Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I have loved you since we were 18
Long before we both thought the same thing
To be loved and to be in love
All I could do is say that these arms were made for holding you
I wanna love like you made me feel when we were 18

-One Direction

//

Clarke Griffin is sitting in Lexa Woods’ wedding with a glass of wine in her hand and tears in her eyes and really, everything should be perfect, everything should be great.  Because her best friend is happy and dancing with her wife and leaning in to kiss her. Because the food taste wonderful and the music is quite lovely. Because all of her friends are laughing and taking pictures and generally having a good time.

Yeah, everything should be perfect.

But in reality, Clarke’s holding back a sob in her throat and oh God, she’s fucked everything up again. She’s sitting alone in a table while everybody is dancing and her best friend—the love of her life, her soulmate—now officially belongs to someone who isn’t her.

Clarke has officially fucked up again.

She should probably start from the beginning.

//

22 YEARS PREVIOUSLY

It all starts when Clarke meets Lexa, all those blissful years ago. On the sixth of June, with the sun shining high up in the sky and the sounds of birds chirping through the air. They’re probably only four years old, Lexa being a few months older than Clarke, when they stumble across each other in the Griffin’s living room. Jake and Abby had invited their new neighbor from across the street and in return, Gustus Woods dragged a reluctant Lexa to formally meet the neighborhood.

(To this day, Lexa is still thankful to her father for making her meet Clarke but she’s never voiced the sentiment out loud, even to her blonde best friend.)

Gustus leaves Lexa in the living room to watch TV while Clarke busies herself finishing the painting her chubby hands can barely draw. She’s sitting in the kitchen, listening to her father talking to Gustus about some new sports event that she and her mother can barely stand and when she finally finishes (she hands it to Abby for approval and Abby smiles before taping it to the fridge) Clarke drops down to the floor and hurries to the living room, excited and a bit nervous to meet Lexa Woods.

Lexa Woods is firmly seated in the middle of the couch when Clarke pops out from the kitchen. Clarke’s blonde hair is tied in a low bun and there’s paint on her cheeks and smudges of crayon underneath her fingernails. She cheekily grins at Lexa, who raises an eyebrow at her disheveled look.

(Lexa will soon get used to seeing Clarke like this, because the blonde hardly ever cleans up after herself.)

“Hi,” Clarke says, sticking her hand out for Lexa to take.

Lexa doesn’t move. Instead, she wrinkles her nose and says, ever so haughtily, “You’re dirty.”

“But artists are always dirty,” Clarke whines, pouting as she pulls her hand back.

“No, they aren’t,” Lexa insists, “They’ve got those aprons to keep the paint off their face.”

Clarke frowns, probably not realizing that she does have paint on her face. She raises her hands and tries to wipe it off, but without a mirror to help, she only manages to smudge it even further across her cheeks. Lexa, who has been watching with half exasperation and half amusement, rolls her green eyes and gets off the couch. She grabs a hanky from the pocket of her jumper and stands over Clarke, who is a few inches shorter.

“Stop,” she says, “you’re going to get it in your mouth and you’ll die of paint poisoning.”

Clarke’s jaw drops and she whispers, “Does that really happen?”

“I read about it.”

Tears form in Clarke’s eyes. Oh no. She’s probably going to give up painting for the rest of her life and live as a hobo and die in the streets with no one to remember her name and it’s all so sad, because her imagination’s a bit wild, when all of a sudden, Lexa laughs. It’s a delightful laugh, which quietly turns into a giggle when Clarke glares at her.

“You’re making fun of me,” Clarke accuses.

Lexa grabs her face and wipes off the paint, a small hint of a smile gracing her lips. “It’s true,” she insists, “But don’t worry, I’m not going to let you die just because you’re too stupid enough to clean up after yourself.”

Clarke’s glare turns a little harsher and Lexa’s smile widens before she’s giggling all over again.

Yeah, it all starts there. Because Clarke will forever remember this first meeting, often thinks about it when she’s trying hard to sleep on restless nights, often lets her mind return to this very moment; where Lexa is smiling and laughing at her, braided brown hair shining in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, green eyes bright and full of life, the gleam of her teeth mocking four-year-old Clarke’s idiocy as her hands wipe off the paint from her cheeks.

It all starts there because in this one encounter, Clarke Griffin falls in love with Lexa Woods. But she’s too young to tell the difference at this age so she spends the following years thinking that she loves Lexa Woods as a friend, when she really doesn’t. 

//

It takes Lexa a year later to catch up.

They’ve become the best of friends in that duration of time. Mostly it’s because they live so close to each other but also partly because Lexa’s the type of person who will never get tired of Clarke’s chatter and Clarke’s the type of person who knows when to shut up whenever Lexa gets too quiet. Really, they’re honestly so perfect for each other and Clarke knows it, but she doesn’t say it out loud (she never really says it out loud, until it’s honestly, perfectly too late).

It takes Lexa twelve months and two weeks to realize that she, too, has the misfortune of falling in love with her best friend.

Clarke’s birthday is coming up and Lexa has spent the said two weeks trying to find the perfect gift. She knows how much Clarke loves to draw but the rest of the class knows that too. And she wants to be original, doesn’t want to be the fifth person to give Clarke crayons or drawing paper. She needs her gift to be something special because Clarke is special and yeah, she’s been beating herself up for the past fortnight.

Her father seems to find it hilarious and last week, he stumbled across his daughter tearing a paper in half because she couldn’t, for the love of everything holy and merciful, draw an orange for her best friend.

It’s quite pitiful, really, how Lexa cannot seem to find the perfect gift.

“What if she hates me?” Lexa moans two nights before Clarke’s fifth birthday.

Her father laughs at the head of the dinner table. “She’s not going to hate you, Alexandria,” he tells her patiently.

“I don’t want to give her stupid art supplies,” she mutters loudly, “She’ll probably accidentally eat the paint before she gets to the cake. She has a bad habit of doing that.”

Chuckling, her father passes her the salad. Lexa mournfully chews into it.

“Why not her give her a teddy bear?”

At this, Lexa looks up, her broccoli falling halfway from her lips before she catches it with her hand. Swallowing the rest of her meal, she pushes her unruly hair from her eyes and turns her eager gaze towards her father, who smiles knowingly at her.

“A teddy bear?” she repeats.

“Yeah, remember the one time she called you in the middle of the night because she thought something was moving in her closet?” Her father says, “The two of you wouldn’t sleep unless you had a sleepover. I thought Abby would pop a vein when she heard. Jake just laughed.”

