Chapter Text
She’s back.
The words ring in her ears, drowning out every other sound in the busy restaurant they’re in right now. Her stomach tightens, drops even before her brain can fully process what’s going on. It couldn’t possibly–
“Who?” she asks, even though she doesn’t need to. She knows. Somehow she just knows .
“Costia,” comes Lexa’s reply and there it is, the confirmation she didn’t need.
“Your ex?” Octavia chimes in from across the table, making her jump a little. She had forgotten she was there.
Lexa nods curtly.
“Shit, ” she hears from her side. It’s Raven who mutters it, a hand instinctively reaching for Clarke’s knee under the table. She gives it a light squeeze.
Clarke tries to swallow past the lump in her throat. “She–“ she stops. Has to take a deep breath before continuing. “What do you mean she’s back?”
She doesn’t know how she manages to get a whole sentence out, especially without giving away the havoc going on inside her right now.
It feels like her whole world is crumbling down.
“I mean, she’s back in town. Called me last night, said she was sorry,” Lexa looks down at her hands as she talks. She’s embarrassed, Clarke knows. She always plays with her hands when she’s embarrassed. “She didn’t like California, couldn’t get used to it. Couldn’t get used to being without me.”
It’s like a rope tightens around her ribcage. She can’t breathe, her chest feels tight and she can’t breathe.
“So she…” Raven treads carefully. “She wants to get back together?”
She’s asking all the questions Clarke wishes she could ask. All the questions she’s too afraid to find the answer to.
Raven’s hand is still on her knee, anchoring her. Clarke’s grateful for the only thing making her feel like she’s not actually falling into an abyss.
Lexa shrugs in response. “I don’t know. We didn’t talk much. She just said she wanted to meet, have dinner.”
“Are you gonna?”
It’s Octavia who asks, but when Lexa responds she’s looking directly at Clarke.
“Tomorrow.”
One word had never weighed so much.
“That’s great,” Clarke says, displaying her best fake smile. Her voice overly cheery. “Excuse me, I have to–“ she doesn’t even finish her sentence. She just stands up, Raven’s hand falling limply next to her as Clarke pushes her chair back and makes a beeline for the restroom.
Her heart feels like it’s both beating incessantly and not beating at all.
The first thing she does once inside the bathroom is walk to the sink, turning the knob on the right of the faucet until cold water starts running. Both hands pressed together in the shape of a bowl, she collects just enough water to splash her face. She needs to calm down.
She leans forward, bringing her hands up as she does. After the cool water meets her face she looks up to stare at her reflection in the mirror. Small drops are sliding down her skin, her eyes beginning to water.
No. She will not.
She blinks a couple of times, willing the tears to go away. She tells herself she has this under control as she angrily runs the back of her hand over her eyes.
The bathroom door swings open and then closed. She’s relieved to see it’s only Raven standing there.
“Lexa wanted to come check on you.”
“I’m fine,” Clarke says without prompting.
“Uh huh,” Raven leans her hip against the bathroom counter, arms crossed. She’s giving her that look, the ‘I don’t believe a word you’re saying’ look. “You know, I’ve been okay letting you lie to me all these months. I thought, who cares? As long as she’s not hurting anyone, let her lie and pretend, but now…” Raven sighs, taking a step closer and placing a hand on Clarke’s arm. “Now you’re hurting, Clarke.”
“I’m fine,” Clarke repeats, harsher this time. Sadly Raven is not one to back down.
“Clarke…” she insists.
“Raven. I’m okay, really. It’s fine.”
“So you’re telling me the woman you’re low key in love with tells you she’s meeting her ex for a possibly-getting-back-together dinner, and you’re fine?”
Clarke has the option to choose between two lies: she’s not in love with Lexa or she’s fine.
She goes with the easiest one of them.
“Yes, Raven. I’m fine.”
::::
“Everything okay?” Lexa asks once they return to their table.
“Just peachy,” Clarke says. Both Octavia and Lexa give her an incredulous look.
“Food was a little spicy,” Raven offers and Clarke’s grateful for the assistance.
Lexa’s lips twitch into a soft smile. “You’ve always had a weak stomach.”
“Excuse you,” Clarke says in a half-hearted attempt to defend herself. “It’s not my fault I wasn’t exposed to spices growing up.”
“Hey, I wasn’t either and I do just fine,” Octavia smiles proudly, always glad for the opportunity to point out how naturally great she is at everything.
Raven and Octavia fall into a discussion over tolerance to spices and the role genes play in said tolerance, but Clarke’s mind is too preoccupied to participate.
“Hey,” a nudge to her foot makes her look up. Lexa is looking at her with curious eyes. “Are you okay?”
Clarke nods. “Yeah.” A pause. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Lexa looks at her, lips parted. She seems to be hesitating, like she wants to ask more. Say more. She shrugs instead.
“No reason, I guess.”
They fall into silence and it’s awkward. Lexa still looking at her like she’s trying to read her mind. Clarke usually doesn’t mind, enjoys it even, especially when Lexa pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and focuses her attention on every inch of Clarke’s face. But Clarke’s too scared of what Lexa may find if she does figure her out, so this time she avoids her stare.
