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Clarke knows that something’s wrong, what she doesn’t know is why Lexa wouldn’t just talk to her about it, whatever it is. It’s been almost a week of this strange dance- Clarke and Lexa tiptoeing around each other, all fleeting touches and awkward silences. And it’s starting to really get to Clarke.
They’ve been best friends for two years, for gods’ sake- Clarke didn’t think there was anything they couldn’t tell the other. Apparently, she was wrong. Because Lexa isn’t talking to her. She’s actually avoiding Clarke as much as she can, hiding in her room whenever they’re both in the same dorm, finding excuses to leave whenever they’re alone, inviting people over constantly so it’s not just the two of them.
Clarke has no clue what she could possibly have done, and says this much to Octavia a week into Lexa’s strange ice-out.
“I mean I don’t think I did anything,” Clarke sighs, twirling her spoon through her chai. They’re at a cute little cafe on campus, getting coffee before class because 8:00 on a Tuesday is much too early in their opinions. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Hey I have an idea,” Octavia says, perking up. Clarke raises an eyebrow at her- this should be good. “Maybe, oh I don’t know, talk to her .” Clarke shakes her head stoutly.
“No, if she has something to say she can talk to me . I’m not playing whatever game this is,” Clarke says determinedly. Octavia scoffs, rolling her eyes.
“Fine but then stop whining to me about it,” she mutters under her breath, earning a sharp kick to the ankle. “Ow!” Clarke just smiles sweetly.
“Whatever, I can’t think about this right now. We gotta get to class,” Clarke points out. Octavia groans dramatically as she allows Clarke to drag her up out of her seat. Clarke rolls her eyes at her friend's antics, trying to push all thoughts of Lexa out of her mind as Octvaia starts rambling about some hot guy in her Art History class.
-
Clarke’s distracted the entire day, Lexa occupying every thought. She pays little to no attention in her classes, concern and annoyance growing steadily throughout the day, and by the time she gets home she’s well and truly pissed off and ready to give Lexa a piece of her mind, rushing from her last class and skipping her usual coffee.
The sight of Lexa, duffel bag in hand and standing just inside the doorway send Clarke reeling, confusion briefly replacing her anger. She meets Lexa’s steady gaze, eyes wide.
“Oh.” Lexa looks surprised that she’s home. “You’re home early…”
“What- what are you- where are you going?” Clarke demands.
“I’m gonna go stay with Luna for a little while, Clarke,” Lexa says, her voice infuriatingly calm.
“And were you planning on telling me?” Clarke asks, anger seeping back into her words.
“Not… exactly,” Lexa admits, having the good grace to look down in embarrassment. Clarke fumes.
“What the hell, Lex!” she cries, voice raising. “What the fuck is going on? You’ve been icing my out all week, and you’ve been acting all weird, something’s clearly wrong and now you’re just up and leaving ?” Clarke is shouting at the end, hurt tears pricking her eyes.
“It’s none of your business, so just leave it alone!”
“It is my business you’re my best friend, so just tell me what the fuck I did!”
“Why do you care, Clarke?” Lexa demands, yelling too. They’re face to face now, less than a foot of space in between them.
“Because I care about you !” Clarke eclaims, exasperation and desperation making her voice crack. Lexa is silent for a moment, her eyes searching Clarke’s. Then her face softens, saddens.
“Well I’m in love with you,” she whispers, tears pooling in her eyes. “And I can’t take it anymore.” And with that, Lexa brushes past a shell-shocked Clarke and out the door. It takes Clarke a solid minute to react, her brain short-circuiting at the words. Lexa is in love with her? Lexa is in love with her ? Lexa is in love with her. Oh god- Lexa is in love with her . And Clarke just let her leave. With that thought, Clarke spins, tearing after Lexa.
She catches her just as Lexa is leaving the building, the other girl turning in surprise at Clarke’s hand on her wrist. Before she can say a word, Clarke pulls her to her, crashing their lips together in a desperate kiss. Lexa drops the back, hands jumping to Clarke’s waist as Clarke holds her face. They break apart after a second, foreheads resting together, breaths heavy and in time with the other as they stare at one another.
“I love you too,” Clarke whispers. “I’m in love with you.”
“You do?” Clarke has never heard Lexa’s voice so small, so unsure.
“God, yes. Of course I do. I always have,” she admits. Lexa smiles then, tilting her head for another long kiss. They simply had to fall apart in order to fall back together again.