Lexa does remember. It was probably one of the most terrifying nights in her life; Clarke crying in the phone and sputtering out nonsense and begging for her to come over so that they could face the monster together. Lexa had told her that she was already on her way but she was also crying, because Clarke was crying and whenever Clarke cried, Lexa followed suit. Their parents didn’t see any other choice but to let them have what they want and that night, Clarke fell asleep while holding onto her best friend for dear life. 

“A teddy bear,” Lexa repeats again. It doesn’t seem to be a bad idea.

“Yeah, tell her that it’ll protect her from evil,” her father heartily says. He pauses, frowning. “Wait, didn’t you get one from your grandmother?”

Lexa beams at this. For her birthday, her grandmother sent a package with a teddy bear inside. It had been bright pink with a white shirt and large black eyes and a grinning face. Lexa put it away, however, because she felt as if she was too old for stuffed animals.

“You’re right!” she exclaims, grinning so widely that her cheeks hurt, “I’ll give her my teddy bear!”

 Her father smiles again. “Good girl.”

…

It’s Clarke’s birthday and she invites the whole class for a clown party. It takes place in the backyard and there are tables full of food, drinks, gifts and etc. Everybody shows up and most of the kids are already crowded around the funny looking clown who is holding a bunch of brightly colored balloons in his hand. Clarke is in the middle of it all, wearing a crown that deems her to be a princess.

She grins when Lexa finally shows up as well, holding her gift tightly in both hands. Her dad dropped her off with a quick, “Make it count” before winking exaggeratedly. Lexa is nervous and she has every right to be. What if Clarke doesn’t like her gift? What if Clarke hates her for the rest of her life? What if—Clarke suddenly flings herself into Lexa’s arms and all of her worries almost disappear.

“Glad you could make it,” Clarke says, pulling back and laughing. Her crown nearly slips off her head.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Lexa responds.

Clarke gives her a strange look—well, it’s not really strange but she’s wearing an expression that’s partly hopeful and partly sad. Which is weird but whatever. They have cake and Lexa is really, really hungry.

“Come on,” Clarke says, tugging at her hand, “The party’s already starting.”

…

At the end of the day, the party turns out to be a success. Only three kids have cried at the sight of the clown, including the fearless Octavia Blake, who nearly peed her pants when the clown offered her a purple balloon. Her older brother, Bellamy (who had taken upon himself to attend the party in case Octavia got in trouble) nearly punches the poor man wearing the suit and Abby has to take him away for some very fine words.

Anyway, it’s gift-opening time and Lexa’s stomach is full of painful butterflies. Just as she has predicted, Clarke has mostly gotten art supplies and crayons and paper, which she accepts with a huge grin and a loud ‘thank you!’ to the said person. A dark-skinned boy named Wells Jaha gives Clarke a necklace that reads: PRINCESS in small print. He turns a bit red when Clarke smiles at him and Lexa feels a lurch in her heart.

When Jake hands Clarke the medium-sized box that Lexa has decorated with flowers and a very crude drawing of Clarke eating paint off her fingers, Lexa almost wants to run away, in fear of what Clarke will say. The blonde takes it curiously, shooting her best friend a glare when she notices the drawing. Lexa just shrugs, shoving her hands into the back of her pockets as she hears paper tearing.

There’s a hushed silence and Clarke squeals. When Lexa looks up, the blonde is already on her way towards her, smiling a radiant smile that knocks all the breath from Lexa’s lungs, right before she entangles the brunette in a bear-crushing hug.

Lexa meets Wells’s eyes from across the yard and smirks when he glares at her.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Clarke repeats over and over again, tightening the embrace.

Lexa hugs her back just as tightly. “Glad you like it,” she murmurs against the blonde’s shoulder.

“It’s perfect!” The birthday girl pulls away, cheeks red and grin so wide that it must hurt her cheeks. Lexa looks down at the teddy bear, smiling fondly when she reads the words: Please don’t eat paint and die and leave me alone in this world written across the white shirt. It’s a bit dramatic for five-year-olds but it seems only fitting.

Lexa only looks back at Clarke when the blonde says, “Really, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

“It’s just a teddy bear,” Lexa says, shrugging. But only, it’s not. She’s spent two weeks worrying over this stupid gift and losing sleep over it and dealing with the fear that Clarke might not like it. It’s not just a teddy bear because Lexa believes it to be the symbol of their friendship, of the paint in Clarke’s cheeks when they had met, of the phone call in the middle of the night when Clarke had woken up terrified, of the fact that they’re best friends (soulmates even, but Lexa doesn’t say that out loud) and they’re probably going to stay that way for the rest of their lives.

Best friends, Lexa thinks and smiles because to live a life completely entangled with Clarke Griffin’s doesn’t seem so bad at all.

Clarke meets her gaze and lightly shakes her head. “It’s not just a teddy bear,” she says, sharing Lexa’s sentiment.

And this is where Lexa catches up, or when she realizes; because looking at Clarke Griffin in that very moment, where the blonde has a crown donned on top of her head and stars shining in her very blue eyes and a smile that could possibly drip constellations, Lexa knows of one thing and one thing only:

She is completely in love with her best friend and with this fact safely nestled in the cradle of her chest; she ignores it for years to come. Because loving Clarke Griffin and being in love with her is the same thing.

(Only, it isn’t.)

//

Clarke hugs the teddy bear (whom she has so gallantly decided to call Romeo because she’s five and obsessed with the movie) every night before she goes to sleep for the next few years. She’s not even embarrassed with the fact that she brings Romeo along for road trips and visits to her relatives in California. Her dad finds it hilarious, especially when he first reads the words written in Lexa’s sloppy handwriting on the shirt. He always comments on it whenever Lexa comes over for dinner or sleepovers and Lexa always blushes and grins, which Clarke finds ultimately endearing. 

So, when Clarke is seven and she loses sight of Romeo, her whole world nearly comes crashing down.

She’s walking from the bathroom and untying the braid from her hair when she notices that Romeo isn’t sitting in his usual place on top of her pillows. Frowning, she thinks that he might’ve simply fallen off the bed or behind the blankets but when she searches every inch of her room only to come up empty-handed, she realizes that the situation seems more daunting than it already is.

“No, no, no,” she says to the empty room, running her fingers through her unruly hair. She wishes she was old enough to say bad words because there a few colorful sentences that comes to mind.