“Clarke, if–“
“I have to go,” Clarke interrupts. This stops Octavia and Raven’s discussion, both turning their attention back to her.
“What?” Octavia asks in surprise. “But we’ve had this planned for the past two weeks. And we’re supposed to go to–“
“My stomach’s really not feeling well,” Clarke says lamely, unable to come up with a better excuse. She places a hand over her abdomen for emphasis.
“Do you need a ride?” Lexa asks, standing up as Clarke does.
“No!” Lexa looks at her wide-eyed. “I mean– No. Thank you,” she says, softer this time. “You guys can still go to the movies. I’ll pay you back for my ticket.”
Lexa shakes her head. “Don’t be silly, Clarke. I don’t care about that, I–“
“Good luck tomorrow,” Clarke says. She stands up and turns around before any of them can say anything else, making sure to leave the restaurant without looking back.
::::
Lexa [9:12pm]: I hope you’re feeling better :)
Lexa [9:13pm]: For what it’s worth, you didn’t miss much. The movie wasn’t that great
Lexa [9:13pm]: This should be the last time we let Octavia pick the movie
Lexa [9:18pm]: You’re probably asleep. I hope you wake up feeling better. Text me when you do?
Lexa [10:33am]: Morning, Clarke :) How are you feeling?
Lexa [10:35am]: Could you please text me back when you get this? I’m starting to get worried
Lexa (1 Missed Call, 11:36am)
::::
An impending headache is the first thing Clarke feels when she slowly attempts to open her eyes the following day.
Her memory a little bit fuzzy, she blindly taps around in search for her phone. She thinks it may be buried somewhere between the cushions, or maybe it fell off the couch sometime last night after she passed out.
Head sticking to the side of the couch, she suddenly feels dizzy and needs to close her eyes tightly to subdue the need to throw up.
How much did she drink last night? Probably not more than a glass or two.
She finds her answer when she dares to open her eyes again. An empty bottle of bourbon lying sideways on the coffee table tells her she drank at least half of its contents, if not more. She doesn’t remember exactly how much was already gone when she fished the glass container out of the kitchen cabinet last night.
A groan fills her apartment as she tries to sit up. Her body aches, her head hurts and her heart isn’t faring any better. She childishly shoots daggers at the bottle in front of her, as if it’s the bourbon’s fault that she’s feeling the way she is right now, and not the fact that Lexa managed to ebb herself so deep within her that Clarke doesn’t know how she’ll function once she goes back to Costia.
That thought alone makes her stomach twirl and the urge to throw up is back, except this time it’s even stronger and she barely manages to make it to the bathroom in time to release its contents into the toilet.
She sits on the floor, head over the bowl until she’s sure there won’t be any more coming. She brushes strands of blonde hair away from her sweat-stricken forehead with the back of her hand and then pushes herself up, walking to the sink slowly. She doesn’t want to do anything to provoke another outburst.
It takes brushing her teeth twice to get rid of the taste and smell. She makes a mental note to grab a mint from the kitchen counter once she’s done in the bathroom for good measure.
Clarke reaches in front of her to open the cabinet on top of the sink, moving a couple of plastic bottles out of the way until she finds the one she’s looking for. She uncaps it and shakes it against her palm until two ibuprofen pills come out. She pops them in her mouth before closing and returning the container to the cabinet.
She walks to the kitchen, dragging her feet. She’s never been great at dealing with hangovers, but she’s still not sure how much of what she’s feeling is due to the alcohol and how much actually has to do with the fact that Lexa will be meeting Costia later today and her dumb brain won’t stop reminding her of it.
Grabbing an empty glass from the pile of clean dishes sitting by the kitchen sink, she takes it to her fridge and presses it against the dispenser until it’s filled to the brim with water. She brings it to her lips, sipping just enough so she can swallow the pills and then taking bigger gulps, hoping it will help subdue the headache.
Does she have anything in her medicine cabinet to help with heartaches, too?
She shakes her head at that lame thought, never one to wallow in self-pity. She’s fine. Correction– she will be fine. All she needs to do is take this day to feel sorry for herself and then move on. She did it with her last boyfriend, after he decided two years together didn’t mean enough and still left her for the new girl he met at work.
Certainly she can do the same now. She’s only known Lexa for six months and they aren’t even together. Surely this is nothing more than a crush that got out of hand. Clarke can find a way to be happy for her friend and have enough energy to find other ways to be happy herself.
She finishes drinking the whole glass of water and then refills it before walking back to the couch. Moving a couple of throw pillows, she finds the remote control under one of them and she takes it, turning the TV on so it will give her something to distract her and stop her thoughts from wandering back to Lexa.
Lexa with the soft eyes, looking at Clarke with worry after she said she wasn’t feeling well. Lexa with a playful smile, teasing her for having low tolerance to spices. Lexa, Lexa, Lexa.
She sits down, defeated. Placing her glass on the table, she now looks around to find her phone. She doesn’t even know what time it is, the clock on her kitchen oven and microwave still blinking 12:00 back at her from the last time the lights went out.
She pats around, trying to remember where she may have left it last night. She knows she threw it at the couch as soon as she got home, and doesn’t remember seeing it again since then.
