Chapter Text
September
Your name looks small, insignificant, as you sign off on the last piece of paper. It´s only that; a piece of paper. Still, it holds significance, this moment weighs heavy and will continue to do so for a long time, because you made a decision. A decision that might just as well turn out to be the wrong one, but at least you made a decision. Good or bad. And that in itself was right.
You are sure of that.
You lean back, one hand reaching automatically up to run through your long dark hair. A signature and that's it; it's yours. The thought pulls a tender smile to your lips and an even greater smile to your eyes. The realization sinks in slow and deep settle somewhere in your core and quickly fills you up with something that could only be described as euphoria. A silent euphoria that makes your fingers tingle with excitement. Yeah, that's what it is - excitement.
“Why were you so hesitant?”, comes Wick´s question, his voice drawing you back to reality.
A small smile teases the corner of your mouth, but you keep it in and shrug your shoulders. He pulls at the corner of the documents and slides them into his hands. You watch as he files the contract and then turns back round to face you, arms coming up to cross over his chest as he leans back against the metal plan chest. His eyes search yours for an answer.
He doesn't understand your silence. Never has. Perhaps it's better like that, even though a lot of unnecessary question could have been answered without words.
“Does it matter? I'm here now”, you tell him with another shrug.
“Yeah. Question is… for how long”, he replies and hitches his eyebrows. You don't have an answer for him, perhaps he knows that, either way, he loosens up when you stand your ground and hands over a set of keys to the club. He hums as you weigh the keys in your hand as he walks out leaving you alone in the office. You turn the keys over in your own hand, there´s some weight to them, both metaphorically and literally speaking. It´s good. Not only that, it´s right you think.
Without allowing yourself to think that much about it you jerk your phone out of your back pocket and aim it down to your hand, snapping a picture of the keys. You´ve sent it within seconds and slip the phone back into your pocket. It´s like keeping up with an unsaid promise - to share the little things.
Even though this little thing is quite big.
It's been a month soon. A month of texting and talking, spending far too many hours on Skype doing nothing at all and forgetting time filling up that void in your chest. It feels new. You doubt there will come a day when it doesn't still feel new. And that is alright, as long as it is, as long as it's still there. As long as there is something for you to feel, to reach in for deep within you or reach out over the ocean to touch, it´s okay if it feels new.
That giddy feeling in your stomach is much welcomed and you cherish every moment of it lingering there long after you've hung up.
The course of events during the wedding weekend back home four weeks ago turned out to bring you more painful memories and hope for the future that you expected. And even though nothing really changed after that, your whole life changed.
The memory of your heart in your throat, the panic flowing through your veins like poison, as her piercing blue eyes met yours still causes you to draw for a new breath. Breathe, one of the easiest things in the world is hard in her company and you've realized that her ability to take your breath away won't disappear anytime soon.
You don't want it to.
“Reyes. The first one is here, she looks like a go-getter”, Atom yells from within the club and you roll your eyes.
“Then go get her”, you yell back, tossing the keys up in the air and catch it with your other hand once before you shove them down your pocket.
Before leaving the office you pick the blazer of the chair that Wick ceremoniously made you unwrap earlier. You put it on, the black fabric tightens around your shoulders as you roll up the sleeves to expose your forearms. It feels good. Right even. When you walk out to the club, inspecting the decor once more on your way over the dancefloor, Atom´s leaning against the bar with the list of interviews in his hands. He looks up as you approach, his brown eyes taking you in this new attire and a well too big smirk spreads over his lips. You shake your head at his stupid grin and snatch the list out of his hands. “Let's get this show on the road, shall we”.
“Whatever you say, boss”.
You can get used to that nickname. It sounds good coming from him.
Hell, it sounds good overall.
//
You wake from a dreamless sleep to the sound of Bellamy's voice on the other side of your door. His voice is muffled and you can make out anything of what he´s saying. The pillow you've tucked your head under in your sleep doesn't make it any easier. In this more or less awake state the heat and suffocating feeling of pressing your face into the mattress become too much. With a grunt you roll onto your side, pushing the pillow off your head. You peek out from heavy eyelids into the darkroom. The only light comes from the sun sneaking its light through the gap between the windows and blinds. Streams of sunlight hit the floor and you let your eyes get used to the reflection that fills up your view before sitting up.
Your limbs ache comfortably with the sleep that still lingers in your muscles. With the heels of your palms, you rub as much sleep out of your eyes that they allow, yawning as you fling your legs over the side of the bed. Bellamy's voice is much clearer now, but you can still not understand a single word he says; it all just sounds like mumbles and grunting. Which wouldn't be much of a surprise because he's not much of a morning person, he´s actually even worse than his little sister whom you've had several arguments with before breakfast during the time you've known each other.
Although, they would both argue that you're the worst.
The air is humid and a part of you almost miss the winter, or at the very least the coming autumn months. The cold is easier to deal with than this inescapable heath. With a low grunt, you leave the bed, ignoring the pair of sweatpants laying in a pile next to the bed and instead of pulling on the shirt you stole from Bellamy the other day. It reaches far down your back and covers you up enough to leave the room. As you open the door with one hand, the other warp your body in the shirt tightly.
