The dim lights cast a dark shadow on her tanned skin. She cast yet another glance to the now diminishing crowd, toying with that still fulfilled glass of water in front of her. The bartender didn’t mind her or her encompassing broodiness, neither questioned her want for water when she sat at a perfectly well-stocked bar. Well, may be it had something to do with the fact that she always left a good tip or maybe because she appeared transparent to others.
The said bartender served another whiskey to a tipsy man on her side, who from time and again flashed her a toothy grin which was supposed to win her over something and even had the audacity to order the bartender to serve her a champagne. She was a martini girl, anyways.
Despite the questionable look on his face, he served the drink on the counter. Which looked tempting. There was a certain dryness in her throat and she almost reached out to it, but the yellow band on her wrist was an astute reminder. Of what she was then and who she was now. Sober. 2 years and 10 months.
Drinking up the water in a gulp, she grabbed her jacket and scarf and paying her tip as usual she brisked out of the bar, much to a certain someone’s dismay.
Winters in Vancouver, despite their glory were harsh, something Lexa didn’t mind too much. It felt almost familiar. It was a bleak starless night and it was nearing to midnight. With no cab in view, Lexa decided to walk the few blocks home, tightening the jacket around her ribs.
Her cheeks were flushed, there was a mild gash on her forehead and her lip was bleeding, all in a moment’s notice. Green eyes shut down on the impact.
The stranger stumbled upon, no rather directly ran into Lexa, knocking her harshly on the hardened pavement, her elbow jabbing rather unpleasantly onto Lexa’s ribs, who gasped out in sheer pain. The stranger immediately got up from the still hurt woman stammering out apologies,
“I’m so sorry. Oh God, I’m so very sorry, I didn’t see....I..” but the rest came out in muffled cries. Something about her life being rather awful and an evening torture of a bad date. And by the time Lexa looked up, it was already raining in the blues.
No sooner Lexa was trying to stand up her ground, “it’s alright, it’s fine” words almost on the tip of her tongue, a warm hand cascaded her waist saving her from making another stumbled step.
The forlorn, hurt look on the blonde’s eyes made something in clench inside Lexa. Teary blue eyes said she was sorry like the nth time and Lexa knew she meant it. It was okay, she wanted to say. Rough night for both of use, she wanted to add but withheld.
Weighing her support on her right leg, Lexa spoke out as softly her voice could say, “I always did fall hard for pretty girls.”
The words seemed to have startled the stranger from her musing and forlornness, as if puzzling her by the look on her face and Lexa thought maybe she shouldn’t have said it but the small laugh that escaped her lips was somewhat worth the pain that was creeping inside her.
“I’m fine. Really.”
“The gush on your head and the limping in your leg says otherwise. Not to say that your ass is going to hurt like hell tomorrow.”
The cold breeze was assaulting her cheeks like ice arrows but the warm body that was pressed against her was acting like her own body heat, so close that Lexa had almost forgotten what it was like to be invaded of personal space.
After some moment’s pause, “I’m a nurse and my apartment’s just around the corner. You need to get checked just in case, it’s the least I can do for you.”
Almost within a blink, she found herself on the 2nd floor outside her apartment number 049.
“I would have it would have been nicer if me met under better circumstances but what the heck, I’m Clarke Griffin.”
Blue eyes met green.
She woke with un-denying thirst, her throat screaming dehydration in volumes. Her vision was cloaked in blurriness, trying to adjusting to the sudden flicker of sun rays dancing on her face. She almost jolted out when she woke into unknown surroundings but the weight on her left arm prevented her.
She turned to the warm body that was clinging to her arm like a lifeline making Lexa wondered if her arm was dead, it felt pretty numb to her. But Clarke Griffin was sprawled on her couch, snuggled to her side. Her blonde mane spread on her face, almost hiding her dark bags under her eyes. The nervousness and tension, the sad touch on her face was absent. The serenity suited her better, Lexa debated. Lexa didn’t know what came over her but the sudden temptation to touch her won her over as she slowly pulled a strand of her hair off her face, placing in all it’s delicacy behind her ear, so as it not awake her from her slumber.
But despite her best tries, Clarke Griffin eyes flicked open, catching Lexa in her action, freezing her. Lexa felt like a freaking teenager caught sneaking in by her parents late on a school night.
“I...uh...I figured you needed the sleep and uh..the rays was falling..and.."
Lexa didn't feel like a teenager for she was definitely being one at the moment. Her apparent embarassment was cut short by that soft laughter, ringing in her ears like sweet melody. Clarke's thin lips twitching up in the corners into a smile, it was short-lived though lashed with a sudden sadness.
“Good morning, Clarke.”
When Clarke got into her sitting posture, Lexa retracted her seemingly dormant arm, flexing it to see if there was indeed any blood circulation.
“I’m so sorry for ------”
“------ sleeping on you or rather your arm.”
“It’s really okay.”
In the daylight, the yellow band on her wrist shone. Lexa instinctly tugged it in drawing a hundred different conclusions Clarke might be drawing from it.
Clarke noticed the band on her wrist. She had noticed it yesterday. But unlike many, she would draw away her eyes beacuse she knew that the brunette was ashamed of it. It was distinct on her features. Instead, Clarke saw it as a scar, a healed wound, something that reminded her the Lexa was stronger that it. A story. A past.
The silence stretched. Clarke got up and excused herself to the bathroom. The yellow walls of her small apartment seemed to be closing up on her soon enough. Her TV screen was still on, stuck on the credits of “Mamma Mia”, which Clarke had suggested they watch when Lexa had adamantly refused to hijack Clarke’s bed as she settled for the couch. Maybe Lexa should just go now. She had overstayed her welcome. Or maybe Lexa could invite her for breakfast. It was only fair. Or maybe, she should just go. That seemed like the logical option.
Lexa moved herself out from the lain blanket and picked her discarded jacket from the armchair. From her periphery, she could see Clarke staring back at her in times when she thought that Lexa won’t notice her. But she did. And she thought that she saw a look of disappointment flash through her face, but who was Lexa kidding. Maybe she wanted her gone too.
Lexa was somewhat delaying her eventual getting out of her apartment, slowly tying up her laces, hoping for Clarke to say something, hoping for herself to speak out something, but none came. So this was a goodbye, but she didn’t know what to say, I would like to be in contact, maybe? Can we be friends? Can we meet again? May we meet again?
She felt so pathetic of the situation and of herself. So a goodbye and both of them will on their way. Or not. It was only logical and logically meant safe.
Her hand was on the doorknob. And she was almost opening it when she heard a throat clearing. She tilted her head to the left silently accusing her and Lexa felt a tad bit guilty of the predicament.
“I was going to -----“
“leave without saying a goodbye?”
With an underlying tone of betrayal and sadness, emotions that Lexa knew like the back of her palm. The blonde was fluttering her glassy eyes, a sudden emptiness in them which hit Lexa in waves. A story. A past.
Lexa found her voice and she tried to calm it as much as she could.
“I… Want to get breakfast? I’m hungry.”
The silent smile and the biting of lips was her answer.
“Are you alright?”
The words were almost a whisper, she was sure that if she had been sitting on the other side of the small call room and not on the bed, crying upon the shoulders of Lexa, she wouldn’t have heard it.
She had known Lexa for five days now and each day, Lexa was molding herself more and more into her life. The complete stranger whom she had the opportunity of running into, right under the twilight stars, was becoming her confidante, her most cherished friend. Her person. The one she called when reality came crashing down.
Someone who fights away her echoes of the past, wills her to find her shattered pieces to rise from abyss, someone who will not look at her and always ask a why, or how or who. Someone who will go with her flow, someone who will not hold her to some high pedestal. Her person.