“Aha!” she exclaims to no one once her fingers find it lodged between the couch’s cushions. She wraps them around the device, pulling it and touching the screen to activate it.
Six unread messages and one missed call stare back at her. She reads the messages, careful to use the preview instead of opening them in the app. She’s pretty sure she has the ‘read’ option turned off, but she doesn’t want to chance it.
A sense of guilt overtakes her with each message she reads. She can imagine Lexa tapping her fingers on her knee, the way she does when she’s anxious. Sometimes her knee starts bouncing up and down, too, if she’s nervous.
Clarke sucks in a shaky breath, trying to ignore the face that’s peeking at her from the bottom of the screen, below her notifications. It was only a few weeks ago when they took that picture after their weekly Friday brunch. They had decided to switch things up and order smoothies to go and walk to a park instead of ordering in and sitting at their usual corner table.
The sun had been shining bright in the sky, not a cloud in sight. A light breeze helped keep them cool as they sat under a big tree. Clarke had sat down with her back against the trunk, an inaudible gasp escaping her lips when Lexa decided to sit down between Clarke’s legs, her back pressed against her.
Lexa had scooted down further to rest her head against Clarke’s chest and the only thing Clarke could think about was whether or not Lexa could feel her heart pounding against her chest. After recovering from their unexpected sitting position, Clarke had pulled out her phone and had asked Lexa to snap a picture of them, setting it as her lock screen background shortly after.
Since then she has spent countless times tapping her phone’s screen just to see that picture show up.
Right now she wishes she had picked something different instead.
She’s pulled from her thoughts when the object in question vibrates in her hands, her heart beating wildly at the thought of Lexa messaging her again. She’s relieved to see it’s Raven this time, although her message doesn’t do much to help her conflicted mind.
Raven [12:48pm]: You alive? Lexa’s worried sick about you, she won’t stop blowing up my phone
Raven [12:48pm]: I already told her you’re probably just trying to sleep it off, but she knows you too well, Griff
Raven [12:48pm]: What do you want me to say?
Clarke sighs, running a hand through her hair. She’s grateful for her friend. Raven has always had her back and she knows she can count on her to help her out of this situation, too. But Lexa has done nothing to deserve the silent treatment, so this is something Clarke needs to deal with herself.
Clarke [12:50pm]: As alive as I can be after drinking at least half a bottle of bourbon
The thought alone almost makes her want to throw up again. She presses her hand to her lips, willing her stomach to calm down before she starts typing again.
Clarke [12:51pm]: But don’t worry about it, I’ll reply to her now
Clarke [12:51pm]: Thanks, Rae
The last message ends with a kiss emoji, knowing that’ll be enough for her friend to know Clarke appreciates her.
Clarke then takes a deep breath, as if messaging Lexa needs preparation. She hates feeling this way. Lexa had managed to become one of her best friends in such a short period of time, something as simple as reaching out via text had never been a difficult task. But now she doesn’t know where they stand– Well. She knows where she stands for Lexa. As friends. That’s all she ever was, all she’ll ever be.
Another deep breath and then she finally gathers enough courage to write and send a message.
Clarke [12:54pm]: Sorry, still under the weather, but getting better
She hates the thought of lying to Lexa, but what is she supposed to do? Say ‘Sorry, still trying to recover from the news that you’ll be getting back together with your ex, but hey! Don’t you worry about me.’?
No… that probably wouldn’t work.
Clarke [12:55pm]: Thanks for asking, though :)
She adds a minute later, including a smiley face even though she doesn’t feel like smiling at all. It’s mostly as a peace offering, silently asking for forgiveness for ignoring Lexa’s messages since last night. She stares at her phone, waiting for a reply. She knows Lexa has been by her phone all morning; there’s no way she didn’t already see her message.
Three excruciating minutes go by before Lexa replies.
Lexa [12:58pm]: Glad you’re feeling better
No smiley face. No additional messages. Nothing.
Clarke sighs, tightly closing her eyes. It feels as if she’s already losing Lexa even before Costia has had a chance to swoop back in, and all because she can’t set her emotions aside. It’s not Lexa’s fault Clarke has feelings for her (however big or small those feelings may be).
Granted, if Lexa wasn’t so fucking smart and witty and if she didn’t sometimes look at Clarke like she holds the world and if she didn’t smell so nice and if she didn’t–
Clarke shakes her head. That’s not helping.
She looks at her phone for a few minutes, contemplating whether to send her another message or not. She settles for the latter of the two, closing her messaging app and turning off the screen before she can get lost in Lexa’s shining green eyes again.
::::
The sun has gone down and apparently with it also Clarke’s need to throw up. She’s still not feeling one hundred percent, but definitely better than a few hours ago. Her head is still pounding, but only by her temples instead of her whole head.
She has been sitting on the couch all afternoon, letting the TV stream episode after episode of her favorite show. It doesn’t do much to keep her mind busy, but it’s a good enough distraction. She even dozed off again a little after 5 and has only been awake again for the past hour.
She hopes that doesn’t mean she’ll have trouble sleeping tonight. She’s looking forward to waking up on a new day, where her feelings for Lexa will be a thing of the past.