Clarke blinks the impending tears from her eyes and grabs the telephone on the bedside table. She punches in the familiar numbers and glances over to the clock, discovering that it’s already half past ten. Lexa might probably already be asleep and Clarke prays to God that she’s not.

The phone rings six times before Lexa, sleepy-voiced and obviously trying hard not to yawn, says, “Hello?”

“I lost Romeo,” Clarke says immediately, mentally slapping herself at how the words sound, “No, wait—I didn’t lose him. He was sitting on my bed this morning and when I’m about to go to sleep, he’s gone!”

“Did you check under the bed?”

“I checked the entire room!”

There’s a pause and then Lexa says, almost very hesitantly, “Maybe your mom took him for laundry?”

Clarke groans. “My mom’s at work right now and Dad’s asleep and the laundry room is way too dark and I’m scared and I’ve been sleeping with Romeo for two years straight and I’m not about to sleep alone in this dark, empty room with potential monsters in the closet.” She exhales a deep breath, almost laughing at how ridiculous she sounds.

There’s silence on the other end and Lexa sighs. “Say it,” she says, sounding exasperated.

Clarke smiles to herself. Lexa knows her too well and she thanks God and the heavens above for giving her a best friend in the form of Lexa Woods, when she could’ve easily gotten nothing. She sits down on the bed, runs her fingers through her hair and very quietly, says, “Come inside?”

Lexa grumbles “I’m already on my way” before she hangs up.

Clarke grins at the phone. Yeah. Best friends are great.

…

Lexa collapses on Clarke’s bed the minute the door opens. The lights are still painfully turned on and she blinks at the bright lights before twisting around to look at her best friend, who is still standing by the open door.

“You should go to sleep,” Lexa mutters, letting her head fall back on the pillow.

Clarke hums under her breath before shutting the door and switching off the lights. She crawls into the bed next to Lexa, who makes space for her, and then throws the blankets over their bodies. It’s always cold in November and even with the heater present, Lexa can still feel shivers up her spine.

“Did you find him?” Lexa asks.

“Not yet. Why?”

“Because if you had found him, then I wouldn’t have to wake up at ten and drag my butt across the street to get to you,” Lexa mutters, nudging closer to Clarke, who giggles.

“Even if Romeo was still here, I would’ve asked for another sleepover. We haven’t had any in weeks.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Lexa sighs. They both know it, so she snuggles closer to Clarke, throwing her arm across the blonde’s waist and pulling her close. She doesn’t see the way Clarke’s eyelids flutter shut or the way Clarke’s breath stutters because she’s too busy inhaling the minty scent of her best friend’s toothpaste and listening to her steady heartbeat.

“No, I don’t,” Lexa agrees.

Clarke sighs happily. “That’s good,” she says and Lexa’s already drifting off to sleep but not before she catches, “Besides, you’re a better hugger than Romeo ever was.”

(When they both wake up for breakfast in the morning, they are greeted with Jake Griffin waggling Romeo around in one hand while making eggs in the pan, saying that Clarke had left the poor thing between the cushions in the sofa.)

(Lexa shoots her a glare and Clarke just sheepishly smiles.)

…

Middle school isn’t hard. Except, there’s this annoying boy in her English class who keeps checking out her drawings and pulling on her hair and generally being a pain in the butt. His name is Finn Collins and his hair is smooth and floppy and his eyes are wide and soft and Clarke definitely doesn’t have a crush on him.

(Except, she really does.)

She’s ten years old and crushing on a stupid boy who doesn’t even take his classes seriously, who wants to have a skateboard for his next birthday and who has a girl best friend named Raven Reyes, who is honestly good friends with Clarke unless she brings up Finn. Then Raven turns cold and jealous and God, it’s obvious that she has a crush on Finn too.

She tells this to Lexa one afternoon when they’re studying for a big test in the library. Lexa highlights the words on her books and copies stuff from the computer and writes down notes on her sticky paper. She’s so good at this whole studying thing because Clarke just spends the entire time complaining, pretending to read some block of text in her notes and then complaining all over again.

This afternoon, she complains a bit more because Finn tapped her on the shoulder three times and looked away during Art class and to think about it now, especially when she’s sitting with Lexa, is deathly annoying and Clarke just rolls her eyes at the memory.

Lexa looks up at her then, tilting her head to the side.

“Something bothering you?” she asks.

“It’s just this boy in my class,” Clarke mutters, “His name is Finn and God, he’s so annoying! He always bothers me whenever I’m drawing and when I finish with it, he snatches it from my hands and makes some cool comment about how it must highlight something from my soul or whatnot, which is stupid, because I was just drawing you and he started saying something about—”

“Wait,” Lexa interrupts her monologue. If Clarke looks closely enough, then she’d be able to see the faint pink flush on her best friend’s cheeks but she’s not looking, because she’s too busy glaring at the ground at the thought of Finn Collins. “You were drawing me?” Lexa questions.

Clarke shrugs, looking up briefly. Lexa seems pleasantly surprised. “Well yeah,” Clarke says, “I always draw you. You’re like, burned in my memory or something. Plus, you’re pretty.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” Clarke grins but then goes back to Finn again. “Anyway, Finn has this best friend named Raven and I think Raven has a crush on him because whenever I talk about Finn, she always shuts down and gets really mad and sometimes, she throws stuff.”

“Like what?”

“One time, it was her shoe.”

Lexa suddenly laughs and Clarke is jolted back to their first meeting, with the said brunette towering over her and wiping the paint off her cheeks while giggling and smiling. A lot of people have said that Lexa is too serious, that she hardly smiles whenever she’s not around and it gives her pride, knowing that she’s the only person Lexa is truly comfortable with. So, she grins at the memory, because she always treasures it as one of the best moments in her life, since it led her to Lexa.

“I hope you didn’t get hurt,” Lexa comments.

“Nah, I’m awesome.” Clarke’s grin widens when Lexa gives her a fond look. Then she looks back down at her notes, because somehow, she can’t seem to hold Lexa’s gaze. She takes a deep breath and says, “So, what’s the deal with Pluto?”

//

Lexa quickly gets tired of hearing about Finn Collins.

It takes one encounter for her to hate him for the rest of her life (which, she later finds out, will not be an understatement) because she finds out that he’s nothing but trouble for Clarke and that they are definitely not meant to be together. It’s stupid, really, because they’re only ten years old and it’s not like her heart wants to give out whenever Clarke talks about getting a boyfriend or whenever she remarks about wanting to marry Channing Tatum. It’s not like she doesn’t want Clarke to have someone (because she does, just anybody but Finn Collins.) It’s not like she’s completely, head-over-heels in love with her best friend or something.

