It wasn’t uncommon for you to sneak out of your window with your guitar and notebook, climb down the tree outside your window and make your way to his barn next door when inspiration wasn’t running very high. Turns out his little ‘fortress of solitude’ was a pretty good place of inspiration for you, which he really didn’t mind, he loved seeing you work on your songs, tongue stuck out the corner of your mouth and pretty brow furrowed in concentration.

Gorgeous.

Clark’s pen, held between his teeth while he slaved at Chemistry work, just dropped as the click-click of your boots on the worn wood of the barn floor was not lost on him, with your pretty hum. It brought a grin— the Chemistry work was long forgotten with his best friend right here with him, course.

This was like a normal thing at this point, and he knew it was pointless to try and get work done while you were scribbling lyrics down for your next show because he always got distracted looking at your musical genius. Then again, sometimes to get to said musical genius he sometimes had to deal with a slump, where you’d plop your head in his lap, in a sulk cause the lyrics weren’t flowing.

“Hey, Bonnie.” He grinned, tapping the Chemistry work on his lap with his pen, seeing the pen and colourful notebook in your hand and guitar hung from a strap on your back— yep, judging by that look on your face, his evening would be graced by songwriting.

“C’mere, s’wrong?” Clark asked, gesturing you over and patting the bed he was sat cross-legged on— it was always endearing to see you come in with puppy eyes and a silent plea to sit with him, and it wasn’t like he’d ever refuse you, you were too sweet when asking, he’d save you the trouble.

Plus, this Chemistry work was boring, however essential it was, and watching you write was, well, captivating.