Lexa rubbed soothing circles on the back of her exposed neck, humming to some aimless lyric with no melody but it helped calm her nerves, punctuate her erratic breathing. She sniffled into the linen shirt of Lexa’s, the crashing of trays and wheelchairs and the footsteps of the outside world somewhere locked away.
“Nothing’s alright, Lexa. Nothing. Mom’s here.” Abby Griffin was here.
“Mom… she… -----“
Her tear-stricken voice pulled the heartstrings in Lexa’s chest. The story that was always on Clarke’s lips, but she never could find the voice to say it.
“You don’t have to tell.”
It was a miracle that her voice was still so even, even though it was breaking a bit on each sob that leaked through Clarke’s eyes. But Clarke overlooked them.
“About 5 years ago, Dad Jake and I, we were t-boned by some drunkard. Surgery turned out okay and we were both fine or so I thought. But there were some shards of glass, the doctors couldn’t take out from his stomach during the surgery. A year rolled by. I was second guessing by career choice as a doctor and I was already in my third year.
It was the mid-terms and I don’t know what, it happened so fast. I get this call that dad’s had been in surgery and he was in coma and he was brain dead and uh -----“
“You don’t have to tell me now. It’s okay”
Yet again, Lexa’s timid voice was unheard. Clarke was soaking in tears and sweat, turning away from her.
“It’s not okay. She didn’t even tell me or ask me before she pulled the plug on him. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I lost my father that day too but she didn’t care. She didn’t care when I dropped out of med school, she didn’t care when Finn broke my heart, she didn’t care when I left home. And now 3 years later, she’s here asking me to rekindle our relation. Because she missed me? And I had to bare her in that conference room for 2 hours. But I told her I’m fine without her, I----”
Lexa tugged at the blonde’s sleeves but she lay still like a statue facing the wall.
“It hurt to say that I'm fine without her, but I'm. And I'm proud of it.”
Lexa hated herself in that moment to not say the right words to ease her companion just a little bit. It was as if every tear that fell from her eyes, drenched Lexa’s heart. With every strength she had, Lexa pulled her blonde beauty in her embrace, a promise that was left un-worded I’ll be here as long as you want me.
“You are one brave princess, Clarke Griffin.”
Another or two week flies within a blink of an eye. Lexa curls herself on the same old grumpy couch of Clarke’s, snuggling inside the blanket, sipping hot coffee and going through the yellow pages of her Jane Eyre.
From the top of her book, Lexa stole glances at Clarke, who was apparently scribbling something on her pad, her nose all scrunched up, as she chewed her bottom lip as if trying to solve the mystery of Pandora’s.
So annoyingly adorable were the words dancing in Lexa’s mind.
Some 20 minutes later when Clarke had finally left her spot to pay the pizza boy, like a stealth cat Lexa tiptoed through the room towards the apparently sketch pad. Lexa didn’t have so much so a clue that she could draw but as she flipped through the pages, an unknow-est world of charcoal was presented before her, one that made her speechless. Such was their beauty and intensity.
Green eyes held a plea of guiltiness when they were caught.
“You drew me like one of your French girls, Clarke Griffin? Can’t say I’m appalled or impressed.”
Yes, that did earn Lexa quite a strong jab on her hand who even had the audacity to feign hurt. And somewhere along the lines a pillow fight started which resulted in quite a feathery apartment much to Lexa’s amusement. Somewhere between laughter and adorableness, Clarke’s eyes held Lexa’s and blue eyes shifted to the two metal pendants that cling-ed to the chains on Lexa’s.
Lexa and Anya.
The silver pendants clung at the bottom of the chain. Close to her heart. Where Anya will always stay.
Clarke caught the shifting emotions on Lexa and just like that, the moment was gone.
It was the first time since she met Clarke that Lexa dreamt of grey smoke, bloodied hands and resonating screams.
For the next three weeks, Lexa worked clock-work, moving to and fro between her hotel room and Clarke’s apartment. Half of her belongings was already at Clarke’s place and the other half was scattered in her domain of her hotel room.
Lexa wasn’t much of a tidy person, because there wasn’t any need. She was rarely ever in her room and the rest of the cleanliness business was bestowed upon the room service, but today Clarke had decided to pay a visit to her humble abode.
Honestly, she had been itching to see Lexa’s apartment. Why? She didn’t know but Clarke wanted to see it, and it was only fair since Lexa had been to hers. Even when Lexa told her that she lived in a hotel, which was practically the opposite of a home, she had raised her eyebrows so high that Lexa feared they might be stuck there for a long time. Lexa knew she was burrowing herself deeper and deeper into the ground, by caring but somehow it didn’t matter when it was Clarke.
I just wear a power suit, sit in an obnoxiously large room for a single person and dictate people around. That’s all I do, Clarke.
That’s all she had been telling Clarke. Not a lie, per se.
It was a Saturday and the gym was eerily empty. The only sound that was resonating the walls was sound of each punch that she put on the punch bag. Her muscles were starting to ache and her fingers felt as if they might be bleeding but Lexa didn’t ease up her hitting. It felt good to bleed, it was as if she was addicted to pain. Warm blood curling through the folding of her glove, memories were flooding her eyes.
It’s okay, Lexa. Let go. Just let go, Lexa… Lexa
I’m sorry. Costia. No. Anya?
The voice almost felt distant until it dawned upon her. Beth. Her housekeeper. Her wrinkled old face almost drooping all over her.
“Of course. Who am I?”
“Humor me, Miss Alexandria.”
“You are Beth, my housekeeper. 68 and still going strong. Happy?”
“Ecstatic, Miss. You have a visitor.”
It wasn’t until then that her eyes feels on her blonde visitor lurking by the end of her bed. She had a stoic mask on her face, her stare almost unnerving Lexa.
“I’m fine, Clarke.” When the blonde scoffed at the blatant lie, Lexa even added, a Really, to stop her from unnecessary worrying.
“Both of your hands are bandaged so keep your hand activities to the minimum. And I ordered you Chinese and do take your medicines periodically.”
There was no emotion nothing in her voice as she spoke like a professional and it knocked the air out of Lexa. Her eyes followed ever movement of Clarke, as she set up her food and pills and slowly picked up her purse and coat to leave.
It was almost a plea. A request.
“Why not? It turns out we are not even friends.”
It was followed by a pregnant pause. Lexa didn’t know what to say to fill in the gaps.
“They told me that you, Alexandria Woods Trikru, the apparent heiress of the internationally acclaimed Woods Trikru hotel chain, which I didn't any clue about, has been on depression pills. For quite a long time. That you were stressed so much that your bp was low and your work hours not to mention your tenuous gym activities not to mentions your nightmares have been affecting you. I asked you so many times, yet you told me nothing. I thought we were friends.”
Lexa struggled to get off bed, her legs felt jelly like to carry her weight but Clarke gently pushed her back,
“Get better, Lexa. When you have to talk, come find me.”
Her phone didn’t buzz. It lay silent for 4 whole days. Lexa drummed her fingers idly in her office, burying herself in her paperwork and meetings when her health was permitted, trying not to stare at the blank screen.
No messages, no calls, no voicemails. Nothing.
The aching in her right palm seeped in her bones and sub-consciously Lexa found herself rubbing on that round scar at the centre but it still burnt. What would she tell Clarke anyway? What would she tell Clarke, that she would understand which Costia didn’t? But this distance that she now had with Clarke was making her impossible to think, it was almost as if every rational thought was slipping through herself leaving her in a sobbing mess.
Today was the 6th day, it was just the 6th and it had already felt like she had survived an eternity of loneliness. Clarke had somehow become this constancy, the normal in her abnormality that Lexa couldn’t do without. She was the sane in her sanity. She touched the pendant with Anya’s name craved on it and called up the room service.