She’s already told herself this over and over again—she loves Clarke and she definitely isn’t in love with her.

(The lines blur at times, especially in moments like this.)

She meets Finn Collins while heading home from school one day. Clarke called in sick this morning. Somehow, she’s gotten the stomach flu and has to be in bed all day. Lexa buys some chocolate from a store and then makes her way to her street, making sure that Clarke’s treat doesn’t accidentally fall down the sewers or something. She’s about to turn a corner when Finn pops out of nowhere, blocking her path.

“Hi,” he says, grinning cheekily. He isn’t exactly tall, since Lexa has to look down on him from where she’s seated.

She stops her bike and glares. “What is it?” she snaps.

He doesn’t look much. Long, floppy dark hair and cool grey eyes with an annoying way of smirking, Lexa has seen cuter boys and she doesn’t even like them. She thinks of them as another species, in fact.

“You’re friends with Clarke, right?” he asks.

“Best friends,” Lexa growls. Yeah, she’s territorial and in the span of the thirty seconds that Lexa’s been in the same space as Finn Collins, she already hates him. Based on the scowl on his face, he seems to return the feeling. Good, Lexa thinks, wanting nothing more than to push this kid down the sewers.

“Can you give her something for me?” he asks, voice laced with dislike.

“Do I look like a delivery girl to you?”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing something from his pockets and nearly throwing the thing at Lexa. She catches it with one hand, her jaw nearly dropping in surprise when she sees that it’s a necklace with a metal figure fashioned as a two-headed deer at the end of it. She looks back at Finn, who shrugs at her raised eyebrows.

“It’s an inside joke,” he explains.

Lexa knows. Clarke told her all about it last week. Apparently, Clarke had been drawing something for her personal project about a dystopian earth and mutated animals came to mind. Finn saw her painting of the deer and commented that it looked awesome as hell. Now Clarke can’t stop talking about it, which reminds Lexa of her burning hatred for the boy in front of her.

She’s not going to make this easy, she decides.

“What’s in it for me?” she asks, looking at the necklace with distaste.

“Uh, you get to be a good friend?” Finn says sarcastically, shrugging his shoulders when Lexa rolls her eyes. “Just do me a favor, okay? Tell Clarke that I hope she feels better by tomorrow.”

He walks away, shoulders hunched forward and Lexa is tempted to throw the necklace at the back of his head for the hell of it when she realizes that Clarke might probably kill her for doing just that. She lets out a loud exhale, pocketing the gift and glancing at the chocolate she has in her basket. Somehow, it doesn’t take long for her to figure out that Clarke will probably like Finn’s gift better than hers and the fact burrows a hole into her chest.

(Later, when she walks in to find Clarke snuggled next to Romeo, she considers just throwing the necklace away but then again—Clarke likes Finn, for some unknown reason, and Finn seems to like her back and there has to be some rule about letting your friend be happy—so Lexa is going to suck it up and be a good best friend, because that’s what best friends do right?)

(Clarke wears that stupid necklace every day for the rest of the year, until, by some unfortunate incident, she loses it during a sleepover with Lexa, who may or may not have flushed it down the toilet by accident.)

//

Clarke gets her first kiss during Raven’s fifteenth birthday party and by some flaw in the universe; it’s not with Finn Collins.

Most of the grade has been invited to the party so Clarke and Lexa show up awhile after the designated meeting time. They get dropped off by Gustus, who pecks Lexa’s cheek and then ruffles Clarke’s hair, before driving away. Lexa looks a bit embarrassed by the display of affection but Clarke just laughs and pulls her along to the inside of the house, where most of their schoolmates have already started partying in. Clarke can already spot Raven and Octavia dancing to a high school musical song through the front window.

“Tonight is the night,” Clarke says out loud, grinning broadly.

Lexa turns to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“The night I get my first kiss,” Clarke answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Based on the look of pure horror on Lexa’s face, it must not be so obvious. She is quick to change the subject because she knows how weird Lexa gets whenever they talk about relationships. “Anyway, we should go in. Raven’s probably dying to know what my gift for her is.”

Lexa grunts, shoving her hands into her pockets. “And what is your gift? You’ve been pretty secretive about it.”

“Just a painting I drew.”

“Just?” Lexa questions, “Clarke, your drawings are amazing. My kindergarten scribbles can barely compare to your high school sketches.”

Clarke grins, a blush coming up to her cheeks. She always likes it when Lexa praises her because she knows it’s true. Lexa Woods is probably the most honest and straightforward any person can ever meet and thank God she has her for a best friend. She tugs Lexa to her side and pulls her in for a side-hug, not catching the way Lexa’s eyes dilate and the way she seems to have lost the ability to speak for a few seconds. They’ve hugged plenty of times, especially when they were kids, and Lexa always somehow manages to smell the same. Like forest mixed in with a bit of mint from chewing bubblegum and flowers from her perfume.

“Thanks, Alexandria,” Clarke lets the name drag across her tongue and Lexa rolls her eyes before pushing the blonde off her.

“Thanks for ruining the mood,” she mutters under her breath.

Clarke just smiles cheekily at her before tangling their fingers together and then pushing the door open.

//

The party is wild and messy for a fourteen year old girl and Lexa can feel her palms sweating the minute Clarke lets go of her hands to go fetch some drinks and maybe catch sight of a certain dark-haired boy, leaving Lexa to stand alone in the middle in a room full of dancing people (who are thankfully too young to drink anything except for Coke and orange juice) with her heart pounding loudly inside her chest and her fingers shaking at her sides.

She knows most of these people but she’s kept to herself for the first half of the year, so technically, she doesn’t have any friends. Except for Clarke. Clarke, who is currently nowhere to be found. She takes a slow, steadying breath before moving to the couch, where a girl with flowers and braids in her hair is currently checking something in her phone. Lexa bites her lip, because this girl is undeniably attractive and she has to wonder if sitting next to her is a violation of her privacy or something.

Almost as if she’s read her mind, the girl looks up and God, she really is pretty with eyes the color of amber and cheeks spattered with freckles and a smile so radiant that it rival’s the sun’s rays.

“Hi,” the girl says, putting away her phone, “Do you want to sit down?”

Lexa takes another deep breath. “If you don’t mind,” she mumbles.

“I don’t,” Flower Girl says, smiling as she gestures to the empty space next to her and Lexa nearly stumbles on her way for a chance to sit down since her legs have been starting to cramp for a while now. Flower Girl’s smile widens as Lexa rights herself, blushing furiously.

