It had been so long. Days became weeks and weeks became months until each day ran into each other. She lost track of time and lost track of herself. Home felt nothing but a living place, not home at all. Just a place to breathe, a place to exist. That wasn't home. It all became so heavy. Just waking up in the morning was a struggle now, the thoughts weighing her down in the fluffy, blue covers of her bed. Each new day just seemed empty.

Another day was just twenty-four more wasted hours that she felt she didn't even want to live. It's not that she wanted to die, but she certainly wasn't cut out for living.

Who is this woman you may ask? Her name is Clara Oswald.

At the age of twenty-eight she was a beautiful woman with her brunette hair cut right to her shoulders, fringe to the side. She stood at a petite five foot two and had the style of a chic college student. Living in London, surrounded by the city and the wonderful people around her. Clara still hardly found the need to leave her house except to collect groceries.

Maybe it was her own insecurities holding her back or the fact that she still wasn't over the death of her late boyfriend, but she couldn't bring herself to socialize with her friends, if you would even call them that. She needed to go out, she needed to see people. She knew that. So she called someone. A close friend of hers that was always there for her no matter what. Clara called Matt, her best friend. Despite having pushed nearly everyone away when Danny passed, Matt somehow seemed to stay. No matter what, he stuck by her. And for that she was grateful.

Clara woke up a Friday afternoon after a long nap, knowing she needed to leave the house. Picking up her phone, she dialed Matt's number. The line rang a couple times before his cheerful voice sounded on the other end, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's Clara." she spoke softly, her own confidence faltering even through the phone.

"Oh, hey! What's up? Are you alright?" Matt said with a worry in his voice. He knew that Clara didn't often talk on the phone, so naturally he would worry this was an emergency.

"Y-yeah! I'm fine, but I need to ask a favour of you. I need to go out somewhere." Clara explained. When he didn't say anything back, she continued on. "It's been a long time since I was out to a party or a club, and I feel I should go out for once. Could you come with me?"

"Definitely! When do you wanna go? Tonight?" Clara could hear the smile in his voice.

"If you can, yeah. Maybe you could guide me along sorta..? I'm a bit rusty in these areas." The sentence was ended in a nervous laugh. Clara fiddled with the hem of her sweater anxiously, somehow worried this would end badly.

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll pick you up at nine and we'll go to a nice club I know! Dress up a bit, like a cute dress, maybe you could find someone!" Matt teased goodhearted.

Clara laughed in a nervous way before speaking again, "Haha, sure. I'll see you then, bye." They said their goodbyes and the phone line went dead. Oh God, Clara was already regretting it.

//

What was she to wear? She had hardly went shopping in the past year. Clara's closet was filled with over-sized sweaters, hoodies and jumpers. All her dresses were either in storage or buried somewhere in her attic. The last thing she wanted to do was have to go shopping for this occasion so she climbed the tall ten steps to her attic to find her box of old dresses.

The entire room was filled with dust and spider webs. When did she even go up here last? The room was lit by a singular window that looked out onto her driveway and the street. There was a sort of glow coming from the window from how the sun was facing her house so it felt sorta autumn-y upon entering. Clara walked through the room, looking at the boxes of holiday decorations and old clothes. There was a chest of her mothers stuff that sat in the corner of the room. Clara quickly looked away from it and continued searching for her dress box. Sooner or later, she found a big box labeled Dresses. Hurriedly, she ripped the tape off the box and opened it to reveal an assortment of folded pretty dresses that she had long since forgotten about.

Clara knelt beside the box and rummaged through the box. She picked out four dresses, each of the same sort of style, and then she climbed back down the steps, closing the attic door on her way down. Once she laid the dresses on her bed, she stood in front of them with her hands on her hips. Something about the thought of the club made Clara anxious but in a way sort of excited.

In the end, Clara decided upon a short, mid-thigh length black dress with a triangle sort of design on the chest and a black jacket she found at the bottom of her closet. Once she was done with her make up and hair, she called Matt to tell him she was ready to leave and that he could pick her up then.