It was the 6th day and Lexa was still yet to call her. Clarke tried not to stare into the still blackened screen too longingly because if she did, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop her waterworks. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried to do or enjoy something, she always felt something was missing.
She knew what she was missing. Lexa.
Clarke’s teeth was chattering and rubbing up her palms she hurried upstairs to her apartment and down herself in the warmth of her bed. In her fuzziness, she almost didn’t see Lexa who was curled up in a ball on the stairs.
Lexa didn’t stir. Clarke called her name an octave louder and it was only then she saw her open up her forest green eyes. Her curly chestnut hair fell on her shoulders and even from a distance Clarke could feel her shivering. She didn’t move, she sat on the stairs almost as if trying to make out the scenario playing out in front.
“Lexa, get inside the….. Are you drunk?”
“I missed you, Clarke.”
Lexa looked so small confessing that Clarke didn’t have the heart to tell her anything. She put up her unclothed fingers in the air, which were burning red, as she spoke,
“I tried to get off her blood from my hands but they just won’t come off. They weren’t there when you were here but now they are always there. You left.”
Clarke opened her first aid kit and massaged the ointment on the swollen hands. Like a 5 year old, Lexa put up her hands and her drunkard eyes were glassy as she flinched whenever her companion moved to put up the cream.
“I was always here. I'm always here.”
Warm hands tightly gripped her waist and hot breaths were nuzzling her neck. Her eyelids felt heavy when she tried to open them. It was still dark outside. She tried to move again but someone held her back.
“Sleep, Lexa.” Clarke.
And she did.
This time, when she awoke she immediately felt the absence of that warm body and she groaned unceremoniously. There was a slight twinge in her forehead, her stomach was growling and flashes of last night came swirling in.
Drink. Blood. Clarke, Drink, Alcoholic. Clarke.
The yellow band on her wrist was gone. Torn off. By her.
The bathroom door open and closed and a towel clad Clarke Griffin stood before her. Only a towel clad Clarke Griffin with dripping hair that fell on the right of her shoulders, clutching all the sinful places and despite all, Lexa somehow couldn’t take her eyes of her. Clarke was staring at Lexa rather questionably but still she couldn’t deter her eyes until her ears echoed with that growling noise.
“Breakfast’s on the table. Eat and we’ll talk, ok?”
“It was supposed to be our final tour. Commander and Colonel’s. Mine and Anya’s. Another hostage rescue mission. The group was divided into two, both of us leading each. It was supposed to be simple. By the protocol. Shooting down the bad guys, saving the hostages. Like we had done too many times. I was already leading the first hostage safely to the nearest safe house, Anya following shortly. But there was this bomb. In that perimeter. Which we somehow missed.”
Her breath hitched, her voice wet with unshed tears.
“The 2nd group proximity was much closer to it and the quakes of that bomb caught us off-guard. There were about 20 hostages that burnt alive, their faces blackened out, flesh ripped off. I almost didn’t find her among the dead. Her left side was churned off. She was gasping for breathe, her blood on her hands, oozing out like red sea. Help came 20 mins late. And for 20 mins I sat there with her head on my lap, counting the slow diminishing rise and fall of her chest. She asked me to let go please, to get rid of the pain and I did. She was declared dead on the way. Her blood dry and sticky in my palms.”
“I promised Linc, I would bring us both back safely. Standing at her funeral, each bullet that fired plunged my heart and I couldn’t bear to look into their eyes. Mama, Papa and Lincoln’s. A promise broken. A daughter. A sister. A friend stolen.”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill her. You saved lives.”
“I didn’t save her either.
I was supposed to propose to Costia when I came home. On our 5th anniversary. But things fell apart so fast. The screams of the dead haunted me. Alcohol became a new friend, something that didn’t demand answers. I was nearing to alcoholism but Cos was patient. Until she reached her breaking point too.”
Lexa didn’t know when she had sub-consciously starting twitching her right palm. It hurt still. Until Clarke took in in hers, soothing it. It hurt still but this time the pain was bearable.
“I was drunk, got into bar fights, came home in stitches. And one day, I had plunged the kitchen knife in my hand. That was her breaking point and my turning point. She promised me that she would be there waiting for me when I returned from rehabilitation centre. But I guess, it paled in a year’s time. And I was left with an apartment. No home. With a ring that burnt holes in my pocket.”
Lexa had somehow swallowed two fresh toasts. But Clarke didn’t touch hers, her appetite lost. Her eyes were held by Lexa who was fluttering her eyes to keep her tears at bay. She touched the now empty space on her wrist where her band was once placed.
Clarke snuggled up to her friend, hoping, hoping for something, anything to make it okay.
It was 9.30am, Monday. Clarke had to be at work from 10 am. But all her inner struggle crumbled at Lexa’s words. She called in sick for today and the following day.
Romeo and Juliet was playing on the screen. Apparently, Romeo was declaring his undying love for Juliet, Juliet promising him, that she would be there for him always. For the infinite time, Lexa made a gagging sound and Clarke shoved her cushion on her face.
“I would be there for you too, you know.”
“I would be there for you too for better and worse no matter what you did.”
There was a slight rise in the temperature of the room. A tension. Lexa had heard those words before too, not the exact same for somewhat same along the context. From Lincoln, from Costia, from her parents but there had always been a pity in them. Something insincere. But Clarke’s words made the weight on her shoulders soften, they comforted her. And Lexa wanted nothing more than have her. Her lifeline.
“Right back at you, Griffin.”
2 months passes.
Lexa had promised Clarke pancakes and lattes only if she took a break and accompanied her for breakfast. And to that little downtown bookstore. She even agreed to tolerate the blonde girl while she babbled on Lexa mercilessly used her devoted love for pancakes and coffee to slither her way.
But the playful smile that etched on her lips was enough for Lexa.
The bookstore was almost empty abet a few. Lexa was having difficulty in finding her desired book and Clarke was huffing and puffing now and then for making her under go so much manual labour.
There was a slight screech of “Clarke” somewhere from the other side of the store. Her ears peaked and no sooner had she looked up to her companion, she found her wrapped underneath the arms of a girl, a supposed Reyes.
Why did the name sound so familiar?
Reivon? Raven? Raven Rayes? Raven….
Finn’s Raven. The other girlfriend.
Lexa did a do-over on the intruder. Raven Reyes was certainly not bad looking. Ok, she was ok looking. Shit, why was she kidding herself. Raven Reyes was very fit. Pretty. Not that pretty but still.
Clarke’s laughter came easily when she was chattering to Raven. Who was, begrudged-ly to Lexa, tugging at the braids of Clarke’s hair. They seem rather good acquaintances, might she say friends even after their bad bloodied history. She tried her best not to eavesdrop on their conversation, as the blonde had quite jovially ditched her, but she did hear some words that intrigued her even more.
Payback’s sure a bitch. Wait, did she hear it wrong or did Clarke actually sleep with Raven or Raven with Clarke to answer Finn’s betrayal?
Two of his exes hooking up together. Oh god.
Clarke pulled the said girl tugging her along, her eyes going through the small bookstore looking for a certain green-eyed brunette whom she found sitting on a vacant seat, caught in a trance.
“Lexa? Meet Raven Reyes. One of my most cherished friends. We kinda lost contact back at college but…..” Clarke turned to Raven, excitedly giggled out, “I missed you, Ray”
“Missed me huh? Any specific parts or just the whole package?”
The sultry voice of Raven Reyes was ringing sirens in Lexa’s head and the playful shove that was inflicted on her shoulder due to her mockery by the blonde made Lexa’s stomach quench. There was a lump in a throat and she felt herself intruding on a private moment.