“I’m Lexa,” she introduces herself, because it’s better than stuttering out an apology.

“Costia,” the girl greets, “and I must say, I don’t think I’ve noticed you before. Are you sure you go to our school?”

Lexa shrugs. “I’m sure. Besides, I don’t really go out much.”

“Are you one of those social outcasts?” Costia’s tone is joking.

Frowning, Lexa is about to say “Fuck the hierarchy” because that’s what Clarke always say whenever someone mentions that she’s too popular to be hanging out with weirdos like Lexa Woods but she bites back her tongue because Lexa is only thirteen and she doesn’t think having a colorful language is your best bet to get in with the new crowd.

“Maybe,” she says instead.

Costia beams. “Do you want a drink?” she asks, gesturing to her red cup, which is only filled with Coke. “I know that it’s not like in those movies where we both get drunk and then make out in the broom closet or anything but hey, it must count for something, right?”

Lexa lets out a small laugh because a.) she’s pretty sure Costia is flirting with her b.) she’s alone for the first time without Clarke glued to her side and she’s already made a new friend and lastly c.) she’s also ninety percent sure that she likes Costia flirting with her.

(She ignores the other ten percent that is currently dying to get up and look for her best friend.)

“I’d like that,” she tells Costia and Costia smiles at her again before getting up from her place on the couch and maneuvering her way towards the buffet table. Lexa quickly places her bag on Costia’s space, so that no one will take her seat. She ignores the first fact that her cheeks hurt because she’s smiling so much and the second fact that yeah, she’s really starting to like Costia. Also, the third fact; that Clarke might possibly not like Costia but Lexa’s too happy to care.

Costia comes back brandishing two red cups, handing one to Lexa and resuming her place on the couch again. The party has considerably calmed down in the past ten minutes and Lexa notices small groups heading outside to enjoy the fire Raven has started and couples pairing off to sneak upstairs. It doesn’t help with the fact that she and Costia are alone in the living room, except for a few people still dancing to the music behind them.

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” Costia says, as the start of small talk.

(Lexa nearly chokes on her drink.)

//

Clarke looks around for the fifth time ever since she’s sat down and formed a semi-circle with the rest of her close friends. Raven and Wells Jaha are sitting on either side of her and she can tell that she’s worrying Wells and annoying Raven with the amount of times she’s craned her neck and whipped her head around. They’re outside in the backyard, enjoying the heat of the fire Raven has worked up and Clarke looks down at her empty solo cup, wishing that she could use it as an excuse to get inside already and look for Lexa.

“Jesus, Princess,” Raven mutters loudly, “Way to make a girl feel special on her birthday.”

Clarke turns towards her, mouth slightly open. “Wait, what?” she asks.

Raven pointedly glares at her but its halfhearted because the corners of her lips are turned up. “You’ve been looking like a lost puppy for the past ten minutes and there should be some protocol about giving your full attention to the person who’s celebrating her fifteenth year of innocence before she gets flat out drunk next year but I guess you aren’t oriented.”

“Sorry,” Clarke says, chewing the inside of her cheek, “It’s just that—my best friend’s my ride home and I can’t find her anywhere.”

“You mean the weird one who barely speaks to anyone and who would rather be caught dead listening to Justin Bieber than in one of the most popular parties of the year?” Clarke nods and Raven laughs lightly, shaking her head as she mutters something that ridiculously sounds like, “You’re hopeless.”

“What are you talking about?” Clarke presses on, because she’s not hopeless—why the hell would she be hopeless?

Raven shrugs, sipping her Coke and spitting it out in the fire. It doesn’t do much to get a rise from the flames and she leans back in disappointment before letting her gaze fall back on Finn Collins, who’s sitting directly across her, watching them both. Clarke’s cheeks flush when she catches his gaze and she turns back to Raven.

“Raven, what did—?”

“HEY, EVERYBODY,” Raven yells out of nowhere, staggering up to her feet and moving across the yard. The rest of the group follows, most of them grumbling at the lack of warmth, and Wells pulls Clarke up to her feet as they form another semi-circle near Raven again, this time closer to the moon and farther from the fire. Raven tips her head back and exhales loudly before she says, louder this time, “LET’S PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE.”

There are a few whoops from Octavia and some guys but Clarke and Wells both groan into their hands. Wells grins at her then and Clarke says, “This is a bit too grade school, don’t you think?”

“We are young,” Wells says, pushing his cup towards her. Clarke hits her empty one with his, pretending that they’re beer bottles instead of pathetic solo cups and for the sixth time that night, she wonders where the hell Lexa is.

A guy named Murphy produces a beer bottle from his bag and everybody whistles appreciatively, Raven loudly commenting that he’s got some vices he needs to get rid of soon. Murphy just shrugs, before lying back down on the grass and enjoying the stars. Harper and Monroe are both chatting excitedly with each other, because it’s their first time playing Spin The Bottle and yeah, it’s Clarke’s first time too but she doesn’t know what’s the big deal. But then she spots Finn’s eyes from across the yard and she suddenly understands.

This is her chance—her chance to finally stop being such a whiny girl who daydreams about first kisses and Finn’s cool, grey eyes. Having your first kiss in one of the most popular girl’s parties is automatically a ticket into being a real teenager, the type who goes to parties and gets her car at sixteen and who has a fake ID.

Clarke takes a deep steady breath as Raven goes ahead to spin the bottle. It takes a few seconds before it points at Jasper, whose goggles fall over his eyes in shock.

“Pucker up,” Raven gleefully says and Jasper stutters out a few half-assed comments. His best friend, Monty, is glaring at the birthday girl as she approaches. The kiss is chaste and friendly but as Raven pulls away, Jasper’s mouth keeps dropping open.

In the next spin, Jasper gets Wells. Clarke laughs at the look of pure horror on her friend’s face. Jasper doesn’t look so happy about it too because when their lips meet, he is quick to pull back. Wells drowns the rest of his cup of Coke before throwing it towards the fire.

The next spin is Wells and Maya, a cute girl whom Jasper has been eyeing for quite some time now. Their kiss is soft as well, honest and quick and Wells gives Maya a small smile before he returns to his place next to Clarke.

Maya gets Murphy and they don’t look too ecstatic about it because Murphy scowls before leaning in to peck Maya’s mouth and Maya quietly asks Harper if she’s got some breath mint left. The next spin is an even worse pairing because it’s Murphy and Octavia. Octavia glares at the beer bottle almost as if it has personally offended her and Murphy rolls his eyes dramatically. Thank God they have already bypassed the stage of cooties because they both look like they’re aiming to kill each other.

