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Clarke and Lexa rarely spoke.
They’d been college roommates for coming up on seven months and they’d never said anything more than polite greetings. They were both stacked with classes and when Clarke woke up on the weekends Lexa was usually nowhere to be seen. It made sense that they didn’t talk. They barely saw each other.
Clarke’s feelings for Lexa were… conflicted. She admired the girl’s work ethic. She was devoted to her major, criminal justice, a thing she only knew from seeing the titles of her textbooks. She admired the girl’s seriousness, though sometimes wished it wasn’t so much. She admired the girl’s beauty. That was indisputable. But she didn’t know enough about her to know exactly how to judge her.
Then it changed.
Clarke woke to the door swinging open, footsteps walking inside. She burrowed back into her pillows. Lexa came home late often. This wasn’t anything new.
Then she heard her sob.
The sound wrenched at Clarke’s heart. She rolled over and sat up. Lexa held onto the edge of the minifridge, hunched over it, panting loudly. Tears dripped down her cheeks and the occasional whimper of pain could be heard. She was messy in a way Clarke had never seen. Disorganized. Shaken.
Clarke slipped out of bed and took a glance at the clock. 01:13. Lexa was never this late.
She walked slowly up to the older woman. “Lexa? Are you alright?”
Lexa’s head jerked up, swollen red eyes meeting her own. Lexa gasped, blinking harshly through the tears, letting go of the minifridge to stand up. Bad idea. Her legs were unsteady, wavering beneath her weight.
Clarke caught her as Lexa collapsed forward. She lifted her into her arms, supporting almost all of her weight. “Hey, hey, Lexa, you’re okay, you’re okay. It’s alright.” Lexa trembled in her arms, stiff under her touch. Clarke sighed, resting a hand on Lexa’s curls and setting her head down on her shoulder. “Relax. You’re alright.”
Lexa slowly softened, her body loosening and all of her weight leaning on Clarke. Clarke kept her steady, her hand a constant pressure on her back anchoring her to the world. She tried to rein in her sobs. She had already embarrassed herself as it was, no need to make it any worse.
She couldn’t help it, though. Clarke was pressed up against her front and her hands were on her back and in her hair and she felt so warm and radiant and she couldn’t help herself. Ever since her parent’s death, she’d had only Anya, who went to college a state over. She stayed with Lexa for the next three months until she was eighteen and then had to return to college, but they kept in touch. Visited occasionally, called each other a lot, something typical friends would do.
And then she got the phone call that Anya had been hospitalized.
She’d rushed over, making the four-hour drive in barely three. According to the doctors, Anya had been caught in the crossfire of a gunman and had been shot in the stomach and shoulder. She hadn’t been allowed to see her until after she died.
So Lexa drove home, keeping her mind elsewhere while she sat in front of the wheel, but back here, with no such distractions, she broke down. And now Clarke had to deal with her weakness.
The thing was, she hadn’t had a single comforting touch since her parents died three years ago. Sure, Anya was there, but Anya wasn’t a touchy person. There had been the thing with Costia two years back, but their relationship wasn’t cuddly or anything. The only time they really touched was during sex.
It made Clarke’s comforting hold all the more addicting.
She felt her hand rubbing circles on her spine, her hair tangled in her fingers as she lightly scratched at her scalp, and Lexa melted . Her arms circled tightly around Clarke’s waist and she buried her face into her neck. Tears dripped down her cheeks and trailed down Clarke’s neck but she didn’t care. She held a broken, shaking mess of a girl in her arms and gods be damned would she just leave her to deal with it alone.
Clarke stepped back, tugging Lexa along with her. Lexa allowed herself to be pulled along, unaware of where they were going, only aware of the tightness in her throat and the hot press of Clarke’s skin against her face. Clarke sat down on the bed and pulled Lexa down beside her. Stroking a hand down her cheek, Clarke pulled away gently, trying to lay her down onto the pillows.
To her embarrassment, Lexa whined loudly, arms tightening around Clarke’s waist as she pushed her face into her chest. Clarke shushed her, tucking an arm back around her back and pulling her closer. She rested her chin on Lexa’s head and stood there while the other girl quivered uncontrollably.