The much brighter light in the hallway forces you to close your eyes momentarily when you've got the door open enough to sneak out. You´ve barely set a foot out of the room when Bellamy appears from the kitchen, his phone attached to his ear. His hair is ruffled and his eyes are filled with remains of sleep. His bare chest heaves slow and steady, even though his other hand is clenched around the pocket of his grey sweat shorts, revealing that even though his calm breathing he´s holding back anger and frustration.
His eyes close for a split second and your own wait impatiently for them to meet you.
The dark bags under them worry you.
He works way too much and sleeps no more than necessary to get through another day. Something that started as taking on an extra shift has gradually turned into working twenty-four seven. You´ve tried to talk some sense into him about the matter, but it's all talk to deaf ears. Not even Octavia seems to be able to get through to him these days. He stops in his tracks, his dark brown eyes meeting your blue ones and he mimics a silent ‘sorry’ as if he understands that he's the reason for you being up at this hour. Before you can respond he disappears into his room and you are left standing outside your own.
The light has done its job by now and your eyes are no longer dimmed with sleep.
Even though you had just planned on checking in on him and what he was doing this early, you might as well stay up now when you´re up. Although you have no idea what the time is, only that you shouldn't be awake. With slow and somewhat steady steps you make pad into the kitchen, determined to get some caffeine to at least get a kick-start of the day. Thankfully Bellamy has already put some coffee on.
“At least that's something”, you mumble to yourself with a shake of your head.
After pouring yourself a cup you leave it to cool so that it´s no longer scolding hot and you return to your room to retrieve your phone. If you're going to stay up you might just as well do some good and go through some emails.
Especially that one Wells sent you asking about that job you might have arranged for him. You´ve kept up with your promise and even though the number of times you talk each week are fewer, you still talk on a weekly basis and if everything turns out like you hope for he could move out here. It was his idea, to move that is, you figured he'd grown tired of working for his father and putting up with all the bullshit that comes along with it. In the beginning, you only talked about him coming down to stay with you, with Bellamy´s approval of Wells crashing on the couch for a while (he laughed when you asked him and you already felt bad for Wells at that point) but after one of the trainees quit at the health centre a spot opened up. It was an opportunity Wells was eager to take, even if it cost him the wrath of his father.
You're deep in thought when you unlock the phone, you're immediately notified about a new message and you open it without thinking much about out. When your eyes take in the image of a set of keys displayed on the screen you smile.
Raven (4:35am): Everything's signed now. Crazy right?! Call me after classes
That´s another promise you've kept up with.
One that started with getting in that cab with her, sitting in silence to the airport, just sitting there with her with your hand in hers, fingers interlaced. It started with following her to security, only letting go for a moment to let her get her passport out. It hadn´t been easy to let the wall crumble, but the moment you told her the truth the weight fell off of your shoulders; the truth that you couldn't, wouldn't let her go without knowing that there's nothing to fight for.
But there was.
So it started with tears and fingers interlacing, holding onto each other for a small eternity (and having her back in your arms was like coming up for air, oxygen has never tasted better than in that moment) and then promising each other to try. You thought that it would be hard, that finding a way back to her and into her life would be tough, but since you've already been there all it took was to stay honest.
And a lot of long hours on Skype.
The smile on your lips stretches far beyond the corners of your mouth until your cheeks ache.
Clarke (6:05am): That's amazing Rae! I finish at three
You're more than awake when you sit down at the kitchen table next and you're already counting down until you'll hear her voice again.
-----
October
The cheers are deafening. They build up at a steady rhythm and erupt at their full intensity, causing the floor to shake and the bottles in the liquor cabinet rattle. It´s been going on for a while now, for as long as your back has been pressed against the wall. The only solitude you've to manage to find is in your office, although that solitude does not come with silence. The counting number of bodies in the building has upped the temperature, which explains why you've vacated the floor below the vent. Your legs are stretched out on the concrete floor, the brace is uncomfortable and your kneecap aches. You try to shift your weight a little to let your left side relax, working yet another fourteen-hour shift sure has put a strain on your leg. It doesn't hurt, just aches, the unwanted numbness shoots through your thigh from the knee whilst the rest of your body only hums with tiredness.
Another cheer rolls through the building, pushing its way through the walls and under the door until it fills up your mind. Soon after follows an even louder one. They melt into each other, run through your body like one wave after another.
Clarke´s laughter filters out the sound of a hundred voices and you can´t help the smile that spreads across your lips.
”You weren't kidding when you said that it would be chaos”, she says between uneven breaths tainted with laughter.
Your eyes flicker to the closed door as another cheer fills up the room. “It's an absolute mayhem out there”.
She goes quiet for a while, not the uncomfortable kind, just quiet like she's waiting for something. You missed this, the easy silence that only she can offer you. You still miss it, even though your phone bill proves that you've spent an increasing amount of time calling overseas, but now it's more of an addiction than a missing piece of your life. An addiction she gladly keeps up with.