Clarke leans her body next to Wells and eyes the door leading back to the house. Usually, Lexa would be out and about looking for her already and because she’s not here, it can only mean something. Either she’s busy or she’s already left. The first part is more likely because there is no way in hell Lexa would just ditch her.

Somebody whoops and when Clarke glances back at the group, she spots Raven grinning broadly and the bottle pointing directly at her. Octavia raises her eyebrows when Clarke’s gaze locks with hers.

“Finally!” Raven says, nudging Harper who laughs, “Let’s get some action here ladies!”

Octavia rolls her eyes and Clarke’s mouth suddenly feels very, very dry. She glances over at Finn, who grins at her as if they’re sharing a secret or a joke that she has no part of. Her heart plummets to the bottom of her heart because her first kiss is not going to be her middle school crush; her first kiss is with a girl—one who is currently walking towards her with her hips swaying and hair flying.

Wells pushes Clarke into a sitting position just as Octavia reaches her. The rest of the group is watching, most of the guys grinning and the girls all waiting patiently. When Clarke glances back at Wells, he looks pained.

“Just so you know,” Octavia says, all dark eyes and seductive smiles, “I totally swing both ways.”

Octavia kisses her and Clarke’s brain short-circuits because—wow—the girl’s lips are soft and yielding, tasting strongly of Coke and strawberry lip gloss. And she’s never had other kisses to compare this with but she feels like this is what first kisses should feel like. Like a warmth spreading through your chest and a giddiness that makes you roll your toes. Octavia makes a small sound as she deepens the kiss and Clarke’s eyes flutter close. They stay connected for a few more seconds before Wells loudly clears his throat and Octavia pulls away with a smack.

“Whoa,” Clarke mutters and the group must hear because they’re laughing and Octavia is blushing and grinning and Clarke’s heart is definitely not slamming loudly against the inside of her ribcage.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Octavia tells her, winking before she gets back to her place.

Clarke spins the bottle with her head still spinning and to another flaw in the universe, she gets Atom. Atom, who raises his eyebrows at her when Clarke stands and walks over to where he’s seated. She pulls him in for a kiss and Octavia must’ve fueled her somehow because the kiss is biting and sloppy but completely worth it to see the look of shock on the guy’s face.

“Look who’s starting to become a party animal,” Wells tells her when she gets back.

(Whether or not it’s a flaw in the universe or a miracle, Clarke doesn’t get to kiss Finn that night.)

//

Lexa meets up with Clarke when the clock hits 10 PM. She’s standing outside the porch, wearing the sweater her father had made her bring with her and grinning broadly at the number Costia typed in before she disappeared into the crowd. They had an awesome time, casually ignoring small talk and talking about the universe and the stars and sometimes, even aliens. They catch a few facts about each other and Lexa learns that Costia’s hobbies are photography and soccer and she has a guilty pleasure rewatching Nicholas Sparks movies. She hates Math with a burning passion and enjoys taking long walks across the beach.

Lexa really, really likes her.

Clarke pops up from the door, waving at Raven and Octavia before fully turning towards Lexa, who glances not so discreetly at her phone.

“Did you get lucky?” the blonde asks.

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she says, looking closely at the red flush on Clarke’s pale skin. “Did you?”

“We played Spin The Bottle,” Clarke answers, “I got to kiss four people tonight.”

A unwanted feeling that resembles something close to jealously and anger clutches at Lexa’s heart like a vice grip and she ignores it, choosing to focus on Clarke’s happiness. She tells herself that she’s jealous because Clarke got her first kiss and Lexa didn’t. She tells herself that she’s jealous because Clarke fits so well with a large crowd of people and she sticks out like a sore thumb. She tells herself she’s jealous, not because she wanted to be Clarke’s first kiss, but because she wants Clarke’s first kiss to be with someone special, and not four random people she got on a whim.

“That’s nice,” Lexa says, her tone tight, “Was it like the movies?”

Clarke shrugs. “It was okay,” she says, “but boy, kissing Octavia was like—wow.”

“You kissed Octavia?”

“Technically, she kissed me first but yeah, I kissed her.”

Lexa’s brain short-circuits. “You kissed a girl?” She doesn’t mean to sound so shocked but Clarke’s like the straightest person she knows—this is the girl who daydreams about a spring wedding with Channing Tatum, for God’s sake; this is the girl who would kiss Finn Collins, if given the chance; this is the girl who possibly cannot be caught dead kissing other girls as well.

Clarke gives her a look. “No need to be so shocked about it,” she mutters, her back straightening when she spots Lexa’s car coming into the driveway. “I might swing both ways, when I get older.”

Lexa doesn’t know how to feel about this newfound information. Because less than hour ago, she was sure she liked Costia, and not in the I-want-to-be-friends-with-her type of liking but in the I-want-to-kiss-her-and-hold-her-hand-in-public type of liking.

A memory resurfaces in her brain and she tries to ignore it. She doesn’t want to think about Clarke’s fifth birthday, when the blonde had looked at her with happiness pouring every fiber of being as she said, It’s perfect. Thank you. She doesn’t want to think about what she had thought back then, about her realization that she may or may not be in love with her best friend.

(She’s not—she loves Clarke—she’s not in love with her or anything.)

She bites her lower lip so hard she almost draws blood and Clarke clumsily reaches for her hand when Lexa’s dad honks his horn at them, pulling her towards the car.

“Come inside?” the blonde asks, giving her a look.

Lexa smiles but it’s a lot different than her usual smiles—this feels tight and forced. “I’m already on my way,” she says.

//

Clarke’s phone pops up with a message.

Lexa <3 (7:46AM): I’m outside. Where are you?

Clarke Griffin (7:46AM): Hold on. I’m trying to look for my shoes.

Lexa <3 (7:47 AM): Please tell me you’re not trying to smuggle Romeo into your bag.

Clarke Griffin (7:48 AM): ……

Clarke Griffin (7:48 AM): it’s the first day of high school and I’m nervous and Romeo makes me feel better.

Clarke Griffin (7:49 AM): also my shoes are seriously gone. Come inside?

Lexa <3 (7:49 AM): I’m already on my way.

The door to her room opens and Clarke sheepishly looks up from where she’s crouched on all fours, trying to look for the new shoes she had just bought for the first day of class. Lexa crosses her arms and leans against the door way, raising her eyebrows. She is wearing a white turtleneck with ripped jeans, her grey beanie covering her forest green eyes.