Clarke was gentle. It took some time for Lexa to calm down but as soon as she did, Clarke began to coax her back onto the bed. Lexa felt heavy, her vision blurry, and despite the small whimper at Clarke’s warmth leaving, she lay down on the bed. She felt the heavy layer of a blanket settle over her and curled up beneath it, still shivering. Clarke stayed at her bedside, stroking her chocolate hair until she finally quieted and fell into a fitful slumber.
She returns to her own bed, the exhaustion from staying up until eleven the past three nights studying rushing back to her. She had no time to deliberate what had just happened before she only saw black.
-
Clarke groaned as she came back to the real world, burying her face deep into her pillows. The alarm was blaring next to her but she ignored it in favor of curling back up on her side and pulling the blanket up to her chin.
The alarm stopped. She rolled over sluggishly, blinking sleep out of her eyes and saw Lexa looking down at her from where she stood next to her nightstand. She looked exhausted, eyes red and large bags under her eyes.
It took Clarke a moment to remember last night, but she did. She sat up, rubbing her sleep-saturated eyes. “Morning, Lexa.”
“Good morning, Clarke.” Even her voice was off. It was raspy and stiff.
Clarke stood, reaching blindly for a pair of jeans she knew she had left out. “Are you alright?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Clarke gave her a ‘really?’ look, slipping her shirt over her head. Lexa averted her gaze. She exhaled long and slow as if dreading having to answer. “No. I’m not.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.” Lexa walked over to her desk, pulling a banana from where she kept them. They were her usual breakfast, and she knew Clarke occasionally stole one as well but usually made up for it by buying some herself. She tried her hardest to ignore Clarke getting ready behind her.
Clarke didn’t just walk out like she usually did. “I’m going to get some coffee with my friends,” she said, walking up behind Lexa and gently resting a hand on her shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”
Lexa turned to look at her, a bit stunned at the bright expanse of blue that resided in her eyes. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” She tried to block out the feeling of Clarke’s hand on her shoulder.
Clarke didn’t give her the sympathetic look she was expecting, instead just nodding and squeezing her shoulder. “Okay. See you later, then.”
Lexa couldn’t help the disappointment that came when Clarke left.
-
They didn’t talk for three days after that.
Lexa saw the looks that Clarke gave her - the worried, I-want-to-talk-but-I’m-not-going-to looks she’d seen other people give but never received. In all truth, Lexa kind of wanted her to talk. She didn’t want to face her feelings, which she knew would happen one way or another if she actually engaged in conversation, but Clarke was one of the only semblances of home she had left. Her entire family was dead, she’d never bothered making friends in college, and she was alone.
Lexa has to pause for a moment when she steps into their shared room and sees Clarke passed out at her desk. It wasn’t an uncommon sight, Lexa knew Clarke always studied until her brains fell out, but her feelings toward her had changed. It wasn’t purely mutual respect, there was something else. The realization that Clarke was the closest thing she had to a family despite them rarely speaking made things different. Made her mean something more.
Lexa rested a hand tentatively on her shoulder, hesitating a moment before shaking it lightly. Clarke grumbled something and sighed, eyes fluttering. Lexa felt something akin to affection rise deep within her. She leaned down. “Clarke. Wake up.”
Clarke blinked blearily, her eyes adjusting to the dark. “Lex? Is that you?” Her voice was heavy with sleep, the rasp making her shudder. She felt touched at the name, even though it was only a slip-up.
“Yes, Clarke. You fell asleep at your desk.”
“Oh.” Clarke sat up, rolling her neck to try and get rid of the ache and arching her back. She yawned widely. “Thanks, Lex.”
There it was again. She’d never been called that by anyone, and really, it shouldn’t have been a big deal. The name Lexa was technically a nickname anyway, not that she ever used her given one. Alexandria. Much too formal for her taste, though as a lawyer it might sound better than Lexa. The only nicknames she’d ever gotten were from Anya, who’d called her Commander and sometimes Alex just because she knew it pissed Lexa off.