“Shut up, Reyes. Raven, this is Lexa Woods.”
Lexa didn’t appreciate the whistling that the Raven girl did and she disliked her so much so that she didn’t even bother to extend her hand midway to greet her. Instead she just nodded.
She could feel Clarke’s confusion at the certain change in her atmosphere but Lexa couldn’t bring herself to actually acknowledge the girl.
Tugging the change in her back pocket for her desired book, she by passed the girls and headed for the exit. There was a pull on her wrist as the blonde girl held her way, her eyes searching Lexa’s for the drastic change of events.
“I thought we could get lunch together or something. We didn’t exactly accompany each other much this week and I have to catch up with Ray…. “
There was a brimming hope in her voice, but a hope for what, Lexa didn’t understand.
“We did have 4 sleepovers in 7 days. That must count for something.” Came a husky reply, but Clarke still held her ground.
But Lexa needed space. From Clarke. For a while. The blonde didn’t have a clue of the turmoil that were erupting inside Lexa, she was totally oblivious to the fact that her best friend was irrevocably in love with her. And it was better this way.
Lexa shrugged, “I don’t want to intrude. Why don’t you catch up with your friend and we’ll grab lunch some other time. Ok?”
But she didn’t wait for a reply. The bells of the bookstore clicked twice as the door opened and closed. She didn’t see the hope being completed erased from Clarke’s face replaced by a shadow, a look as if she had been kicked in her gut.
A few more seconds.
Clarke was edging towards sleep. She was there almost. Almost. When her phone rang deafening her ear drums. Still sleep slurred she didn’t check the caller ID before spluttering out a frustrated “What?”
“Is this how you greet a person who wishes you a Happy Birthday?”
There had been some distance between them ever since she introduced Raven to Lexa. Lexa shortened her visits, her stays and meetings. It was as if she grew more conscious about everything around Clarke, something that she wasn’t herself comfortable with. She had even considered the possibility of Lexa’s jealousy but who was she kidding. Raven in all her “hotness” didn’t hold a candle to Lexa. Lexa was her ground, something that held her about.
She had even told her that Raven and her weren’t a thing, not anymore but still there was this infinite gap.
In these two weeks Clarke learnt that she had strong feelings for the other brunette. Strong as in intoxicatingly strong. Constantly thinking about her, wishing she was here with her now, missing her etcetera etcetera, Clarke knew they all were symptoms of a particular kind of fever. Love.
Two weeks. Yes. Two weeks, she didn’t talk. They did talk, she did come over but there was something missing. It was missing. An invisible barrier and a fine line that was separating them.
The feeling had been unsettling to say the least. Two weeks. It has been two weeks since she had started limiting herself to touching Clarke or even being in her proximity. Clarke had told her, almost assured that Raven and her weren’t a thing, not anymore but that weird, feeling was still there in the pit of her stomach. Strong radiant feelings that was engulfing her from the inside.
She was envious of the easiness that came in Raven and Clarke’s friendship. Raven’s shoulders weren’t bend like hers under the boughs of baggage, how she could smile without a care in the world. In ways, she was better for Clarke that Lexa couldn’t even measure up too and she wholeheartedly knew how her distance was affecting Clarke, but it was for the best. Or so she told herself.
“Where were you?”
Her raspy voice buzzed through the phone, raised by two octaves.
“I was right here.”
“Liar.” Anger was jarring the blonde’s senses. “You weren’t here for two weeks even when you where here. Not with me, at least. Did I do something?”
There was a pause and an intake of breath, a voice almost a whimper, “No. I needed space. To think. I didn’t think you would notice though. With your old friend and stuff.”
“She’s not you. I missed you.” And tears welled up on both sides.
“Need any more space?”
“Never again.” Nobody said anything. Until Lexa asked, “Can I come? I can even give you your gift?”
There was a fleeting yes, with a hearty laugh. And 15 minutes later Lexa held her most perfect gift.
Pain. Tears. Regret. All disappears when she drew. Lexa gave her, her safe haven, her art.
With grape soda in her hand has been untouched. Music was barring about from the speakers and there were sweatier alcoholic people in the room that she could count. Her eyes pried over the pandemonium, but didn’t find the desired blonde who was probably chattering away with some do-gooders. Utterly oblivious of what she was doing to her.
Just a kiss. It was a bloody dare and it was just a kiss. On the lips but still. She had taken down men with her bare hands, fought with broken ribs. Now she’s chickening out because she has been dared to kiss the girls of her dreams? Yeah, she’s a chicken.
She hesitated but plucking up her residual courage she moved over to Clarke. Her messy bun. Her parted lips. And those sinfully short shorts and neck deep top was killing Lexa.
Her eyes followed her every movement. In close vicinity, Lexa counted a 3.2.1 before brushing her lips over her. They barely touched but they touched still. Clarke eyes searched hers for something, maybe as to why she couldn’t even properly kiss her but Lexa was a coward.
“What was that? Was that a kiss? That’s not a kiss.” Slurred the drunkard Raven, “Need a demo, Lexi because I would love to.”, her eyes moving over to the birthday girl.
Maybe it was the adrenaline rush at the sudden challenge, maybe it was anger at someone else touching Clarke, maybe it was an empowerment of her love of her best friend or maybe it was all – Lexa sought her lips in hunger, unyielding. She put her arms around her, pulling her in and her lips softened. She could feel Clarke’s heartbeat hammering, the alcoholism in her mouth with a tinge of chocolate as she curled her fingers in her blonde mane, silky and fine. She heard a moan and reality set in. Clarke wasn’t kissing her back. Untangling herself, Lexa got up and exited. Avoiding the burning holes that were being shot by Clarke.
She felt the other end of the couch dip as someone sat but Lexa had too many thoughts to even bother to look up.
“I have never felt this ignored before”, a sultry voice reached her.
Dirty blonde hair. Smirking. Nice physique. Dry martini. Perfect night stand kinda girl, that was Lexa’s inference on,
“And you are?”
Lexa hummed in reply, a certain flash of her favorite blonde caught her periphery, coming her way.
“Niylah.” Lexa worded out in a huskier voice. Almost encouraging the other girl. What was she thinking?
“I like the way my name rolls out of your tongue. Drink? Be a sport.”
The apparent Niylah stepped up her game by placing her hand on Lexa’s thigh, squeezing it and she didn’t object. But the drink was not for her. Her eyes looked around for that certain blonde but she was lost.
“I prefer sobriety. And my tongue is quite splendid in certain activities.”
The blonde almost sat on her lap before pulling Lexa in on a kiss square on her mouth. And that was when realization dawned on her. Niylah’s lips were dry and chapped against her, too rough to her current and the way she was pushing her tongue down her throat, the severity and the lack of depth in the act made her realize that she wasn’t Clarke. And she only wanted Clarke. In whatever form or capacity she could have her.
The mild, almost a near brush of lips, saddened Clarke. Was the idea of kissing her so vile that Lexa couldn't even give her a proper kiss? Similar words were dancing in her head as she dared to meet eye to eye to her, but she was looking anywhere but her.
Blue eyes moistened a bit and her mind drifted to the slow lyrics of the song that was playing in the background or maybe the music was just drumming in her head, what hurts the most is being so close and watching you walk away.... the lines kept repeating again and again much to her dismay. The irony.
She almost didn't hear or tried to overlook Raven's sassy comments on showing her bedroom prowess by kissing her but she didn't miss that immediate lack of personal space when Lexa's breathe invaded her and the fierce tangling of plump lips on hers. An assault, so sweet yet so determined. So gentle yet so firm. Clarke was paralyzed and the smell of wetted ground and cinnamon rolls invaded her nostrils. Divine.
