knot as she entered the room and shut the door quietly. Her feet danced over the creaky floorboards, each step precise and clever, all a part of the pattern she'd crafted to create the least amount of noise.

Clara knew Tommy had seized her blue bottles in Small Heath, but given the state the room was in, she correctly assumed that her London room had gone untouched. She crouched beside her set of drawers, her fingers reaching beneath the wood. The tips of her fingers brushed against a wooden slat beneath and pulled out two blue bottles of snow. The bottles were taunting and luring her in as she withdrew her hands from beneath the drawers. She tilted her head as she examined both vials that shook precariously in her hands.

Without a second thought, she slipped both bottles deep into her pockets.

☆

CLARA WATCHED FROM HER WINDOW as Michael and Polly drove away from the London home. The girl allowed the curtain to fall back into place as she moved towards her door. She quietly crept down the hall as she heard Ada humming faintly in the drawing room. Clara found herself slowly descending the stairs, her coat pulled over her body as he hands clutched her gloves.

"Hey," Ada spoke up as she leaned against the drawing room's door frame. "I was wondering when you were going to magically appear!"

"I took a nap," Clara lied, although she was sure the bags beneath her hollow eyes were a dead giveaway.

"He called, y'know," Ada tentatively told her as she folded her arms over her chest almost protectively.

"Who did?"

Ada's eyebrows furrowed at the girl's monotonous tone. The woman scanned the girl's appearance, taking in both her coat and boots and the hollowness of her eyes.

"Tommy." She stated apprehensively, "He's worried about you." Clara tried and failed to hold back a scoff. Thomas Shelby worried about her? Unlikely.

"No, he's not worried about me. He's worried that he's losing control over me."

"Clara, maybe you don't want to talk about what happened and I can understand that—"

"Can you now?" Clara snapped back as Ada continued to talk. Clara's patience was growing thin and she suddenly felt rather confined to the walls of the home. What was it that Arthur had always said? Trap a wild animal and expect it to try to escape.

"—but you could've died, in fact, John and Finn did see you die!"

"I almost died? I would've never known...it's not as if everyone is so reluctant to let bygones be bygones! it was just one misjudged act. I am fine." She huffed, walking down the last two steps. "I'm going on a walk."

"What? Clara, you can't just run away! Talk to me, I'm your sister for crying out loud!" Ada exasperatedly called after the girl as she approached the door.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," the girl muttered as she opened the door regardless of Ada's protests. Clara stepped out of the home and firmly slammed the door behind her. The cold air nipped at the tip of her nose as she walked down the paved street.

The wind swirled around her as she lowered her head toward her chest to preserve any sense of warmth. Her toes were numb as she strolled down the dark streets, yet she didn't care. She could feel the supposedly light bottles within her pocket and despite their lack of weight, she felt like she was being pulled down. Her hand in her pocket mindlessly turned over the bottles with her fingers, the feeling of them set her alight, her heart racing with each step. There was a contemplation to consume the powder, a contemplation which wasn't easily straightened out. She wanted to just take it and empty both bottles completely. It was an itch left unscratched.

Clara took a swift turn as she straightened her posture going down a side street. She had formulated a plan. A plan to apologise. A plan where her words wouldn't fail her. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against one another as she muttered unspoken words beneath her breath. Her heart thumped out of her chest as the building came into view. Her grip on the bottles tightened remarkably, her knuckles whitening from the tension. The street she walked was quiet for London. The path was lit by the orange glow from the above light posts. She shook her head, her fingers opening and closing repeatedly.

A flare of nausea swept over her as she stopped in front of the building, her eyes focused on the top floor. Clara removed her hands from her pocket and wrung them. She suddenly felt so small in comparison to everything. It was an odd sensation, one that did little to soothe the wildfire of nerves within her body. There was a singular light source that peeked out between the curtains, it was a beacon, one that Clara drifted towards like a moth to a flame.

The ascend to the top floor had caused the girl's knees to shake and her chest to heave. The climb had taken so much out of her, her body not yet used to the vigorous exercise. The lack of strength and her anxiety-ridden mind had caused her body to be forced into a state of trembling. As she reached the final landing, her hands gripped the bannister as her head spun and pulsed. Her head lowered slowly to her chest as she took shallow breaths in and out before she approached the door ahead of her.

This was it.

And as Clara took a deep breath in, she raised her fist and knocked.