The thought of Anya brought her down again. She’d tried to avoid thinking about her, afraid she’d break down again, and if the blurriness of her eyes was anything to go by, she probably would. The thing was, though, that this never happened outside of this room. With other people, she refused to show it. To show any semblance of weakness. With Clarke, the barriers began to crack. Maybe it was because she’d accepted Lexa’s weakness before. Maybe it was because she didn’t feel nearly as comfortable with anyone else. Maybe it was just because she needed someone.
“Lexa?” She blinked, clearing her vision to look Clarke in the eyes. Her eyelids drooped but beneath there was concern. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she said, pushing down her emotions. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Clarke didn’t argue as Lexa ushered her to her bed, draping herself on the mattress without bothering to change. Lexa had to hold back a laugh. She grabbed the covers from the end of the bed and lay them delicately over the younger girl. “Goodnight, Clarke.”
“G’night, Lex.” Lexa smiled as Clarke curled in on herself, burying her face into the pillow and pulling the covers up to her chin. She changed quickly, laying down in her own bed and watching.
What was it about that girl that made Lexa so careless? Whenever she was alone here with Clarke, the facade she always had up began to fall away and it terrified her. No one, save- her , had ever seen Lexa without a mask of apathy. And without even trying Clarke was tearing it down piece by piece.
Lexa stared, watching the blankets rise and fall with each breath, a strand of curled golden hair blow lightly from the steady beat of exhales. Her face was smoothed over in a way that Lexa envied. Despite the struggle of being a med student, Clarke never found herself unable to do what she wanted. Sure, she stayed up until four in the morning studying some nights, but it never brought her down. She still found time to smile, to laugh, and Lexa wished, gods, she craved to be happy with such ease.
Lexa rolled to face the wall, squeezing her eyes shut and crying silent tears.
-
She hadn’t had a nightmare that bad in years.
Whenever she dreamed, it was always a nightmare, but not like this. She hadn’t had one like this since she was orphaned eight years ago.
She woke up with a shriek, visions of Anya flashing behind her eyelids, old pictures of her parents disapproving faces leering down at her from a place she couldn’t see.
She heard footsteps and curled inwards on herself, hiding from the ghosts of the dead that would forever haunt her to no end. A sob ripped at her throat, one so hard to contain that it felt like her insides were burning. She could barely breathe, she couldn’t breathe, gods, why was it so hard to fucking live -
She felt something wet splash down onto her cheek. Her tears? No, she was too afraid, too caught up in her terror to even think of crying. It brought her back from her oblivion, making her aware of the warm body curled over her, crying for her. She couldn’t think clearly, she was too unstable to be dealing with this right now, all she could think of was Clarke and how good it felt to have someone to touch, to feel, to love .
Lexa reached out blindly, her fingers grazing soft, fragile skin, and she swore that was going insane because no way could something so meager feel so good . She groped for something to hold onto, grasping Clarke’s shoulder and pulling herself closer, dropping her face into Clarke’s lap and sobbing.
She felt Clarke all around her, surrounding her, consuming her in a way that she never wanted to be let out of. Warm hands fell into her hair, fingers drifting softly over Lexa’s face and neck, wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks. She could feel Clarke moving and whined sharply, wrapping her arms around her waist and shoving her nose into the dip of her hip. Clarke shushed her, laying a heavy, comforting arm over her shoulders and pulling her up as Clarke reclined against the headboard. Lexa’s hand made its way under the back of Clarke’s shirt, splaying out over her warmth and soaking her in.
Clarke didn’t know what was going on but said nothing, holding the weeping mess of a girl close to her body. Lexa was always strong, so strong, but the trembling body in her lap showed her that Lexa was just as human as anyone. She’d tried so hard to keep everyone blocked away, to stay away from the real world, but even the strongest have their breaking points.
She kept one arm tucked protectively over her back and the other scratching lightly at her scalp, muttering hushed reassurances into Lexa’s ear. She didn’t know how long it took, she didn’t dare tear her eyes away from Lexa curled up in her lap, but she eventually began to calm, her breathing softening, slowing, her body relaxing deeper into Clarke’s hold. A huge sigh washed over the skin where her shirt rode up at her stomach. She leaned down, talking lower than a whisper.
“I’ve got you.”