When Matt showed up, he was slightly taken back at how nicely Clara looked.

"Wow! I forgot you could look so nice!" Matt exclaimed when she sat down in his car and shut the door. "I might just have to buy you a drink tonight." he teased with a wink. Clara knew he was only joking, Matt and her were only friends.

Matt wore something simple, black skinny jeans and a graphic tee-shirt with a black jacket over top of it. He had his brown hair swooped to one side and wore a somewhat mischievous grin when he pulled in.

"Thanks," she laughed, "Can we get going before I change my mind?"

Matt nodded and laughed, pulling out of her driveway and driving down the street.

//

They pulled up to the club, hearing the pulsing beats of the late-night music. Clara's heart sped up, anxiety levels rising and her hands began to shake slightly. "I can't do this, Matt." she mumbled, looking down at her lap.

He quickly unbuckled himself and scooted more towards her to hold her close to him. Clara has had little panic attacks like this around him before and he knew how to soothe her. "It'll be fine, you don't have to talk to anyone if they made you uncomfortable. I'll be with you the whole time, I promise everything will be okay." Matt spoke softly, rubbing her back softly. Clara needed to hear soft words from somebody trustworthy and those words were the perfect ones.

Clara sighed and pulled away from his embrace, slowly unbuckling herself and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Okay, I'm ready.." Matt nodded to her, sticking his wallet and phone in his pocket before opening the door and stepping out. Clara followed suit, closing her door gently and biting her lip nervously. "You'll be fine." he reassured her.

They walked into the club together, Matt leading her through the crowd to a table in the corner where he told her she could sit if she didn't want to be around so many people. "I want to be social though, Matt."

"You can be! It's just a heads up because I know how you can get in big crowds, okay?" Matt reassured her.

Clara nodded, "Okay. Hey, can you get me a drink? I think I'm just gonna sit down a bit before dancing or anything."

"Yeah, just a minute. I'll be back." Matt smiled at her before leaving her at the table alone.

Clara sat down a bit reluctantly, looking over the crowd of moving bodies on the dance floor. There were girls showing too much skin, guys with overgrown beards and too many people grinding on each other than she could possibly count. The situation made her feel too small, too irrelevant in this place. Clara felt as if she was going to concave in on herself, disappear and never return. Looking away from the crowd, she focused on her breathing. Breathing in and out repeatedly until she didn't feel quite so petite anymore.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, thinking it was Matt coming back with her drink. "Oh, hey, you're bac--" she stopped her sentence short, turning around to find a silver-haired man smiling down at her. "Sorry, you must be looking for someone else, sir." she shrugged his hand off her shoulder and looking at the table nervously.

"No, I just saw you from across the room and I thought I'd ask if a pretty lady like you could use a drink?" he grinned at her, a heavy Scottish accent lacing itself between his words. The man was wearing loose fitting black pants and a black hoodie with a red satin-lined suit jacket over top. Somehow his sense of style fitted him, no matter how lazy it looked. Clara could see traces of dried paint stained into his rough hands and she guessed that he was an artist. That would explain the amount of fluffy silver hair that sat atop his head. He had to be a least fifty but yet there was still something attractive about him.

Clara giggled anxiously, meeting his eyes awkwardly before looking away. "Uh.. I already have someone getting me a drink, sorry." she offered a small, apologetic smile.

The man chuckled, "Oh, well, sorry. I'll leave you be then, hope to see you again, lass." he spoke with a smirk before patting her shoulder gently and walking away. He glanced back her once before disappearing into the crowd.

When he left, Clara felt a certain emotion in her chest, some sort of levity. She couldn't figure out what it was but she was feeling some sort of way. And Clara liked the feeling.

"Hey, I'm back." Matt smiled at her when he returned, two beers in his hands. He sat them on the table before sitting across from her. "Anything exciting happen?"

Clara smiled in a foolish way, "You could say that."