You breathe out slowly, emptying your chest to leave room for the sound of her breathing. Another smile graces your lips when you catch her giggling. Your eyes close momentarily and your head falls back against the wall. It´s like the rest of the world, however small it is in this moment, falls away and all you see is the memory of blue ocean eyes, long wavy locks of golden hair and silky smooth skin. It´s far from real, but it´s a good memory. Good enough to send shivers down your spine when you imagine her rising chest in perfect unison with her breaths. It´s in these moments that you miss her the most, in the middle of everything else, when your mind is filled with musts and needs she still fills up the corners with happiness and longing. No matter what you do, she´s there with you, just like before, only now it doesn´t hurt like it used to.
“Do you need to go?”, she asks quietly and your lips are once again quirked up into a half-smile.
“No. Not yet”, you murmur and imagine her blue eyes closing to your words.
It's chaos.
And it´s you and her. And it's everything you could have asked for.
”So did you hear about Octavia?”.
“Yeah. She´s gone mad”, you scoff and once again Clarke´s laugh causes your eyes to glimmer with joy. God, you´d do anything to hear that sound for the rest of your life. “Although I don't know, I can see it you know, she'd look good in a uniform so I guess I´ll support it”, you continue with a proudness to your words. It´s true, Octavia is the picture-perfect candidate and when that girl puts her mind to something, she gets it.
“Constable Blake”, Clarke exhale; that same proudness filling up her breath. Then she sighs and you can´t help the tug at your chest at the sound. ”She's so badass”.
“You are too”, the words fall off your tongue without hesitation and they tug at your chest until you let out the breath you've held in.
”I don´t know about that”.
“I do”, you argue and there´s another sigh coming from the other side on the line, this time it's accompanied by a tender smile. You know it is. “How´s the sketching going?”, you ask, mostly because you won't be able to stand another moment of silence without accidentally saying something you can't take back. Not that you would want to take it back, but once it's out there she'd know and it's too early for that.
(She already knows, she just hasn't admitted it to herself yet.)
”Not that good. I´m bored with sketching fruit. I need my muse”, Clarke replies with a suggestive tone to her voice.
“Sleeping muse, you mean”.
”Peaceful. Beautiful. Angelic. Take your pick”.
You bite the inside of your cheek, ears burning as the words settle in your core. You glance over at the clock hanging off the opposite wall; you've been locked away in your small room of solitude for over half an hour. Much longer than you planned, it´s nothing new though - most plans involving Clarke have a way of turning out differently.
“You're a creep. I should go”, you answer and groan as you get on your feet. The numbness has spread further up your thigh and you cuss under your breath as you massage your knee. You should be used to it by now, still, the unwanted feeling makes you reach down to work it out of the muscle. “I´ll call you on my way home?”.
”You better”.
//
You´re not good with patience. Well, that's not true, you're just extremely bad at waiting around for Raven to get back to you. It´s been getting worse. Ever since you two started talking she´s become a part of your daily routine and then, without warning, she became more than that. It´s a lot like it was during the year; she's everywhere and nowhere. She's a part of you.
Bellamy hums on something that sounds surprisingly similar to Rihanna´s Work, his thumbs tapping along to the beat in his head on the cart, he only stops for a second as he stops in front of the aisle for snacks. You eye him suspiciously when he continues over to the next aisle, clearly ignoring his cravings for all foods unhealthy.
“Who are you”, you tease and Bellamy shoots you a look over his shoulder.
“What's next on the list?”, he replies and nods towards the piece of paper sticking out of your jacket pocket. You hand over the paper and he unfolds it. “Ketchup”, he reads out loud and pushes the cart forward along the next three aisles.
Without thinking you pull your phone out of your back pocket and type in a new text, you send it with a grin smeared across your face.
Clarke (7:56pm): I relish the fact that you´ve mustard the time to ketchup with me
“Could you ask please ask Raven to stop being so needy”, you hear Bellamy in front of you, clearly sarcastic and unnecessarily annoying.
You direct your gaze to him and he laughs quietly.
Raven (7:59pm): Sorry, wrong number
You giggle quietly while padding after Bellamy, eyes fixed at the screen as you type in an answer.
Clarke (8:01pm): I know you like my puns
“Do you need this?”, Bellamy asks quietly and you snap out of your bubble.
Your head jerks up, eyes taking in the sight of Bellamy holding up a tampon with his back to you. A smirk fills up your lips, with a click of your tongue against the roof of your mouth.
“You know that's not my brand”. Bellamy turns and you shake your head at his somewhat flustered look. For someone who does most of the shopping and also happens to have an extremely verbal sister, he´s incredibly shy when it comes to these kinds of things.
“Is that a no?”, he asks, the tops of his ear screaming red. You only shake your head and turn back to your phone.
Raven (8:05pm): I like you. I could do it without the puns
Clarke (8:06pm): :(
“I'm starting to believe that thing is glued to your hand”, Bellamy comments, you take that as a hint and drop the phone into the pocket of your jacket.
“You're one to talk”, you counter.
He sighs, practically halfway to giving up the argument before it even begins. “It´s work”, he replies as you slide past him, one hand reaching out to snatch a loaf of bread off the shelf and the other pushing Bellamy's hand off the cart.
“I know”. You shoot him a pointed look. He only sighs once again and steps aside. “Rent is up next week”, you change the subject, knowing that he won't answer any of your questions even if you pressure him.