“We’re going to be late,” she says.

“My dad will drive us there,” Clarke mutters, glancing back down under her bed. Nothing. She stands up and sighs. “I lost them. I’m doomed. I’m going to have to walk into class with nothing but my socks on and I’ll be at the bottom of the hierarchy.”

Lexa smiles fondly. “You won’t be alone,” she says before she walks into Clarke’s closet and searches around for a few minutes. Clarke grabs her bag from the bed, glancing sourly at Lexa before putting Romeo back on top of her pillows. When Lexa comes back, she’s holding Clarke’s shoes in one hand.

“Where’d you find it?” Clarke asks, taking the shoes gratefully.

“At the bottom of your closet.”

“I don’t remember putting it there.”

“You didn’t.” Lexa smiles. “I did.”

Clarke glares. “You are evil, Lexa Woods. I hate you.”

Lexa adjusts her beanie and nudges her shoulder with Clarke’s. She’s got a playful smirk on her face. “No, you don’t,” she says.

“No, I don’t,” Clarke agrees.

//

Lexa walks into English class and immediately spots Costia sitting by the window, talking to a tall, handsome looking boy with a shaved head and broad shoulders. She pushes down the jealously rising in her chest and takes a seat at the front of the room, arranging her back by her desk and then pointedly pulling out her phone. Clarke has Algebra for first period with Finn and Octavia.

Lexa <3 (8:32 AM): how’s class?

Clarke Griffin (8:35 AM): Mr. Wallace Jr. is an asshole and I can’t text you right now. See you for lunch.

Lexa <3 (8:36 AM): see you then.

She pockets her phone at the same time Costia drops into the seat next to her.

“Hey, stranger,” the other girl says. She’s wearing a floral dress with a belt around her waist and designer boots. Her hair is knotted into intricate braids at the top of her head, donned with flowers all over again. Lexa is strongly reminded of their first meeting and something in her chest swoops upwards at the sight of the other girl. A grin makes its way into her face.

“Hi,” she says, almost shyly.

“I thought you forgot all about me,” Costia says, almost mournfully, “We texted for like two months before you disappeared. I haven’t even seen you all summer.”

“I might’ve dropped my phone and lost your number and got a new phone and was too scared to ask for your number all over again,” Lexa admits and Costia looks at her for a few seconds before she laughs. It’s not a mocking laugh, it’s a genuine laugh—one that makes Lexa feel like she’s floating into the skies.

“Thank God,” Costia says, “I thought you were pissed at me.”

“Why would I be pissed at you?” Lexa is confused and it must show on her face because Costia sobers up and says, with a small smile tinged with sadness,

“Because I thought I scared you off.”

“But you didn’t,” Lexa is quick to say and Costia smiles.

“Like I said, thank God.”

//

“Who the hell is that?” Octavia gushes, grabbing Clarke’s arm and practically shaking her.

Clarke looks up from her locker, glancing over to where Octavia’s gaze is directed. A tall and really hot guy is walking out of Mr. Kane’s class with Lexa and a pretty girl Clarke has seen plenty of times before in tow. She knows that Octavia means the guy but she can’t help but stare at the girl, who’s currently chatting excitedly with Lexa and touching her arm and laughing too hard. Lexa looks pleasantly surprised with the amount of attention she’s getting and she shyly smiles at the girl before ducking her head.

That must be Costia, Clarke thinks to herself. Lexa spent two months on her phone, texting the other girl senseless until she accidentally dropped her device into the lake while out for a daily morning run. Clarke doesn’t remember seeing the other girl so distressed at the loss and now she understands why.

“They look cute together,” Clarke says out loud.

Octavia shoots her a look. “I was talking about Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome but yeah, the other two behind do look like a couple.” She doesn’t seem so interested about Lexa and Costia, because she’s currently eyeing the guy with a hunger that Clarke only sees whenever she’s faced with pizza. The comparison is slightly terrifying.

Clarke ignores the unwanted feeling in her chest when Lexa passes by without noticing her. Octavia grins cheekily at the guy, who returns the gesture with a small, soft smile.

“That’s it,” Octavia says, when they round a corner, “I’m officially in love.”

Raven pops out of nowhere, her hands and neck and cheeks all plastered with charcoal and water paint. She looks like something from a tribal movie and Clarke grins at the comparison. She and Octavia stare at her long and hard enough for Raven to sigh and mutter something about trampling all over Mr. Wallace Sr.’s art supplies while hurrying for History.

“Raven,” Octavia says, serious enough that Raven stops rummaging around in her bag to look at her in confusion, “Do you know the tall, hot guy with the shaved head, broad shoulders and nice personality?”

“Lincoln Grounds?” Raven answers immediately, shrugging when Octavia squeals with glee, “He’s the only guy I know who fits the description. I met him over the summer, I think. He usually stops by the shop to pick up supplies for his dad.”

While Octavia is gushing over her new found soulmate, Clarke slams her locker shut and tries not to brood over the fact that Lexa has found somebody else to fawn over too.

//

Not everything about Clarke and Lexa’s friendship is all about talking to each other on the phone during late nights and then knowing each other Starbucks’s order and repeating inside jokes until the other is doubled over laughing so hard. It’s messy, too, because Clarke is the kind of person who says everything out loud, who isn’t scared to say her feelings, who wants and knows how to feel validated about her problems and etc. Lexa is the type of person to pull back, to hide her feelings and emotions, to easily slip into a mask of indifference and mild defiance. They’re perfect for each other—they’ve both acknowledged that fact plenty of times—and their pieces fit but sometimes the pieces can press too hard upon another.

They get into a fight about none other than Finn Collins. It starts off small at first, with a weekly sleepover and Lexa commenting that Clarke’s been spending a lot of time with Finn and Raven. She tries to keep her tone neutral but must come off sounding bitter and vaguely jealous. Clarke looks up from where she’s been preparing the movie and scowls at Lexa’s look of indifference.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands.

Lexa raises her eyebrows. “It doesn’t mean anything,” she says.

Clarke puts down the movie, still glaring at her. “Well, you made it sound like it meant something,” she tells her best friend accusingly, “So what if I spend a lot of time with Finn and Raven? They’re my friends—they like me.”

Lexa’s starting to get annoyed as well because it was just a comment and she didn’t mean anything by it but now Clarke’s looking at her and locking her jaw and she knows that she can’t drop this subject unless Clarke has fully breached it. She does that a lot and Lexa’s always grateful for it but now she’s just plain pissed off.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” she snaps.