(She doesn’t actually believe that to be true, but a girl can dream.)
Her stomach grumbles then, reminding Clarke that she hasn’t really eaten anything for the past twenty-four hours, not since she left the Indian restaurant in a hurry. Apparently, according to her stomach, over twelve ounces of bourbon is not nutritious enough. Pfft.
She goes to the bathroom before heading into the kitchen, making sure to grab more ibuprofen to help completely get rid of her headache. She’s going through her fridge, trying to figure out what she can put together to have a half-decent meal when her doorbell rings.
It startles her, making her jump in place. She turns around, eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out who could be on the other side of the door. By process of elimination she assumes it’s Raven, since Lexa is out with Costia –Clarke tries her hardest to not think about their date and whether or not it’s going well– and Octavia is working late.
With that in mind, she approaches her front door and opens it, faltering when her eyes find Lexa standing there instead of Raven.
“Lexa?” she can’t stop her surprise from coating the other woman’s name.
“Hey,” Lexa says, walking in without waiting for an invitation. It’s nothing unusual, she has never needed an invitation and stopped waiting for one long ago, but it does leave Clarke standing by the entryway for a few seconds before her brain finally catches up enough to close the door.
“What–” she stops herself, making sure to soften her tone so her surprise doesn’t make the words that are coming out of her mouth next sound rude. “What are you doing here?” she asks, scanning Lexa.
She’s standing in Clarke’s living room, holding a paper bag in her hands. She’s wearing tight black pants and a low cut black top. Thin straps barely holding it up, Clarke can’t help but notice she isn’t wearing a bra. In one word, she looks hot .
Clarke doesn’t understand how her mouth can water while her throat completely dries up. But it does, so she has to clear it before she can speak again. “You look…” she lets her eyes travel over Lexa’s body unabashedly. “Fuck, Lex. You look amazing,” Clarke says, the slip of Lexa’s nickname inevitable at this point.
Lexa blushes, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “Thanks,” Lexa says, pushing a lone strand of hair behind her ear. Clarke will never stop wondering how the woman standing in front of her doesn’t realize how absolutely breathtaking she is.
Clarke finally finds the strength in her legs to move further into her apartment to stand a few feet away from Lexa. Standing this close she can smell Lexa’s perfume, the one Clarke knows she only wears for special occasions. That, combined with Lexa’s overall look reminds Clarke where she was tonight.
She tries to swallow past the lump that forms in her throat. “What are you doing here?” she has to ask again, because Lexa still hasn’t explained.
“Oh,” Lexa says, as if suddenly remembering herself. “I figured you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.” Clarke looks to her side to not give her answer away, but that is an answer in and of itself and Lexa knows that. When Clarke looks at her again, she’s wearing a soft smile. “So I brought you something to eat,” she says, holding up the paper bag.
“You know I usually would recommend chicken noodle soup until you feel better, but I know you’re more of the mindset of eating through it,” Lexa finishes with a smirk, and Clarke hates how well Lexa knows her.
“You didn’t have to,” is all Clarke can say. You didn’t have to stop your date with your ex to come take care of me, is what she doesn’t say.
“I know, but I wanted–” Lexa has moved to place the paper bag on the coffee table, and she stops talking when her eyes land on the object that’s been lying on it since last night. A certain bottle Clarke forgot to throw away, mostly because she hasn’t been away from the couch long enough.
Heart beating faster, Clarke braces herself for the question she knows is about to come. Lexa turns to her, brows furrowed. “Are you okay?” she asks, and her whole demeanor has softened.
“I’m fine,” Clarke says, trying to scramble for a good excuse. If she doesn’t provide one, she knows Lexa won’t stop pressing for answers.
(Shortly after they met, Lexa learned Clarke doesn’t really drink hard alcohol. Months later she found out the only time Clarke does drink hard alcohol is when she’s hurting – really hurting– like she was two and a half months ago when it was the tenth year anniversary of her dad’s passing.)
Lexa places the paper bag down and reaches for the bottle instead, picking it up. She examines it, as if not believing it’s there, in her hand, completely empty.
“Oh, that?” Clarke says through a nervous laugh. “I’m so messy,” she says, walking over to grab the bottle from Lexa’s hand and then walking to the kitchen, throwing it in the recyclables trash can. “That’s from days ago. Raven came over and we got bored. I ran out of beer and that was the only thing I had left, so we just shared a couple of glasses.”
It’s a lie, obviously. But she hopes it’s believable enough that Lexa will drop it. Lexa moves her eyes back to the table, and Clarke spots what she’s looking at before Lexa can say anything. “A glass,” she corrects, walking over to grab the lonely glass this time, taking it to the kitchen and leaving it in the sink, away from Lexa’s prying eyes. “We shared a glass.”
Unsure eyes are still fixed on her and Lexa looks like she’s trying to piece things together. It’s making Clarke uneasy, so she looks around to change the subject. That’s when she spots the paper bag again, the restaurant’s logo displayed on it.
“You got me food from The Grill?” she asks, her mouth watering and her chest expanding. That’s her favorite restaurant, one she had taken Lexa to the first time they went out together without Raven and Octavia. She talked about it non-stop before they got there, promising Lexa the food was out of this world.