But maybe it was a moment too long when she felt those breath stealing lips amiss from her and before she could even stand her ground, she could see Lexa already drifting away in the crowd. There were cheers and ohhs but the only afterthought that Clarke was hearing, she forgot to kiss her back. Shit, she forgot to kiss her back.
She didn't even know half or more like one-fourth of the people that was in her apartment right now but that didn't stop her from pulling and pushing through sweaty bodies to find her brunette. Until she found her, almost wrapped underneath the arms of a dirty blonde who was offering Lexa a drink. She had to almost fight bull sized men who would guard her view but still she didn't know why she even stood and watched her, from afar but she couldn't even bare the thought of leaving her. To Niylah. Her co-worker.
She held her ground until, until she saw Niylah bridging the gap between Lexa and herself, but Clarke waited clutching the window pane, waited for Lexa to push her away, but instead she saw the action of lips. Hands tangled in each other's hair. She saw blood and hurt. She saw red. Passion and anger. Jealousy. Her ground slipped from her feet and when her vision became so blurry that she could feel wet drops on her skin, she left.
The party was thinning soon after leaving Clarke’s apartment in a havoc. Lexa helped in throwing out the trashes, cleaning but for not once did Clarke look at her. She was passive, asking Lexa only when it was a necessity. They worked like two co-workers, bordering on strangers until Lexa had enough.
“Did I do something? I’m sorry for whatever I did, ok.”
Clarke didn’t reply. She merely thrusted the trash with extra vigor into the bin. She clutched her cardigan around herself and walked up to her apartment.
“I’m sorry for whatev…”
“Did you drink?”
Lexa was confused.
“Did you drink when Niylah offered you? I saw her offering you and you seemed pretty eager… despite everything... did you….”
Clarke had her back to Lexa when he spoke to her. But it felt more like accusing her.
“I didn’t. I told you I wouldn’t so I didn’t.”
The venom in Lexa's voice was cutting glass through the other girl’s self, forcing the her to face Lexa,
“You don't think I notice when you look at me when we are at a bar? Or when I'm getting anxious? You think I'm broken. But I'm not. I'm might be damaged Clarke, but I'm not broken. I’m not made of glass so stop treating me like one. And for God's sake, stop fix me."
Clarke didn't look at her. She stopped for a few seconds before she said almost resigned before she headed to the bedroom, "You are a fool if you think I actually pity you."
But there was a wetness, a croakness in her voice that Lexa immediately caught up.
Clarke sniffled in her pillow as she thought over Lexa's words. Lexa's kiss. She tried her best to not let her mind drift to that unholy hour when she saw Lexa kissing someone else but she did think about it. More than she wanted to.
She felt the left side of her bed dip as her intruder settled slowly. She felt tender hands on her shoulders checking if she was awake, but Clarke didn't move a muscle, instead she shut her eyes firmly and let her intruder so whatever the hell she wanted.
"I know you are awake."
But all Lexa was met with silence. Nothing more, nothing less.
"I'm sorry, Clarke. I'm so sorry. For my words. For how behaved tonight. For hurting you."
Still it was only the dark that stared her back and Lexa knew that Clarke wasn't asleep.
"You were right. I was going to drink tonight. I wanted too. But somehow I couldn't do it, I couldn't let you down."
There, Lexa had said it. That Clarke Griffin was right. But still Clarke made no move to acknowledge her presence.
"I sometimes wonder how can anyone tolerate me, let alone be my friend after what I have done. I know, you'll say that sometimes some things are beyond us but what if it still trails me home? What if..."
Her voice trembled and all her following words jumbled.
Clarke could feel the hitch in her voice, she knew Lexa was crying and when she felt the dip in her bed again, she knew Lexa was leaving so without much ado, in the glooming darkness, her hands found the brunette's wrist pulling her onto her lap.
"You have been crying." She felt Lexa's soft touch on her skin as she brushed off each tear and Clarke let her. "I have made you cry, Clarke."
Clarke's hands found Lexa's perfect jawline and she traced her fingers to her eyelids, wiping the wet eyes. "I don't like it when you cry too."
"You are family, Lexa. You are never alone."
"And you are the most important thing to me, Griffin. Ever."
The aftershocks of her kiss, the tremors still echoed within her but she didn’t say a word. She was too mesmerized by it and too scared .Clarke would have kicked her own ass if she could but now the moment was truly gone. She lost her chance. And the tremors that purred in her chest would still be there in morning light.
4 months passes just like that.
There was dust on the frame. Well, that was bound to happen if things are left un-touched solitary for so many years. She ran her fingers through the faded glass and stared at the faces. Smiles locked in time. Faces she hadn’t seen or rather hadn’t had to decency nor the courage to talk to. She was a coward.
Lexa didn’t bother to look up from her seat as her office door shut and closed. Paperwork laid on her table, no matter how fast she worked, more would spring up. The clicked heels were loud and familiar, there was a spring in their each step.
“You are very loud, Clarke.”
Lexa commented, still hadn’t bothered to look up.
Clarke couldn’t believe this. Every time she sneaked up to Lexa, she would be too loud. And today, she was just too tired to even fight back. Like a petulant child, she stuck out her tongue to the other woman before slamming herself on to the couch. Laying her head on the pillow, she took her time to steal looks at the brunette girl. Woman. Her intricate braids were tied up back and Clarke wondered how much work does it even take to tie them up. Her buttoned up shirt was clinging to her bare flexing muscles, illuminating the tribal formed tattoos that embroidered her skin. Supposedly she had one down her spine too and somehow Clarke was itching to see it. She wanted to see what kind of stories did they held to the war hero.
Lexa wore a reading glass today, and her eyebrows wriggled as she read each line with extra attention. Green eyes followed the black inks up to the brim and blue eyes found it enchanting. Little things that made you love her. Lexa. Oh. Not love, love. Best friend’s love. That love. Yeah. Yes?
Lexa had yet to acknowledge her presence so Clarke strolled up to her desk, catching glimpse on the third drawer with a end of a photo-frame hanging out. In instinct, Clarke went out for it only to be caught mid-way by Lexa. Startled and a bit hurt, Clarke withdrew her hand.
Lexa immediately amended. It was private and well, it was private but this was Clarke, Lexa kept on thinking.
No, it wasn’t, Clarke wanted to say. They were best friends.
“It’s really ok, Lexa. Show me, when you want to.”
Even though the convincing tone of her voice was slowly lessening as each word fell out.
“ I’m not going anywhere.”
Her plumped lips let go of the breathe, they didn’t even realize they were holding. She wasn’t going anywhere. She wasn’t going anywhere. She wasn’t going anywhere. Like a broken tape-recorder, the words kept flashing in her mind. Because if Clarke went somewhere, Lexa didn’t know if she could survive it. Most times Lexa felt drowning, she was drowning but each time, someone held her up. Clarke. Her star in the milky way.
“There’s a fundraiser this Saturday. At Toronto. A ball for the financial douchebags, embracing each other, yada yada…”
The questionable look on Clarke wasn’t yet dissipated.
“Will you go with me? To the ball?”
Lexa stammered before her continuance, “My family will be there too and I....free food, wine and dine and stuff as well.”
“I’ll be there. Geez, wine and dine, huh. Wouldn’t miss that.”
“I’ll pick you up.”
“It’s a date.”
Before Lexa could clarify further, Clarke was out of the door. A date? Like a date date? Or a friend date?