☆

THE SILENCE WAS UNBEARABLE. It was a still and hostile silence. A silence that could kill. It felt like the walls had closed in and encased the small kitchen table until the two occupants were forced into an unusually unbearable proximity. She felt trapped. Clara's hands were clasped on her lap, her eyes cast downwards in shame. She had long forgotten her rehearsed words, the words being drowned beneath the sea of her disorderly mind. She had practised up on until the moment that door had opened and once it had, every black and white suddenly turned trivial, an explosion of lustrous colour that hid all juvenility.

"Clara,"

It was Nadia's gentle yet determined voice that snapped Clara out of her thoughts and out of the depths of silence. The Shelby girl's blue eyes flickered towards the welcoming hazelnut of Nadia's.

"You said you wanted to say something," Nadia reminded her. Nadia's voice was tired, her eyes had been dimmed. Clara scanned the way the other girl sat so casually yet so in tune with everything around her.

"Yeah...I want to, no, I have to say something," Clara corrected herself. She took a shaky breath in, her hands now pressing against the fabric of her pants. "I'm sorry."

"Clara," Nadia sighed as she shifted in her seat,

"Not just sorry, but incredibly so. My actions weren't excusable and I fucked up." The girl let out a short ramble.

"Clara, last time I saw you, I told you, that you either talk with me the day after or within the week. I said I wouldn't wait any longer than that." Nadia's words were strict but kind. "That was two weeks ago. Two weeks without contact from you. I took it as a sign."

"I know...I know," Clara repeated herself, suddenly feeling a lot more aware of the clothes on her body and the heat in the room. "And I can explain...if you'll let me, please." Nadia gestured her hand for the Shelby girl to continue, Clara let out a quiet breath of relief. "I think I'm insane. Like not daring or brave or exciting but clinically insane. For the last year, I've been hearing voices, voices that haven't spoken. I've been seeing people...people who are long dead. I've started taking more snow to just keep everything at bay and it worked. I had it under control."

Clara paused as her next words caught in her throat. She didn't lift her gaze from the table. "The day after I was arrested, I had a dream. And in this dream, I did something unforgivable, something criminal. And I was woken up by my brother, except I had already been awake because all of a sudden I had been jolted onto the streets of my home staring face to face with something I couldn't even recollect doing." She continued,

"It's as if my brain simply shut off and allowed the mechanics to take over. I have no recollection of what happened until that point in time," Clara hid her hands beneath the wooden table. "And then I did something stupid. Something that inhibited me from being able to contact you...so I'm sorry. I truly am."

"I believe you, I believe that you're sorry. I can see it so visibly, even from the moment you walked in." Nadia's words were soft and welcoming. "And I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't tell me about the voices or the people...but, Clara, you have to know that this isn't good."

Clara swallowed nothing as she bobbed her head slightly.

"You are good... you are so good, but this feeling of reliance that I feel is...it's unhealthy. You've turned into the sweetness I crave but the bitterness I am left with." Nadia murmured, her hands clasped together on the table. "And before, perhaps, we could make it work because we lived on similar pages within the gaps of sentences, but now you're starting a new chapter, I can see it...And the sad fact is, so am I."

Nadia paused slightly as she watched Clara remain rigid in her seat. A twang of pain resounded around her heart, her eyes glistening under the dull light.

"I think I gave you that ultimatum because deep down, I knew you wouldn't talk to me that morning or even that week. I just needed to give you another chance in hopes of any salvation." Nadia's eyes flickered over Clara's defeated form. "Because the truth of it is, is that I love you and I have loved you for months now...but this isn't good—for you or for me... I needed a reason for this to stop because even I can't entertain the idea of us, together, as of this moment in time."

Clara's eyes snapped up to meet the desolation that swam in Nadia's. The Evans girl looked miserable, Clara had never seen her half as upset as she was now. It made the Shelby girl feel even worse than she had. Nadia was strong and resilient yet Clara had hurt her. Clara had hurt her so much.

"I love you, Clara Shelby, but I can't throw my love at someone who doesn't know who they are...or who can't see their purpose." Nadia's voice cracked as Clara bit down on her lip while she allowed the Evans girl to speak. Nadia was beginning to get more and more upset as her lip trembled carefully.

"You see there's this artist...Modigliani. He paints these incredible portraits, but he never paints their eyes. Something about him saying "when I know your soul, I will paint your eyes." Nadia spoke carefully and calculated as if she had mulled over this very conversation for a lot longer than Clara had. "I think that if I tried, I could try to paint your eyes, but I also think that you couldn't paint your own. And I think that you know it too."

"Well...then tell me, what is my soul like?" Clara broke her solitude. Her voice sounded a lot hollower than it should've been. "What purpose can't I see?"