“I´ve already paid for it”. You stop in your tracks, confusion written all over your face. He shrugs his shoulders as he explains, “I had the money so I paid. You can take the next one”.
“I can't figure you out”, you snort.
“Oh no, I´m too complicated for you, Griff”.
The name makes you wrinkle your nose. “Stop calling me that, it´s a bird´s name”.
“How are things going with you two anyway?”, he then asks clearly referring back to his previous comment. You avoid his gaze, pushing the car more forcefully towards the cashiers. “Come on, I'm the roommate, that gives me first-hand information privilege”, he argues, pulling laughter from you.
“You´ve already talked to O, haven´t you?”.
He shakes his head, only to nod a second later. “Yes”, he confirms and you roll your eyes at his childishness. Although, however childish he is, he won't let go of it and nudges your shoulder. “Talk to me”, he says and you know that it's an offer this time.
“It´s good. We're… friends”, you finally get out and the word ‘friends’ sounds awful linked to Raven after all these months.
You´re not the only one that thinks that considering the sceptical look Bellamy gives you. “Friends?”.
“Friends”, you say confirmative and his eyebrows jerk up, hinting at his scepticism. “Don't do that”, you sigh.
“I did nothing!”, he laughs and you roll your eyes once more.
When he still looks at you with that stupid face you punch his arm. It's practically a reflex, he mouths a silent ‘ouch’ and rubs his arm with a pout.
“The eyebrow thing you do, stop it!”.
Of course, you telling him to stop only intrigues him to do it again. You narrow your eyes at him and he steps back, out of your reach, with his hands in the air. He’s an idiot, your very close and trusted idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. Once he lets his hands fall to his sides again you exhale. The words that sit on your tongue demand to be verbalized and so with a deep breath, you tell him, letting the tug at your chest take over for a moment, “I don't want to rush it, neither does she. We're talking and that is good. Really good”.
“Talking about moving things… forward?”.
He tries. He really does and that's why you love him. He brings out the best in you and supports you in ways you imagine only a brother can. It still catches you by surprise when you notice that glimpse in his eye when he looks at you at times; it's the same way he looks at Octavia. The only person that has looked at you like that before him was Wells, and it's special and precious. He is special.
He nudges your shoulder when you don't answer him and you step towards him this time. You linger by his side for a few seconds, absorbing his comfort. He puts his arm around your shoulders, holding you steady to his side as you stop in the line to the cashier.
“Come on, Clarke, how long are you two going to put this off. It's been a year. Just be honest about how you feel”, he tells you.
“She knows”.
“She knows or you´ve told her?”.
There's an answer to that question. An answer you rather not let be said out loud.
His sweet, brown eyes search yours for it. You breathe out heavily. It would be so easy to say it, to Bellamy, hell even to Raven, but you don't want to lose her out of carelessness. Thankfully your phone gives out that familiar ring before you have time to think any further about it and you jerk the phone out the pocket to find a new message.
Raven (8:27pm): Fine give me all the puns if it makes you happy
A warmth spreads through you and your cheeks flash red. It causes you to smile, that kind that is reserved for Raven and Raven alone. You might not be able to say it but nothing's stopping you from saying more than less.
Clarke (8:34pm): You make me happy
You feel Bellamy´s breath on your shoulder when he leans forward to read the text for himself.
“I'm gonna puke”, he groans and you push the cart forward in the line, that smile spreading past the corners of your mouth.
-----
November
She's beautiful. Blurry, but beautiful. You press the heel of your palm into your eye to rub the tiredness out. When you look over at the screen again her eyes are still fixed somewhere above her screen, at the TV, her eyes glimmer in the light projected onto them. You should be watching your own TV and at least try to actively engage in whatever is going on, but her eyes got you mesmerized. To be fair you´d much rather watch her than the third episode of Sense8.
You´ve been doing this for a few weeks now. After some discussion you gave up and let Clarke decide on what series you should watch, she chose Sense8 (very predictable you thought, but still smiled happily) and you´ve watched an episode every Thursday, night for you and afternoon for her. In the first one, you spent most of the time commenting on the episode and the different characters. The second, Octavia barged into Clarke´s apartment halfway through (she tried to get out of there but neither of you was having it, she gave up and joined in on the commentary). This time it's much too late and your whole body is buzzing after a long day, and you can't take your eyes off of her. Or more like her eyes.
It took a solid month before you admitted that they were your favourite part of her body. Their intensity and liveliness have a way of drawing you in, once you're in they hold onto you and you wouldn't want to be captivated by anything else.
A playful smile pulls at the corner of the blonde's mouth and soon enough it´s displayed all over her pink lips.
“You know, you should be watching the show”, she points out without looking down at the screen to meet your gaze.
“Why?”.
“It´s good and that brunette is really hot”.
“I like ‘em blonde”, you inform her with a smirk, and finally those blue eyes meet yours. She doesn't look impressed, but the red on her cheeks tells you that she at least heard you. You move around a little until you're positioned lying straight on your back, only propped up with a pillow against the headboard, with the laptop resting on your stomach. Her eyes are still on yours and a shiver down your spine causes goosebumps to spread across your neck, down to your arms. “Hey”, you whisper and a small smile on her pink lips makes your gaze flicker down for a second.