She distinctly remembers the tales that Clarke told her one sleepover about her med school sweetheart. Finn Thomas. Her first love. Her first date. And her first in many things. How she fell for his sweet talk, how he was a caring boyfriend who overnight had stabbed her with a knife lashed in betrayal. When she had found him tangled in the arms of another woman. How she ran from him, and how he ran after her, begging and pleading. So much so that she had to put a restraining order on him when he stalked her, declaring his love and helping her to rid of her homophobicity.
Lexa distinctly remembers. How her hand tightened around the glass of water, how it crumbled to shards of glass beneath her grasp piercing her skin. She had never been hit by the wave of jealousy with such vigour, even when she was with Costia and how much she wanted to rip out his heart for making Clarke shed blood tears.
She remembers how Clarke tried to word put her odd behaviour, bandaging her hand, how Lexa left her apartment and didn’t speak to Clarke for a day.
Lexa remembers and sometimes when she closed her eyes, she still vividly remembers Clarke clinging to her like a child, her red eyes brimming with tears when Lexa had left without a word.
Lexa had learnt that day that she might be a bit in love with her best friend. And staying so close to her without saying it couldn’t hurt anymore.
A friend date it was then.
It’s a date then.
Clarke could have literally slammed her head on the pillar and it might have definitely hurt less. Lexa had a lot of baggage, she herself had a lot of baggage even though it doesn’t even compare to Lexa’s but still. They both have lost and seeked solace in each other. No complaints. No demands. Ok, they had their ups and downs, they were what they were.
Lexa was her best friend. She loved her for it. And moreover, Lexa was still in love with Costia. Who still haunted her in her sleep, whose ring Clarke found one day when she was looking for her hoodie which she had left at Lexa’s room.
A princess cut diamond ring, probably from Tiffany’s. still in Lexa’s drawer. And somehow, it hurt Clarke. Lexa wasn’t over Costia. The woman who stole her heart. The woman who got away. The woman with the gorgeous long legs and doe eyes. Who shared moments with Lexa, that she could never compare. Maybe because, she hadn’t loved anyone, as Lexa had loved, loves Costia.
And it felt like a hole in her heart.
A friend date, it was then.
She took her breathe away.
The navy blue dress clung to her curves, highlighting her ocean depth eyes, the neck deep cocktail gown almost teased the linings of her prominent cleavage, the eyeliner cast added an intriguingly dark, mystic look to her eyes and oh her hair, her golden mane, fell callously over her broad shoulders. And the silver chain that encircled her neck,branding her skin and for a moment Lexa felt jealous of it's proximity to the blonde. For a moment.
She looked heavenly. And she took Lexa’s breathe away, as she descended the steps of the jet.
“How do I look? Like really, really.”
The indecisiveness on her face was very cute. And Lexa didn’t understand her self-doubt. She was beautiful, so Lexa told her that for the nth time.
“You look as if you fell from the sky. Heavenly. Like really, really. How do I look?”
But the glint in Clarke’s eyes stand otherwise.
“Compared to you? Sure. Shall we get the party started then?”
She took her gaze. Effortlessly.
The background was appear all blurry if she ever looked back today for she held her eyes. And Clarke let her.
The ends of her black maxim dress trailed behind her as she moved from one suitor to another engaging in small talk. The hair was riddled today in soft knots, tied delicately. The long knee deep cut on her right leg held the picturesque beauty of her long never legs, her face clean, devoid of any make-up, just light touches. Her kissable neck, those chiselled jaws and perfect jawline and the intensity of her piercing green, glorified under the chandelier. This pagan of beauty screamed simplicity.
She looked divine.
Lexa was making her way towards Clarke when a much unwanted man with dirty long hair held Lexa back. There were whispered words between them. Clarke received a nod from Lexa before she was pulled to the dance floor with the stranger. Who pulled her close by the waist. Almost enclosing Lexa in all his presence. Again, whispering words into her ears, as they swaying their hips in synchrony to the music beats. Who even acknowledged him by smiling. Smiling? Lexa?
Clarke felt her heat crawling up from her neck to her face. Anger. And hatred. And green. She was green. Her burned in the scene that unfolded before her and without a thought she turned away, when she felt Lexa looking at her. Or at least she tried to. Clarke didn’t know why she felt this but she knew that she should have been the one stealing smiles from those lips, not a stranger. That she should have been the one dancing, dare say. Waltzing to the excruciating slow beats, not that stranger. With a final look, Clarke gulped her drink.
“I don’t like him, too.”
Her trance was broken when a man, with tanned skin only in a much darker shade than Lexa’s, commented keeping a respectable distance between them. The blonde huffed. Annoyed. Understatement of the year, her mind screamed.
“I don’t like him, too and fortunately Lexa doesn’t either.”
“Doesn’t seem like that.”
“Long story short, he, Roan was a bit of a rather unpleasant experiment for Commander there to know if she played for his team or not. He was very disappointed but they are friends of sorts, I believe. So you don’t have to worry about him.”
Clarke coughed at the last statement. “I…we. We are not..”
Her eyes found the green eyes even between the sea of people that separated them. And seconds skipped in their hourglass. There was a certain electricity, an intoxicate friction that held them together. There was a mild clearing of a throat,
“I can see that, thoroughly.”
And Clarke wanted to overlook that smile in his voice.
Then, like a gentleman, he extended his head, “I’m Lincoln. Woods Trikru. Lexa's brother. And any close friend of Lexa’s is always welcome here.”
Clarke watched as his eyes sought out Lexa’s. The sibling love evident in them. Maybe she didn’t hear him correctly, but she knew she heard him,
“I miss her. She hasn’t come here in a long time. 3 years to be exact. It’s hard for her so thank you for coming with her, close friend of Lexa’s.” He definitely ended that with a wink.
Clarke smiled at his antics, “She misses you too.”
It wasn’t long before, Lexa joined them in their conversation. Didn’t join per se, more like the three of them stood in an awkward silence, each waiting for someone to speak and frankly Clarke didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t long before Lincoln excused himself.
“Talk to him.”
“When? Sometime this decade, I hope?”
“Sarcasm is the product of a weak mind, Clarke. What were you two talking about anyway?”
“Your boy toy and his endless crush on the Commander and her breaking promise of saving me a dance.”
Lexa raised her eyebrow at the change in demeanour of Clarke’s which quickly melted down. She forgot.
“It’s okay. But you are not okay. So is he. Talk to him. I’ll be here with your chariot in case you bail out but talk to him, okay?”
“I’ll be here. Now go.”
They stood in bleakness of Clarke’s apartment. It was close to 3 am and Clarke couldn’t be more thankful that tomorrow, uh, today was a Sunday.
She was heading to her bedroom to get off her dress, when a certain someone held her back. Even in the dim lights of the room, Clarke could easily make out the sculpture of Lexa. The waves of relaxation that oozed from her let her know that her meeting with Lincoln had gone satisfactory, even though Clarke didn’t ask. She knew Lexa would tell her in due time. And that was enough for now.
“I promised one persistent blonde a dance and I try not to break them.”
Clarke tugged at her to wake her up from her sadden memories. Not today, Lexa didn’t need them.
“With no music?”
“Let there be music.”
And there was. The music of John Legend echoed through her apartment. And they danced. Or more like just held each other as Clarke was twirled and turned around by Lexa, who was mouthing out the lyrics of “All of me”. Clarke wasn’t as gracious as Lexa on the dance arena but she could hold herself up. Her both hands were on Lexa’s thin waist and tanned hands encircled her neck. They hips moved close to their domain, in a certain intimacy, their chest touching each other and that same look in their eyes.
Lexa mouthed out the words, “All of me wants all of you” and there, in that moment, Clarke realised that she was in love in Lexa. From the first day she met her. Under the twilight lit sky. And it infused her with a certain vigour, she loved Lexa. For all her scars. But how could she ever tell her that? What if she felt the same though? But what if she didn’t ?