Nadia stood from her seat and moved to gently lower herself on the seat beside Clara, her hand reached out and rested on the Shelby girl's shaky ones beneath the table. Clara welcomed the warm touch, its softness soothing any pain with ricochets of glee.

"You know, I can't tell you who you are, Clara, that's for you to figure out." Nadia whispered, "it's a phenomenon only you can understand, I can't guide you through this part."

Clara's head dropped to her chest, every single word she'd rehearsed had now been completely demolished, swept away with everything precious. She placed one of her hands atop Nadia's, encasing the warmth.

"I was too late, wasn't I?" Clara solemnly asked, "I had a chance and I fucked it up...I tend to be doing that a lot these days."

"This was bound to happen," Nadia dismissed the girl's worries as her thumb rubbed mindless circles on Clara's hand.

"It didn't feel like it,"

"No...no, it didn't."

The two girls sat in complete silence, the incessant London quiet and merely white noise in the scheme of it all. They sat with their hands tightly grasping one another to tether them to the weightless world.

The sharp melancholy pierced them so ruthlessly that not even fondness and longing could protect them from the bitter wound. The apartment was hushed, even the creakiest of floorboards and the hands of the ticking clocks seemed to pause to mourn. To mourn the laughter, the joy and the love the two shared. All was quiet, the two girl's deaf to everything but the reverberating beats of their synchronized hearts.

Nadia had been right. This was bound to happen, and although Clara tried to ignore it, deep down she knew. It wasn't fair for Nadia to keep waiting for someone who had long gone in another direction. It wasn't fair to keep maintaining a sweet love that only ever resulted in a bitter consequence. And despite the overwhelming adoration Clara felt for Nadia, it wasn't fair to expect the London girl to be there at the drop of a hat whenever Clara needed her.

"It's late, Clara, you should go home," Nadia was the one who broke the silence once more. The Evans girl stood and placed a hand on Clara's shoulder. She softly drew the Shelby girl towards her, so that her head was resting against her stomach. Clara exhaled, her limbs loosening as Nadia's fingers caressed the top of her head.

"I love you," Clara's voice was muffled, she didn't dare look up. If she did she'd fear that the tears would begin. And Clara Shelby didn't cry often. She didn't like to cry, yet now she felt like she could cry for days without end if given explicit permission to.

"I know," Nadia spoke in a hushed tone. Clara pulled away unwillingly, her bowed head carefully lifting. The two girls separated from one another quietly, the gold and cerulean of their respective eyes clashed like a sea against the shore. They searched for any notion of resistance...yet they found none. Clara moved silently towards the door, her shaky hands on the brass handle.

"We'll meet again. I'm sure of it." Nadia whispered as she caused Clara to pause in her actions. "Our story isn't quite over yet, Shelby."

Clara pressed her lips into a line and nodded halfheartedly. "I'll come back for you," she silently promised, before she showed herself out of Nadia's apartment. She had a reason to come back now. She would seek out Nadia even in her dying breath. She wanted to believe that Nadia's words were true because after all, even the greatest of stories must pause before the second instalment. This was merely the pause in which their new story was to be crafted.

Clara Shelby wouldn't be letting Nadia go that easily. Not when she held the Shelby's heart in a tight grip along with all her thoughts. Not when she'd ensnared both her body and soul. Clara would come back for her. Because Nadia was the sweetest temptation in the Garden of Eden and Clara would gladly reap her consequences thousands of times over just to be able to spend each second of her life with Nadia.

The Shelby girl's lengthy walk home was a blur, one spent falling in and out of clear consciousness. Her coat was lighter than before and it wasn't until she collapsed against Ada's door did she realised just how jaded her mind was. She didn't notice how fucked she was over this situation and sadness mixed with determination is never a good combination. Her mind was afloat, higher than her plain of understanding. Her body felt light and airy, her limbs limp and unmovable and when Ada opened her front door to the loud noise, Clara fell forwards into her.

"Clara!" Ada exclaimed, her hands immediately wrapping around the girl's body to stabilise her. The woman's eyebrows pinched together.

"Ada I fucked up..." there was a pause as Clara's voice broke.

"I fucked up..."

☆

HELLO MY GORGEOUS READERS! HOW ARE YOU?!

It's been a while since I've updated, I know! I've had exams and I've been completely overwhelmed with schoolwork and study and other minor issues, but here it is!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, AND OML NADIA AND CLARA BROKE UP?!? I love Nadia so much, and I wholeheartedly believe she is Clara's soulmate. She knows Clara has to grow as a person before they can fully accept one another and I LOVE HER!

Anyways, thank you for reading, I love you all and here's your weekly meme!