“Hi”. Her voice is soft and sweet. Warm. Safe. She is safe and comfortable, even an ocean away. You can feel it in your veins, how the buzz fades into humming and then… you yawn. “You're tired”, she establishes and another tender smile meets your eye.
"I'm fine”, you mumble and she laughs quietly at your response.
“Whatever you say”.
“Shouldn't you be watching the show? I thought it was good”.
Your eyes close for a moment, a short moment. That's all you need. Just to close your eyes for one moment and then you're with it again. It takes a lot more force to open them again and when you do a blue pair of wonders are looking back at you, filled with warmth and something else. You can't put your finger on it, perhaps you don't have to, because Clarke fills in the blanks, sort of, when she opens her mouth next.
“You're better”, she says and you believe her.
And you love her.
God, you love her with all your being.
//
Her features are soft. Calm. She's angelic. Beautiful.
And you love her.
Her head has fallen to the side and is now resting on her shoulder at an uncomfortable angle. Her neck will ache in the morning, probably her whole back as well if she gets through the whole night sleeping like that.
“Rae?”, you try and wait for her to react. She doesn´t. “Raven, wake up”, you say a little louder, still no reaction. “Raven!”.
She stirs awake with a mumble, “mhm”, her head moving back to its previous position. She smacks her lips, one hand coming up to scratch at her chin and then her head falls over to the other side.
“You should lay down”, you tell her and she nods. Her face relaxes once again and she falls right back asleep. “Raven!”.
Her brown eyes snap open. You can't help but smile at her confused look. It's incredibly endearing. “Mhm… yeah?”, she mumbles as she straightens up in her awkward position, but just like you predicted she had slumped back again.
“I'm logging off now”, you warn.
“No… don´t…. Please”, comes her answer with a creased forehead. She seems to get the point of your warning and for a moment you can't see her on your screen, you can clearly hear her grunting when she struggles to reposition herself. When she appears back on the screen she's wearing that old tank top she usually sleeps in and is laying down on her side facing the screen. You figure that she must have placed the laptop beside her on the bed or top of the nightstand. A sleepy smile is plastered on her face once she snuggles down, her shoulder slumping down with a sigh. “Better”, she mumbles.
You can feel your own lips quirk up. “Yeah, much better”.
You make quick work of getting ready for bed and retreats to it with the laptop resting on a stack of books on top of the nightstand. It´s probably bordering on creepy, but you can't help yourself (if she was laying here beside you you´d still be watching her), she's too peaceful not to watch.
Slowly but effectively sleep finds you as well.
The light projecting off the screen doesn't bother you, not the way her absence does. At least by keeping Skype on, her face slightly lighten up by her own screen, you can pretend that there isn't much of a distance between you, the distance is merely an illusion.
-----
December
Six months is enough. At least that's what you tell yourself. Mostly because you're struggling with keeping everything bundled up inside and if you don´t get something out you might actually explode. Well, not that dramatic, but you do need to tell her how you feel. Once you were sure, like really really sure, that your feelings for her have only deepened you decided that you didn´t want to tell her anything over Skype. You think you owe both of you as much. Which of course was easier said than done, but when Lincoln told you that he expected you to come home over Christmas this year as well an opportunity opened itself up.
You couldn't get the whole week off, but four days were better than none at all.
Lincoln picked you up at the airport, literally picked you up and spun you around in his arms. You were happy to see him too, enough to cheer just as loud as he did. He didn't question why he was the one picking you up, nor did Octavia once you walked into their apartment. She only embraced you and scolded you for staying away so long. Her way of telling you she loves you.
Clarke knows that you're here. She knows and you are longing to see her. Nothing has really changed over the last few weeks, but something between you has changed. In the way that you talk, the way she says your name, the fact that your heart flutter whenever you've got a new message.
You could have gone to her place straight from the airport, but the fact was that you missed your family (the one bound by blood) and no one could help you better with that than Lincoln and Octavia. You figured that that was the best way, big holidays have a way of getting to you and with the limited time, you wouldn't want to ruin it by being overemotional. Everyone´s getting together tomorrow for a lowkey party for Christmas Eve, Jasper´s idea, and you know there will be questions. Some you can answer right off hand, others are more complicated; you have questions of your own that you want answered. And only one person can answer them for you.
Yet, you can't go there with the heavy feeling of missing your parents.
It´s just not right.
Dinner and wine are a quick, temporary fix that you welcome with open arms. If there's anything you've missed as much as the people back home it´s Lincoln's cooking. His cooking, a few bottles of red wine and Octavia´s nonstop chatting are exactly what you need.
Still, they can't do anything about the need to see blue ocean eyes face to face.
The happy two practically shove you out the door after you've told them that Clarke´s waiting for you after dinner. They don´t give some big speech, although that would be hilarious, Lincoln only makes you take a cab over to the apartment.
The cab ride over to her apartment feels like treading water out on the deep end.
Or standing at the top of a black slope, your heart already in your throat and your legs shaking with excitement.