Things between them were pretty much back to normal or so they tried, just they had some feelings or thoughts that they both tended to avoid.
“You do know that I have a perfectly adequate bed right?”
She was changing out of her work clothes when a distant voice rang through her bedroom, “There’s some leftover in the microwave. I trust that you can heat it up without my assistance?”
She poked her head out by the door, feigning hurt, “It was one time, Lexa. One freaking time.” Emphasizing on the “one”.
Like a silhouette in the darkness, she tiptoed to the living room, ghosting over the snoring figure.
“Scoot over, Lexa.”
“No. There’s a perfectly adequate bed next door, Griffin.”
But despite her protest she scooted over to make room for the feisty blonde who mumbled sullenly, “I still can’t believe you bought a 10,000$ couch for yourself on my birthday in my apartment.” After a moment, the blonde exclaimed, “Damn, soft. I might never get out now.”
And Lexa snorted heavily.
Sometime later, there was a shuffling of sheets and warm hands encased her waist, hot breaths warmed her neck and a sober voice spoke, “I don’t mind them, you know. Your nightmares.”
And there it lay on the open. Without her depression pills, Lexa learnt soon enough that keeping her night dreams at bay was impossible and even though their intensity was falling slowly, they still followed her home. And in middle of the nights, she often found herself waking up the work-riddled blonde and felt guilty each time. Not that she would actually tell her that.
“Hmm, I know.”
Maybe it was the rhythm of the steady beats of the blonde’s heart or maybe it was cinnamon and honey dukes smell, but it was lulling herself to sleep.
Maybe it was yet another dream but she knew she felt the slight pressure of wet lips on her cheek and a goodnight wish, “Sleep tight, Lex” before she dozed off completely.
The bar was over-crowded.
Wait, that’s a universal statement.
She took off her black jacket as she slide into an empty stool. Raven was in a tight yet quite short white skirt and an equally short red top ending above her belly button. And Clarke, she wore a black cocktail dress that hung barely above knees, exposing those waxed, and utterly ridiculous legs.
Lexa glanced up at her clothing, she was in a rather simple pantsuit and a crispy white top. She felt under-dressed. She hid her head in her palms otherwise she wouldn’t be able to stop from ogling her.
But her heavenly piece was short lived when she was forcibly pulled to the dance floor, in a sea of sleazy and sweaty people, almost making herself cringe.
She found herself in between Clarke and Raven and the shrinking distance between them too, made her actions very conscious.
“Waltz with me, Lexa. Come on” That to with a wink.
“Okay, that’s my cue. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, kids” and that was the last they saw of Raven until the end of the night.
Dinner. Checked. Movie Nights. Checked. Late bar drinks. Checked. Intimate dancing. Double checked. Holding hands. checked too. Chauffeuring your love’s drunkard friend. Yes, Lexa was checking that one off the list now.
They might as well be dating. Yes, or so Lexa things.
Raven was handling herself rather well despite her cartons of drinking but still out of safety, Lexa held onto her.
There was a shy smile on Clarke’s Griffin’s face glancing time and again to Lexa holding on Raven, budding into pull embarrassment when Raven’s knowing smile sought hers, much to Lexa’s lack of attention. Her smile was her approval.
But Clarke was woken from her reverie when a rough hand pulled her back. There was a shriek from Raven which drew Lexa’s attention.
The man was probably a drunk, in his late twenties but in the darkness of the parking lot, Lexa couldn’t make out his face, except his tight grip on Clarke and a shuddering mutter of “Finn” from Raven’s lips.
His greasy hands moved over to Clarke’s face and even from a distance she could make out the terror behind the blues. She gently put down Raven, before calling out, “You should let her go.”
The man, Finn, turned to Lexa and then to Clarke, “Your feisty girlfriend? I have to say, she’s certainly hot.”
There was a wicked smile that aced his face as he did a up to down look on Lexa, “A beauty piece like you shouldn’t be wasted, now, babe.”
And Lexa pushed him. A right hook on his face. He stuttered back a few steps.
“Clarke, take Raven to the car. I’ll be following shortly.”
The man gave another merciless laugh.
“Raven’s here too? The more the merrier.”
People were starting to gather as their volume increased.
“I suppose you love getting hit by a girl. Stay down. Clarke jus…..”
The beer bottle crashed on her shoulders, some pieces embedded inside her. Lexa winced out and the jab she felt in her shoulder made her groan in pain.
“Don’t worry. Dykes like you and Clarke and that Raven needs a man, a true man too ….”
Lexa crashed her wrist into his jaw.
“Stop. Lexa. Just stop this.”
She moved forward, to form some sort of a barrier between Lexa and him but Lexa shoved her away. But Clarke didn’t step back.
“Lexa, you are killing him. Please.”
You are killing him, Lexa. Just stop.
Lexa looked up to her. Costia. Her steps moving back, as if she was trying to put some distance between them. Her eyes riddled in fear. Of Lexa. Not for Lexa.
There were tears in her eyes, and when Lexa moved up close to her to wipe them away she flinched. As if she was touched by some inferno.
Lexa followed her a few steps behind. But she felt as if she was miles away from her darling.
That night she didn’t sleep.
“I’m tired. We’ll talk in the morning.”
But they didn’t talk. And three days later she left, promising she’ll be here when Lexa returned mending herself. When she isn’t this monster that came from war, when she was not broken, she was the Lexa she fell in love with before she went. She didn’t come.
Her right hand was broken apparently.
She truly was a monster.
As per the doctor’s report, Finn had a broken nose, a concussion and a few broken ribs. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Lexa scoffed bitterly.
She didn’t know what she expected when Clarke had told her that they will talk soon, but how soon was soon because it had been 14 hours since the accident and they hadn’t talked. Clarke hadn’t talked to her. Not after she ran to Finn so see if he was alright. Lexa’s hurt broke a little at that sight.
But Lexa didn’t blame her too. She lost control. And maybe Clarke realized that she was a monster too so she got off sooner.
Lexa rubbed her thumb over Costia’s ring. There was a difference between now and then though. Then, she had hit the man because she wanted to feel something again even if it was the pain of cracking ribs. Now, she had hit Finnept because he broke her heart, because he had touched her against her will, because he made Clarke cry again. Because she felt too much for the blonde to not do anything. And Lexa wasn’t a bit ashamed.
She looked up at the address that she had penned down at Lincoln’s party. Her address. Maybe it was finally time to let her go.
She was being pinned down by him one moment, his grip around her neck, almost choking her and then in the next moment he was on the ground pinned. By Lexa.
By the time Lexa had let her go, Clarke didn’t realize what happened but Lexa was limping on her left leg, her hand on her stomach and Finn was standing on the other end with a broken beer bottle on his hand.
She heard Lexa telling him to not piss her off but he kept chattering about being a dyke and Clarke needed a true man. Something that aggravated Lexa. And then there was that punch that knocked him out. He fell.
Blood was dripping on her hands. And Clarke’s heart stopped. What is Lexa’s?
Lexa started raining punches on him. He started choking. And even Clarke feared for Lexa.
Clarke ran to Finn’s side to check his vitality, almost whispering to Lexa, her voice laced in anger, “We’ll talk soon”
Until she stopped. And then she disappeared.
Four days. 96 hours.
Lexa stretched out her jet lagged leg. She was gone for only 4 days and she already had a list of meetings and renovations and other stuff, she had to look into.
She was nearing to 11pm and she twirled around lazily in her office chair. She had done a lot of talking, she had let go off the past that was tormenting her present, she should have felt lighter but no, she felt sicker. Heavier.
And more in love than ever.