She still remembers the way Lexa looked at her all night, listening to her rave about this appetizer and that entree and their wonderful dessert that they shared at the end of the night over candlelight.
If Clarke hadn’t chickened out she probably would have taken Lexa there on a date, instead of just a night out as friends. But she was too scared to ask her then, much like she is now.
“Yeah,” Lexa says, rubbing the back of her neck. “Costia and I went there for dinner tonight and I figured–”
The words stop registering at the mention of Costia and their date. Clarke stands there, staring at Lexa, watching her lips move, but no words are reaching her ears. All she can hear is her heart beating while simultaneously shattering at the thought of Lexa and Costia sitting at her favorite restaurant, sharing shy smiles and soft laughs over amazing food.
That could’ve been her. It could have been Clarke and Lexa if Clarke hadn’t been so scared of asking Lexa out. Although, if she thinks about it, there’s no way Lexa would’ve said yes. She’s clearly still hung up on Costia.
“Clarke?” Lexa’s voice brings her back and Clarke’s cheeks heat up when she realizes Lexa probably asked her a question that she doesn’t have the answer to because she was too distracted imagining her world falling apart around her.
“Sorry,” Clarke says, shaking her head. “What did you say?”
Lexa takes a few steps toward her, now standing close. Too close for Clarke to be able to breathe properly. Her perfume engulfs her again, Lexa’s kind eyes searching her face. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she reaches for her hand then and Clarke’s sure Lexa can feel her thudding pulse against her fingertips.
Clarke looks at her, getting lost in green eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, to repeat that she’s fine, but the truth is she’s not. She’s not fine because this amazing woman is standing in front of her, looking at her like nothing else matters and Clarke can’t stand to think of a world where Lexa isn’t the one looking at her like that.
So she takes a deep breath, gathers all the courage she has –and even the one she lacks– and turns her hand around, palm up until she can intertwine their fingers.
Costia may have gone out with Lexa tonight, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t time for Clarke to tell Lexa how she really feels.
“Lexa, can we talk?” Clarke asks, pulling her softly to guide her to the couch. She thinks her heart is going to beat out of her chest, but she doesn’t care. She’s getting through this, no matter what.
She’s surprised when her pull is met with resistance, and she turns to look at Lexa with questioning eyes. She’s rooted to the spot.
“Actually,” Lexa says, looking down at their joined hands. “Costia is downstairs, so I should really get going.”
Clarke’s hand goes limp immediately, dropping Lexa’s hand. “Oh,” she says, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t realize–”
“Yeah. After dinner she offered to drop me off, but I told her I needed to get this to you,” Lexa says, pointing at the food she brought for Clarke.
The Grill is starting to become her least favorite restaurant.
“Since you’re on the way to my house it kinda worked out,” she says. Clarke can feel Lexa’s eyes searching hers, but Clarke refuses to look at her. Can’t stand the thought of looking at Lexa knowing she will walk out the door to go home with Costia.
“I see,” Clarke says, cursing internally for drinking all the bourbon she had left last night. She definitely needs it now more than ever. “Don’t keep her waiting, then,” she adds, forcing a smile on her face. She doesn’t even know if she’s successful.
Lexa nods. “But, whatever you wanted to talk about,” she says, placing her thumbs through the loops on her pants. “Tell me tomorrow, yeah? During our weekly brunch?”
Fuck. Clarke had completely forgotten about that. Tomorrow’s Friday, which means Lexa and her get together to grab something to eat.
Alone.
She doesn’t know why, but Clarke nods, even though being alone with Lexa after she’ll spend the night with Costia is the last thing she wants to do. “Sure,” she says, shrugging. She doesn’t know how she manages to stop her voice from cracking. “It wasn’t anything important anyway,” she lies.
Lexa’s phone goes off then, cutting through the quiet atmosphere. Clarke is grateful for the interruption, even though she knows exactly who’s messaging her.
“I should go,” Lexa says, looking between her phone and Clarke. She looks torn, although Clarke doesn’t know why. The decision was made long ago.
“Enjoy the rest of your night,” Clarke barely manages to say when they reach the front door.
“Thanks. Enjoy your dinner,” Lexa gives her a small smile and Clarke doesn’t know if she’ll be able to stop the sob she feels boiling its way up. “See you tomorrow?”
Clarke can’t do more than nod, afraid if she opens her mouth her feelings will come pouring out.
“I can’t wait,” Lexa says, giving her a final smile before turning around. Clarke closes the door behind her as soon as she can, turning to lean her back against it and sliding down until her butt touches the ground.
A sob does escape then, just as she brings her knees in, wrapping her arms around them and resting her forehead on her arms.
There’s no amount of medicine or bourbon that can cure the way she’s feeling right now.
::::
The sun is hiding somewhere behind a body of dense, dark clouds. Very fitting, Clarke thinks, as she sits by the window of the coffeeshop Lexa had picked out for them this week. They take turns between visiting their usual spot and picking a new place. It was Lexa’s turn to choose.