Standing at her door, one hand hovering over it, ready to knock, feels like trying to breathe when the air has been knocked out of you. Once you've gathered up the strength, or more like courage, to sound your arrival your head is dizzy.
It takes a second, a few actually after she has opened the door before either of you speak.
She's beautiful.
Her gorgeous eyes met yours and the rest of the world fall away. Her one hand linger on the door whilst the other has one of the loops in her jeans in a firm grip. Your eyes wander the length of her body, take in every visible inch of her, of her clothing, of her beauty. Once they return to her mouth, she's biting down on her lip and there's a tug in your chest.
You draw for a new breath and watch her chest mimic yours.
“Hi”, you exhale and a tender smile grows on your lips.
She breathes out heavily and shakes her head like she can´t believe that you're here. (You barely do.) “Hi”.
She doesn't step aside to let you in, instead, she surges forward and throws her arms around your neck, your own find her waist and nothing in this world has ever felt as natural as pulling her close to your chest, to breathe in her scent. In your chest, something explodes and you feel yourself lean onto her more fully, your nose nuzzling into her blonde hair.
You hear her voice low and shaky against your neck, “I´ve missed you, Raven”.
“Me too, love, me too”, you answer and hold to her even harder. Her hands twist in your hair and when she pulls you know that she´s just as afraid as you are. “I'm not going anywhere”.
“Promise”, she whispers and the sensation of her lips against the skin below your ear sends shivers down your spine.
“I promise”.
She sighs happily and loosens her grip on your hair. Still, neither of you let go. You'd gladly stay like this forever, in her embrace for as long as she allows.
“Clarke, you're shaking”. It's true, she does shake and you step back to be able to look at her.
“That's because it's freezing out here”, she laughs with her eyes glowing with joy. The worry you felt grasping at your heart fades at her words. “Come in”.
Once in the apartment, you notice the quiet.
“Where´s Bell?”.
Clarke shuts the door behind you and slides past you as you make a discard of your jacket. “Out. Jasper and Monty took him to some party. He'll not be home until tomorrow”.
You nod at her explanation. “Coincident?”, you ask half-heartedly, rather grateful that he won't be home for the night even though you've missed his goofy wit and puppy eyes.
Clarke only laughs and leads you into the kitchen where she points to one of the chairs, in which you quickly sit down. “How was the flight?”.
“How are you?”, you counter and slides back in your seat.
She leans back against one of the kitchen counters, her lips forming a playful smile. “I asked you first”.
“I know”.
She shakes her head, wets her lips visibly and then gives in with a soft voice (although, she can't hide the bitterness in it), “I spoke with Abby. She's determined to come to visit”.
You sit back up at her name, Clarke´s mother´s name. You still haven´t come around to understanding how their relationship works or if anything has changed since you left the first time. As long as she doesn't tell you herself, you won´t ask. Clarke looks away, fazed by it as well, her index finger poking at a crack in the counter. Her shoulders have slumped down and there's unease to the way she bites on the inside of her cheek. “When?”, you ask carefully.
“Whenever I'm free”, she answers, dragging her nails over the crack and then crossing both of her arms over her chest. “Can we talk about something else?”. You nod and avert your eyes from her because if you keep looking at her when she's upset you won't be able to stop yourself from doing something you´d definitely regret. You have a strange feeling that Abby won´t like you were much. “Or… we could not talk at all”.
That pulls your eyes back to her and she meets them with a smug look on her face.
You quirk your eyebrow at her, tempted to simply agree to her suggestion, but you won't be that easy. “That´s a bold suggestion”, you tell her and she shrugs her shoulders.
“Is that a no?”.
You don´t let go of her gaze, awaiting a sign of her changing her mind. When she doesn´t you get up from the chair. She presses her lips together, tightly, as you step towards her. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, maybe it has since you knocked on the door, or even longer than that, and her breathe feels amazing against your cheeks when you've got her trapped between the counter and your own body. Your eyes flicker down to your hands, one after another, as you place them over hers and lace your fingers together. Once blue meets brown again, her lips have parted and you sense her breathing quickening. When you lean forward, connecting your foreheads, she closes her eyes and exhales slowly. You can't close your eyes, caught up in her beauty. She wets her lips before she opens her eyes to meet you again.
“I´ve really missed you”, she whispers and you believe her, with all of your beings.
And you love her.
She's sweet and precious, worth all of the pain and suffering, worth waiting, fighting, dying for. She's happy and ecstasy.
She is love.
Her breath hitches in her throat when you nudge her nose with your own. Your mouth hovers over hers, drawn in by her hot breath brushing over your lips.
“Shh, we've been talking for six months, just kiss me already”.
It's said with ease and butterflies threatening to erupt from your stomach in absolute euphoria before she even touches you. Her touching you will ruin you, that's for sure, and there will be no sweeter pleasure than that.
Those blue wonders search your brown eyes, she won´t find any doubt, only love and warmth, perhaps she doesn't know how to put words on the first, but the second radiates from you like a bright sun.
And if you are the sun, she's the moon.
That first kiss (yes you still count it as the first one) that you shared over a year ago was messy and desperate. It was everything it shouldn't have been and all it could have been under the given circumstances. It would be a lie to say that you haven´t been dreaming of a second one, before and after the wedding, and now, standing right in front of her, at the potential start of something completely new, your nervous.