She hadn’t heard from her in four days. It was only four days and it felt like someone had cut a hole in her heart. Her hands itched to call her, maybe here her voice and even ask her if Clarke had missed her as much Lexa had, if she was thinking about her every passing moment just like she was, if she was in love with her madly, like she was.
But she didn’t. Maybe, Clarke would be better off without her. Lexa will just learn to love her from the shadows.
For the nth time in these four days, her eyes moistened.
There was a light tap on her door. At 11pm?
Maybe it was her assistant?
Whoever it was, Lexa didn’t bother. She called them in without much ado. And golden mane walked it.
“I see that you remember me.”
“I… what are you .. it’s late, Clarke.”
“Where were you? For the last four days?”
“I was out.”
“Out? You couldn’t get anymore vaguer even you tired, Lexa.”
"I do apologize for not sticking around when you finally decide it’s finally “soon” to talk to me."
Lexa got up from her seat, piling up some the files into each of their cabinets. Walking past Clarke, continuing her scheduled work before calling it a day.
“I was preventing Finn from actually finally a lawsuit against you. And forgive me it that actually takes time. He was unconscious. You hit him pretty hard.”
Lexa’s jaw clenched, “I’m sure you played a good nurse to him. You did seem sacred for someone who was harassing you.”
The wincing tone in Lexa made Clarke flinch.
“I was scared for you. He could have been dead and you would have been in jail.”
She repeated in a softer tone, “I was scared for you. And I called you so many times but all went to voicemail.”
“I threw it to the wall. I thought you hated me, feared me for a monster. I lost control. I’m sorry.”
“I see through you Lexa, so how can I possibly fear my apparent savior?”
There was a small smile for the other girl.
“You seem lighter though.”
Clarke wanted to make it sound good but there was an uneasiness in her words.
“I went to see Costia.”
Clarke didn’t have time to process. And those five words of Lexa’s was making the wheels turn around. She felt the hurt as if she was hit by a hundreds bricks.
“Yes. She’s happily married and I’m happy for her.”
"You are… you are ok? With that?"
There was a sigh from the other side and dare she say, Clarke looked relieved.
“Yes. Turns out I have been ok, even happy without her for a while now. Courtesy for a certain blonde.”
Clarke’s steps were unsteady as she walked out to Lexa. The tightness in her chest was being replaced by the empowering butterflies in her stomach. She still didn’t know what Lexa felt towards her but she knew how much she loved her.
Blue eyes met green. And quite instantly her vision moved from her face to her suck able lips. Lexa’s arms went around her waist, pulled her in her proximity until they were just a few inches away from each other but somehow Lexa didn’t cross the last few steps.
There was a tension in the air and not knowing how to say, Clarke engulfed Lexa into a hug. She felt herself lean back on the desk, one hand on the wooden surface to support Clarke’s drooping weight and the other arm encircling her waist, Lexa’s nose buried in her mane.
Clarke held Lexa like a child to her lifeline, red warm tears escaping her eyes, as she nuzzled into Lexa’s neck, clutching the back of her shirt.
She felt tan arms steady her and they pulled her closer, flushing their chests together, rubbing enticing circles on her back and one leg quite awkwardly folded between her thighs.
Clarke’s inhaled in her smell, that aroma of the earth when rain falls on it, devouring her completely, holding her skin tight with no place even for yet to come sunlight. She felt the slight wet on her left shoulder and she realized that this time it wasn’t just she was ached as much.
“Missed me, then, Griffin?”
Lexa tried to put it out jokingly but Clarke was serious.
“Like someone cut a hole in my heart.”
She was caught in Clarke’s hourglass. Her words. Her sands of time. Like someone cut a hole in my heart.
Green eyes turned a shade darker. Her throat dry. She felt hungry. Putting a safe distance between Clarke and herself, she turned around.
“I love you.”
The voice was so mild that she didn’t hear it almost. Lexa definitely heard her wrong? Or did she actually?
“I’m so in love you, Alexandria.”
She turned around only to find her in her space. She didn’t want her anywhere else anyway.
Her hands moved up to her flushed cheeks, cupping them delicately.
“Say it again.”
“I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Each time Clarke said it more and more and more conviction. And it felt really good to say it aloud. She loved her. She did. The weight of three words, finally off her.
Without any notice, she placed her lips on Lexa’s who didn’t hesitant to reciprocate. If their first kiss was amazing, this was felt like the firecrackers bursting in herself, all its colours bending into one. It wasn’t slow, but it wasn’t rough either. It was almost like exploring each other, Clarke’s bottom lip biting Lexa’s upper, their tongues swelling on one another. Lexa could make out the taste of caramel, overlapping with saltiness of Clarke's tears as she licked her lips.
Between kisses, Lexa chanted out uncountable number of “I love you’s” as she breathed in her lover. She left her mouth, only to start kissing her neck, her hands slowly moving underneath the top, thumbing her belly bottom. Lexa sucked her soft skin, and licked her ear lobes eliciting moans.
Clarke was squirming in her hands. she tugged the tightly wound shirt out of her skirt, unbuttoning down, kissing along her ribs until her eyes fell on the linings of the black lace bra bordering her cleavage.
She felt a tight grip on the back, nails digging into her skin when she realized that it was Lexa who was moaning beneath her.
The velvet voice was whimpering when she said it.
“I don’t want our first time at the back of my wooden desk, no matter how hard it is.”
“My apartment’s closer, Lexa.”
They stood in her apartment. Scratch that. In their home. Yes, she had finally bought a house, but it was her lover that made it home. The dinner was famishing, and now when Clarke was twirling the keys to their house, Lexa’s hand clutched onto the box in her jacket.
The room was dark, apart from the twinkling little stars that hung from the ceiling. Clarke was about to turn on the lights when Lexa stopped her. She tugged her wrist as a gesture to follow her.
“You make me better. No, you make me want to be better. You liked me for me I guess, but you loved, love me for my scars and I couldn’t have gotten anymore luckier. I want to remember what your hand feels like in mine for the rest of my life.”
She went down to her knees. The blue sapphire rimmed in the platinum band sparkled in the red velvet box. Her eyes glassy as she asked with all her courage,
“Make me the luckiest girl by marrying me, Clarke.”
There was a slight miniscule pause. For a second, she feared that maybe Clarke wasn’t ready yet. Even after 2 years and 3 months of dating. Or maybe she didn’t want this with Lexa.
“I didn’t hear a question there, Lexa.”
“Will you marry me, Clarke Jane Griffin?”
“Yes. A thousand times yes, love.”
Her knees buckled. And within her batting of eyelids, she was enveloped in Clarke’s arms, her pressure throwing her off into the carpet. Lips met. Moans erupted. Lust overtook them.
Her lungs gasped for air as she detached her swollen lips from her lover’s much to her whining.
“I thought for a second that maybe you weren’t ready. With me.”
Blue eyes sought out the drooping green ones. Long tender fingers moved up, unbuttoning each buttons of Lexa’s shirt, biting the soft tanned skin under her ear lobes.
“You are mine as I’m yours. There’s no in between line, Lexa and there never will be.”
Hungry lips sought her again. Hands working marvellously at the hem of her shirt, creeping down underneath them, slowly making up to her chest. She felt her aroused breasts being molded underneath Clarke’s palms. Who was enviously roaming circles around them. Teasing them. Pinching her hardened buttons.
Lexa didn’t bit her lips this time to stop moaning. And the moans were like music to Clarke’s ears. Her leg found itself behind Lexa’s thighs. Her friction gained pace and the continuous chat of “I love you’s” was making it hard for Lexa to not come undone.
“Bedroom, Clarke. Now.”
Love your curves and all your edges,
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me and I’ll give my all to you
Coz all of me loves all of you.