It only takes a quick scan around the store for Clarke to understand why Lexa had picked it. It’s small enough and there’s a nook with floor-to-ceiling shelves full of books, sofas laid out around it. It would be the perfect spot for Lexa to sink in with a random book and a steaming cup of coffee.
It would be part of Lexa’s paradise if such a thing existed.
Clarke picks at the sleeve covering her cup for the hundredth time since she bought her coffee a few minutes ago. Lexa had messaged her a little over five minutes ago saying she was running late, but to go ahead and order the usual because she would arrive soon.
So Clarke sits by the window, keeping an eye out for Lexa, coffee in front of her along with two sandwiches and Lexa’s drink. And she’s dreading their encounter more and more with each passing second.
She knows Lexa will ask her how she’s doing and Clarke’s going to have to lie and say she’s okay.
She knows she’ll have to ask about Costia and their date because what kind of friend would she be if she didn’t?
She knows she’ll hate every second of it, but she’s forcing herself to push through, because as much as the thought of Lexa being with someone else kills her, the thought of losing Lexa altogether is even worse. And that’s the only reason why she’s here today, despite every part of her body begging her to stay in her apartment this morning.
Because Clarke is Lexa’s friend and that’s the only thing that matters.
The bell hanging above the door rings when someone walks in, and Clarke’s eyes find Lexa an instant later. She’s standing by the entry, slightly out of breath. She’s looking around, trying to find Clarke, until her eyes land on her and Lexa’s face lights up.
Clarke’s chest constricts at the sight, but she tells her brain to tell her heart to get a fucking grip. She can’t allow herself to feel this way anymore.
“Hey,” Lexa says once she reaches their table. She sits down, placing the bag she was carrying on the ground, by her feet. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was terrible.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Clarke says, her hands returning to pick at the sleeve. Her mind is out of control, imagining Lexa being late because Costia was still in her apartment. Maybe wearing one of her old shirts and nothing else, begging Lexa to stay with her.
Maybe Lexa wanted to and just didn’t have the heart to cancel.
“I barely just got here anyway,” Clarke says, pushing Lexa’s coffee cup toward her. It’s still hot to the touch.
“Thanks,” Lexa smiles, taking the cup and grabbing her sandwich. “I’ll get you next time.”
The thought of ‘next time’s had always excited Clarke. The promise of meeting again, each Friday, no matter what, was what helped her get through the week most of the time.
She wonders how long it will last now that Lexa and Costia are back together.
Clarke begins picking at the sleeve yet again, this time more furiously. She’s about to rip it off completely when warm fingers wrap around her wrist, stopping her.
“Hey,” Lexa says quietly, pushing her hand away slowly. “Everything okay?”
Clarke nods in response. “Yeah, sorry. Just– stressed.”
Lexa tilts her head to the side. Clarke can almost hear the cogs in her head turning, trying to filter through pieces of information to find what’s stressing her out. “Work?” she asks.
Truth is, there’s nothing stressful going on in her life.
Nothing outside of Lexa, anyway.
So Clarke lies. “Yeah,” she says. “Just a few deadlines I’m worried I won’t meet. But it’s fine.”
Lexa smiles at her, big and bright. “You got this,” she says, giving her wrist a light squeeze. Clarke hopes against hope that Lexa will remove her hand after that, but she doesn’t. She keeps it there and it feels like the spot Lexa is touching is both burning and freezing at the same time.
Clarke doesn’t know how she’ll get out of here alive.
Lexa turns Clarke’s wrist then, making her palm face up. “I’ve always loved this tattoo,” Lexa says, now running just her pointer’s fingertip over Clarke’s exposed wrist. She traces the black ink, her touch almost imperceptible. Clarke struggles to stop her eyes from fluttering shut at the soft contact.
That tattoo appeared three years after Jake’s death, despite her mom’s objection. Clarke was missing her dad as usual, but the feeling was growing stronger, the need for some sort of connection bigger than ever. So she had spent all night drawing things that reminded her of him, until she landed on the symbol now etched on her skin.
She remembers the first time Lexa laid eyes on it, approximately three months ago. They were hanging out at Lexa’s place, just the two of them. Clarke had been wearing a long sleeve shirt, winter seeping into spring, the weather still too cold for anything less. But Lexa had cooked and Clarke had offered to wash the dishes in return, the need to roll up her sleeves imminent.
So she had and Lexa’s curious eyes eventually caught sight of it. She had walked over, taking her wrist much like she had done just now, bringing it closer to her face. Clarke still remembers the way her breath had made her skin tingle, one of the first signs that Clarke felt more than just friendly feelings toward Lexa.
Clarke had opened up then, about her dad, his death. About how heavy it weighed on her, still. About how having that symbol on her wrist helped, even after all these years. Clarke said she knew it sounded silly, that something as simple as a drawing could make something as serious as death feel lighter, expecting Lexa to agree.
What she hadn’t expected was for Lexa to bring her wrist up to her lips, kissing the tattoo softly. She had looked at her then, wide eyes and parted lips, before saying it wasn’t silly. She understood.
For the first time in her life, Clarke knew what it felt like to really, truly be understood.
It wouldn’t be the last time.