And excited.
And god when she leans in time stops.
Her lips are soft, hesitant at first, but surely both of you relax into it. Her lips melt together with yours in that one tentative kiss. When you part you catch the smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, so you surge forward to kiss it, only to feel it grow until it's displayed proudly onto her full lips.
You reluctantly lean back to break the kiss, after the third, fifth, whatever the count is. “That okay?”, you mumble with your lips still on hers.
“No”, she answers with an even bigger smile, a second later she surges forward to connect your lips again.
How it all progresses after that is quite simple; she takes your breath away.
She skilfully presses into you, tilting her head slightly to get a better angle, her tongue brushing against your bottom lip asking for permission. You grant it parting your lips and squeezing her hands. Holding back becomes increasingly difficult when she frees her hands only to fold them around your neck, tugging at your neck and fixating your angle to further deepening the kiss, all whilst her hips buck up against yours.
A flashback runs through your mind, a suppressed memory of that day, and it feels like déjà vu. Yet, not at all. This time it´s better; it´s perfect.
This time you hum in response and let yourself fall even harder for the blonde.
With your hands around her waist, you switch places, turning the two of you around with stumbling steps, letting her take the controls, something that she does without hesitation as she presses you hard against the counter, moaning quietly into you. All you can think is that you want to hear it, loud and clear, catch it on her tongue once her body quivers beneath yours.
She tastes chocolate and orange. Bright sunshine. Fresh air. You capture her bottom lip, suck hard, release it with a pop only to pull her in again in a heated kiss. The moan ripping up from the blonde's throat, earns you ten nails scratching at your scalp, deep and hard.
When she pulls at you to follow, you follow, lips never losing contact, breaths hot and desperate once you come up for air. She leads you out of the kitchen, through the hall, into her bedroom. You both stumble over a stack of books, which forces you to break apart for a moment so you won't fall over completely. When you open your eyes you meet hers blown wide, filled with lust and warmth. She eyes you and as if by a light switch those deep shades in her eyes change. Now she looks at you with mischievousness layered with deep within that earth-shattering lust.
She pushes you back until the backside of your legs hit the bed and then makes you sit down.
"I like that shirt. It looks good on you", she says, voice thick and raspy, nodding to the blue checkered shirt you're wearing. "Take it off".
You go along, unbuttoning the shirt and drop it next to your feet. She looks satisfied and those hungry eyes take in the new patch of bare skin. The aching bundles up in the bottom of your stomach, how something so painful can feel so good is beyond you, she has barely touched you and you can already feel the tingle in between your legs. When she reaches out, her fingers meet the hollow below your throat and traces your collarbone, one and then the other, causing your skin to burn with anticipation.
“What now?”, your voice comes out shaky and those blue eyes find their way back to your brown ones.
"Lay down", she tells you and you lay back, enjoying her dominant side which is one that you've yet to experience. The apartment you shared had thin walls, but you could never distinguish who took the lead, if you're being honest, you felt guilty enough just having to listen to them, contemplating over how dominant or not Clarke was in bed back then was out of the question
She shakes her head slowly. "On your stomach", she corrects as she steps forward, her knees bumping against your own.
You bite down on your bottom lip, stomach fluttering under those blue eyes. "How am I supposed to enjoy the view on my stomach", you question smugly.
Those blue eyes pierce through you as she leans over you, her blonde curls tickling the swell of your breasts. Her lips press against your chin, cheek, temple before she lets them take yours in a long kiss. She licks into your mouth, dragging the air out of you once again, leaving you chasing her lips once leans back, when she crashes back into you a loud cry rips through you from deep within.
She leans back with a satisfied grin.
"Roll over".
She steps away to give you room, leaving you breathless and aching for more.
It takes some pushing and pulling until you´ve found a good position, one that Clarke approves of. You're on your stomach, your head resting on your arms folded underneath your chin when she straddles your ass. A gasp threatens to evaporate off of your lips, but you swallow it back down quickly. Her body sinks over you as she leaves a trail of kisses up over your shoulder blades. Every touch is electric and you breathe heavily under her control. You lean over to the side to get a look at her when she suddenly undoes the clasp of your black lacy bra.
You catch the glimpse of her eyes taking in your bareback, a hunger radiating from their black centres.
"Lay still", she commands with a firm hand to your side, pushing you back down flat on your stomach.
You can only laugh, already on the verge of practically begging if that's what she wants. "Fine", you mumble into the mattress before readjusting under her weight.
With a heavy exhale from your part her fingers travel up over your back, stopping once they reach the nape of your neck, there they draw circular patterns, small at first, larger by each new circle, soon she has your whole back mapped below her fingertips and you can no longer distinguish the shape of their patterns.
You get a chance to breathe when her hands leave your skin.
It´s cold when it first meets your skin, wet and cold. Your reflex is to shift over onto your side to see what it is, but Clarke´s command echoes quietly within you; so you lay still. The cold makes goosebumps appear on your arms, but mostly it´s a tickling sensation. One you've not experienced before, and in the midst of what you've been doing up until now, that sensation makes that bundle in your stomach grow harder.