Clarke shudders at the memory, trying to blink away the heaviness in her heart. She wonders if tattooing a different symbol on her other wrist will ever help with the piece of her Lexa is taking away now.
“Where did you go?” Lexa asks.
Clarke shakes her head in response. “No where, I’m right here.”
Lexa nods, finally letting go of her arm so she can open her sandwich instead. Clarke joins her, and they both start eating silently. Clarke hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she took the first bite.
“Did you enjoy the food last night?” Lexa asks between bites.
“Yeah, it was great,” Clarke says, but it’s a lie. She couldn’t bring herself to touch the food last night. She had barely managed to drag herself to bed, hunger the last thing on her mind. “Thanks again for dropping it off. You really didn’t have to.”
Lexa smiles, moving her right shoulder up and down. “It was no problem. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Clarke wants to reach over, take her face into her hands and pull her until she can kiss her because no one else in this world has ever taken care of her the way Lexa does. But as quickly as that thought goes through her mind, she pushes it away. She can’t think like that anymore. Needs to stop thinking about Lexa as anything other than a friend. And she knows there’s only one way to do that.
“So,” she says, swallowing the last bite of her sandwich. She feels like it’ll all come back out soon enough, but she pushes through. She needs to ask the question, needs to know the answer so she can stop holding on to slivers of hope. “How did things go with Costia?”
Lexa is mid-way swallowing a bite of her sandwich and she chokes on it at the question. Clarke’s eyes widen in panic, about to stand up to pat Lexa’s back, but Lexa motions her to stay. She shakes her hand, using the other one to form a fist so she can hit her chest a few times. After a couple of minutes she has recovered, although her eyes remain watery from the coughing fit.
“Sorry,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. She takes a deep breath, and then continues, “It went… okay, I guess. I don’t know.”
She looks conflicted and Clarke doesn’t know if it’s because they are talking about it or because of their meeting last night.
“Are you guys…” Clarke trails off, needing to take a moment before asking the question she’s afraid to hear the answer to. “Did you guys get back together?” she tries as hard as she can to strip her voice of any emotion.
It may come off sounding a little robotic, but that’s better than exposing her real feelings about the whole situation.
Lexa shakes her head. “Not really. It’s too soon,” she says. “A lot has changed in the last four months. I don’t know,” she turns to look out the window then. Her answer leaves Clarke in a weird state of limbo. She’s relieved to hear they aren’t back together, but it doesn’t seem like they won’t get back together, either. It sounds like Lexa is considering it, like maybe she’s guarded and not willing to take Costia back right away after she decided to pack her bags and leave Lexa behind.
Clarke slips into her role of best friend, pushing all other feelings down, deep down. She reaches over then, taking Lexa’s hand in hers. “You’ll figure it out, Lex. You always do.”
Lexa looks at her, eyes hopeful and it takes Clarke’s breath away. Once again she’s overwhelmed by this need to pull her in and kiss her senseless, but she knows she can’t.
That’s not what she is to Lexa and Clarke swears to herself it’s something she’ll learn to live with.
She just needs a little more time.
::::
By some sort of silent agreement neither one of them bring up Costia again. Instead, they discuss the things they usually talk about: their jobs, Lexa’s latest book, the new show Clarke is hooked on.
“You have to watch it,” Clarke says, pulling on the sleeve of Lexa’s light sweater as they walk side by side. They just left the coffee shop, both agreeing it was a good choice considering the change in the weather and the stormy clouds hovering above them, and definitely a place they should revisit once the weather starts getting colder again.
Lexa’s laugh at her enthusiasm encompasses Clarke’s ears and it makes her chest fill with affection for the woman walking by her side. “You always say that,” Lexa says, casting a sideways glance in her direction. “They’re never as good as you say, though. Let’s be honest, Clarke. You’re into trash TV.”
A hand playfully shoves Lexa’s shoulder, Clarke’s mouth shaped like an ‘O’ at the accusation. Lexa stumbles for a second but quickly recovers, looking at Clarke with a familiar glint in her eyes.
For the first time since hearing the news about Costia being back, Clarke doesn’t feel that heavy weight she’s been carrying around for the past two days. She lets her mind push all thoughts of anyone that’s not Lexa out of her head, allowing herself to enjoy the other woman’s company like there’s not a care in the world.
Lexa loops her arm through Clarke’s then, stepping in closer and tightening her grip. “You know it’s true,” she says with a smirk, and now Clarke understands why she’s holding on so tight. So she can’t escape her grip and push her again.
She tries to break out from her grasp to no avail.
“Coward,” Clarke mutters. Lexa snickers from beside her.
They continue walking next to each other, Lexa’s arm still looped through Clarke’s. Both of them ended up parking in the same garage, which is about five blocks away. Lexa mentioned she had seen Clarke’s car and had even managed to park close to it.
Thunder vibrates through the sky, a light breeze picking up. “I love when it gets like this,” Lexa says, her head leaning back to look up at the sky, blindly letting Clarke guide her as they keep walking. Raindrops begin falling from above, landing on the ground around them and on their clothes, but they’re small enough that they’re not really getting wet yet.
Clarke acknowledges her with a soft hum, knowing one of the things Lexa likes about the rain is to hear the sound of the wind, the storm and the raindrops hitting the ground. There’s no need to fill in the quietness.
They walk for another two blocks in complete silence. Lexa seems to be content with the rain and Clarke’s just happy to be with Lexa. Lexa who looks so soft, damp hair sticking to her head and face, small drops accumulating on her forehead before slowly sliding down.
Lexa whose eyes just shine when she looks at Clarke, bright smile on her face, as if the sun wasn’t completely covered by clouds ready to unleash a storm on them.
As if on cue, thunder strikes again, except this one seems to be much closer. Clarke jumps a little, startled by the loud sound. Lexa instinctively slides her palm down Clarke’s arm, now holding her hand instead. She gives it a light squeeze.
Another strike, this time further away but accompanied by heavy downpour. Clarke can see the parking garage in the distance, only a block away and she can’t wait to be in the safety its multiple covered floors offers. She tightens her hold on Lexa’s hand before she begins running, pulling Lexa with her.
“Clarke!” she hears Lexa yell her name between laughs. “What are you doing?”
It’s now raining so hard and loud Clarke barely manages to hear her. She doesn’t know if Lexa will be able to make out her answer when she replies, “Running to safety!”
It takes them a couple of minutes to reach the parking garage, finally standing somewhere where the rain can’t get them anymore. Clarke’s slightly out of breath and they are both soaking wet.
“I hate your stupid rain,” Clarke grumbles, looking down at her clothes. Her jeans are uncomfortably sticking to her legs, her shirt stuck to her torso as well. A shiver runs through her body as soon as she starts cooling down from the short run.
“I don’t know,” Lexa says, shrugging. “It’s a cute look on you,” she says and Clarke’s eyes snap up to meet Lexa’s. She’s looking at Clarke with a goofy smile on her face, her clothes ruined as well.
“Shut up,” Clarke says, looking away. She hugs her body then, feeling self-conscious, the want to reach up to brush Lexa’s hair away from her face too strong.
“Are you still going to the party tomorrow?” Lexa asks as they start walking to the staircase so they can climb the two flights of stairs it will take to reach the floor they parked in.
Clarke nods, running her hands down her arms, trying to push any excess water away so her car won’t get too wet once she gets in. “Of course. Aren’t you?”
“No, yeah. Definitely,” Lexa says. Clarke looks at her, sensing her hesitation. She waits patiently until Lexa speaks again. “Costia’s coming, too,” she says so more quietly, but Clarke can still hear it loud and clear, her brain going into panic mode at the thought.
Her steps falter, her right foot bumping against a step and she almost trips, but manages to hold on to the railing on the last second.
“Are you okay?” Lexa asks, reaching a hand out to grab Clarke’s elbow.
“I’m fine,” Clarke doesn’t mean to, but she can’t help it when she shakes Lexa’s hold off of her. She can’t deal with Lexa’s touch and affection right now. Costia is going to be at the party tomorrow. Costia and Lexa. Together.
Focusing on the steps in front of her, Clarke avoids Lexa’s eyes on her. She knows she probably hurt her feelings when she pulled away, but she can’t think about it, her mind too busy running over all the scenarios she will have to face tomorrow.
Lexa and Costia walking in together, hand in hand.
Costia leaning in to whisper something in Lexa’s ear and Lexa throwing her head back, laughing like it’s the funniest thing she’s heard all her life.
Clarke shakes her head, screaming at her brain to stop torturing her and trying to scramble for an excuse, any reason she can give so she doesn’t have to go. But it’s Raven’s birthday and she can’t miss it. And she just told Lexa she was going. And she’s trying, desperately trying to remain friends with Lexa, even if the thought of seeing her with her new-old girlfriend is killing her.
Suddenly, her wet clothes is the last thing on her mind.
“She’s looking forward to seeing you guys,” Lexa says as they reach their floor. “She asked me to hang out on Saturday, but I told her I couldn’t because of Raven’s party. She asked if she could join and I figured it would be okay.”
Clarke doesn’t know why Lexa is telling her all of this. She wishes she would just stop talking about it altogether. She gets it, her and Costia are… exploring their relationship or whatever the hell they want to call it and Clarke will have to deal with the fact that Costia’s back in their lives, but can Lexa just stop fucking talking about it for a second?
“Do you think Raven will mind?” Lexa asks. They’re now standing by Clarke’s car, Lexa’s only a few stalls away.
Clarke wants to say yes, that she will. Wants to use Raven as an excuse so she can tell Lexa not to bring Costia around because she doesn’t want to see her. Doesn’t want to see them . But she knows she can’t do that.
She’s still not brave enough to flat out appease Lexa’s worry, so instead she just shrugs and says, “I don’t know. Guess you should ask her.”
“Right. Maybe I shouldn’t–”
“I gotta go, Lexa,” Clarke says, looking around as if trying to plan her escape. “I’m running late.”
Eyebrows furrowed, Lexa looks at her confused, but quickly shakes it off, nodding her head. “Yeah, of course. See you tomorrow, Clarke.”
Already in her car, Clarke closes the door, still hating the way her clothes feel against her skin, but even more so the way the weight is back in her chest, twisting and tightening even worse than before.