At the fourth stroke along your shoulders, a groan escapes your lips, and you bite down on the sheets. Clarke has already heard you and stops the motion halfway down towards the small of your back.
"What?", the blonde asks quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck.
"Whatever you're doing-", you start but when she brushes her tongue over the patch of skin she just kissed your voice falls short.
Fingers come around your neck and brushes back your hair, fixing it behind your ear, and then lips sneak over the shell of your ear. Her voice is low and deep, "Is this turning you on?".
"God", you groan and clench to the sheets, determined to not move even though every fibre in your body needs you to.
Clarke´s lips don't torture you, she leans back, pressing down over your ass once again as she returns to painting over your back. "Lay still", she husks and you want to tell her ‘yes’, or ‘please don´t stop’, but nothing comes out but silence.
(She knows.)
Once you've become accustomed to the sensation of the brush travelling over your skin you start to relax again, that bundle of aching still very present but no longer painful at the base of your stomach. It's when you relax that time takes out its effect, or rather the lack of it.
You fall asleep with Clarke still working on your back, taking her time with each part of her canvas, and a smile spreads over your lips. She's safe and warm. The last thought on your mind before the world turns quiet and dark is simple; this is what coming home feels like.
//
You can´t explain what came over you. Perhaps it was the realization that it was actually happening, she was finally back home and in your arms that lit a spark in your mind. You could feel the tingle in your fingers and it seemed to feed on her touch, on how she left you fighting for air even though the only thing keeping you alive was her.
Finishing up the painting on her back sets of a rush of emotions in your body. With a heavy exhale you drag the tips over the one dried up paint, your fingertips barely brushing over her skin.
It's a sunrise.
The beginning of something new.
Moving off of her body feels like letting the cold seeped through the cracks in your heart, the same cracks that only her warmth can heal. And she has. You never needed time to heal, all you needed was her.
And here she is.
The colours look brighter when you step back to let the light fall over her back. You take in the dull image, of the sun and the sea, of her sleeping. She's beautiful and for the first time in a long time you're starting to believe again; belief in love. You made a promise to each other to not let moments go to waste, no matter how important or insignificant they seem, and so you snap a photo of the human canvas, of her beauty melting into the colours of your painting.
You won't ever do her justice.
You've tried to paint her eyes, her lips, her mind, but looking at those attempts could never do what she does to you. They could never fill you up with the weight of the world, take a hold of your heart and strip you of every doubt you've ever felt regarding your love for her. Only she can do that.
You ease back over her body after putting your phone away, careful not to smear the paint or put all of your weight on her back. Your fingers caress her cheek, pushing back a lock of her hair and fix it behind her ear.
"Rae. Wake up, babe", you ease her out of sleep with a soft kiss to a patch of untouched skin over her shoulder. She grumbles in response and you linger close, your lips brushing over that same spot on her shoulder whilst your fingers move to her scalp. A sleepy smile finds its way to her lips when you start to massage her scalp and soon thereafter her eyes peek out from under heavy eyelids. "Hey".
"I love your voice", she answers with a husky voice, drawing laughter from you. Luckily she can't see the blush on your cheeks. "Have I told you that", she continues, and you can't believe it's possible for you to fall even more in love with her smile.
(It's not possible, yet you do.)
"No", you whisper, fingers still working at her scalp. "I'm done if you want to see it, or grab a shower".
She hums when you press down on a particularly sore spot. If you could bottle up any moment in time, it would be this; the sounds of pleasurable pain rolling off her lips, her soft features and the way she knocks her head back when you try to pull back your hand.
"I think... You should lay down", she murmurs and you don´t hesitate for a second.
You´ve barely laid down, one arm stretched out towards her side of the bed before she crawls closer to your body. She props her head up on her arm, her breath hot and comforting when it hits your bare skin. Those deep, beautiful brown eyes open slowly and take in your gaze.
"Hi".
"Hi". Another smile surfaces to play on her lips and you fight the urge to catch it with your mouth, desperate to taste the sweetness of her happiness. Her eyes close again as she breathes out heavily. "I'm tired".
"I can see that". The tug at your chest increases in force. It's the jetlag, you're sure, that keeps jerking her asleep. She's probably minutes away from falling and even though you don't get that much time with her, watching her sleep is one of the best things to lose time over. Borderline creepy, yes, but you tell yourself that this is what it's supposed to feel like. What you´re supposed to feel when you´re in love. You never used to watch Finn, yet again, you already knew that whatever you felt for him, it never came close to what she makes you feel.
It´s a desperate attempt to settle the carving in your gut, the need to touch her, to have her closer, to melt into her every limb and breath when you reach out to caress her cheek. She leans into the touch, humming softly as you brush your thumb over her cheekbone.
"I love you", the words taste new but oh so familiar on the tip of your tongue, like something that has always been true but forgotten in the midst of the world.
You'll never forget again.
Never again.
"I know", comes her reply, followed by a deep sigh. Your chest flares up with warmth at her words, the memory of Bellamy's question fresh in your mind. She cuddles closer into you with a lazy smile filling up those beautiful lips, those piercing eyes of her open slowly and latch onto your gaze with determination. "I love you too".