“Are you going to tell me that I look desperate too?” Clarke says.

Lexa’s eyes narrow and she sits up from where she’s been lying against Clarke’s bed. Romeo falls against the empty space behind her. “What the hell are you talking about?” she growls lowly and at the look of shame on Clarke’s face, she presses on, harder this time, “Who told you that?”

“Just Murphy,” Clarke mutters.

“What did he say?”

“He told me that I looked desperate, clinging to the pair of Finn and Raven. Because it’s obvious that she loves him and Finn loves her too but he likes me and I don’t know what to do with that. Murphy also said something about me looking like I want to break them up or something, which is stupid, because they’re not even dating. They’re just really close friends and I don’t want to break them up.” Clarke exhales a loud breath, rubbing her eyes. “I like Finn. So what? I’m not in love with him or anything.”

Lexa tightens her jaw. “But you want to be,” she accuses.

Clarke glares at her. “I’m not like that,” she says, “I don’t want Finn like that.”

“God, you’re being delusional!” Lexa yells, flinching at the sound of her voice, “Of course you want him! I’ve been spending the past five years listening to you talk about how he’s so annoying and that he hogs your drawings and that he makes you stupid necklaces, which I’m glad is gone by the way—because damn it, Clarke, he’s not worth it.”

“The necklace was a onetime thing!” Clarke screeches. Then understanding dawns on her features as she stares long and hard at Lexa. “Wait; were you the one who threw it away?”

The silence that follows is answer enough and hurt flashes across Clarke’s face before anger replaces it. She stands up from where she’s seated and then throws a pillow at Lexa’s face. The gesture hurts and Lexa’s standing up too because there’s no way in hell she’s going to let Clarke push her like that.

“Have you wanted to sabotage my chance with him all this time?” Clarke questions, pained and incredulous. There are tears in her eyes but Lexa’s too angry to care about the fact that she’s hurting her best friend.

“What chance, Clarke?” she says, “Like you said, he loves Raven.”

“But he’s in love with me!” Clarke shouts and then clamps her hand against her mouth, looking as if she wants nothing more than for the ground to swallow her up.

Lexa’s eyes widen and she grows quiet, because she doesn’t know what else to say.

“He’s in love with me,” Clarke repeats. She looks at Lexa then and there’s something so strangely odd about the way she’s staring. Lexa’s breath catches in her throat and she remembers Clarke’s fifth birthday all over again, with Clarke wearing the crown and looking at Lexa the same way she’s looking at her right now, partly with hope and partly with sadness.

Lexa stays quiet and Clarke continues, “Being in love with someone and loving them are two very different things.”

“No, they’re not.” Lexa’s voice comes off cold and detached. She feels as if someone has doused her with cold water because she’s shaking and gasping slightly and wanting nothing more than to run away. She thinks about Clarke’s fifth birthday, thinks about her goddamn realization, thinks about how she’s ninety-nine percent sure that she loves Clarke Griffin. The other one percent has to wonder if she’s in love with her but she pushes the thought away.

Clarke looks disappointed. “Yes, they are,” she says quietly.

Somehow, it feels like they’re no longer talking about Finn and Raven so Lexa grabs her blanket and pillow from the bed and storms outside, saying that she’ll just go back home for the remainder of the night.

(She tells herself that she’s not in love with Clarke Griffin. It’s final but she has to wonder how many times she’s told herself those words and the other time she fails to convince herself.)

//

Clarke doesn’t talk to Lexa for two whole weeks.

She wakes up with Romeo pressed against her side and her eyes catch on the words written with Lexa’s sloppy five-year-old writing on the white shirt. Please don’t eat paint and die and leave me alone in this world, she reads and she has to marvel at living proof that Lexa was once dependent and completely unhinged with her emotions. She can’t remember the last time Lexa has said I love you or Please don’t leave me. She usually just clenches her jaw and pretends that she’s not feeling anything. It’s stupid, because Clarke has seen this girl crying over Fred Weasley’s death and looking absolutely pained when she watches war documentaries.

It’s a Saturday, so Clarke allows herself a few moments of peaceful silence before her entire brain is basically screaming at her to get up already, which she does half a minute later. She puts Romeo away and then walks over to her study table, where she’s spent the past week drawing her frustration and anger into paper. There are plenty of sketches sitting in front of her, her eyes catching Finn’s unfinished face, Raven’s dark eyes and her father’s figure standing by the doorway with his arms crossed. She turns a page and sucks in a deep breath when she remembers that she’s spent most of last night trying to recreate Lexa’s face displayed with different emotions.

It’s a bit daunting, when she realizes that she can’t remember the last time Lexa screamed at her out of pure anger, except for the fight two weeks ago; or the last time Lexa laughed so hard she was practically doubled over and crying. Clarke’s spent her sophomore year hanging out with her close group of friends and she only occasionally catches Lexa in school for lunch or in class. Lexa has been spending an abnormal amount of time with a girl named Costia and Lincoln, whom Octavia is still pining over.

It hits her right there and then—she’s about to lose Lexa. She can feel it, feel their connection basically getting screwed over and over again. She can feel Lexa by the edge of her fingertips, walking away from her and she’s so close to losing her forever that she nearly grabs her phone and punches the brunette’s speed dial.

She stops herself, however, when her eyes fall back on the page. She sits down and puts her phone away, running her fingers through her hair and letting out a deep sigh.

There are seven portraits of Lexa all in all. The first is of Lexa, with her usual stoic mask of indifference, staring hard into a distance. The second is of her smiling, closed-lip and polite eyes. The third is of her laughing, the gleam of her teeth noticeable even in charcoal and her forest green eyes crinkling at the sides. The fourth is of the brunette pissed off and angry, jaw tightly clenched and a fire in her gaze that Clarke can’t manage to portray into paper. The fifth portrait is different because it shows Lexa sleeping, features relaxed and looking like her age. When Clarke’s eyes move to the sixth drawing, her heart clenches because it depicts a picture of Lexa looking at Costia, eyes soft with a barely noticeable smile gracing her lips. She looks loving and supportive and Clarke cannot remember the last time Lexa looked at her like that. She only catches glimpses of this look whenever she joins Lexa and Costia for lunch once a week. Finally, the seventh shows Lexa the last time Clarke had seen her, tense and agitated, eyes full of sadness and mouth turned down at the sides. She both looks terrified and distressed and Clarke’s heart clenches at the sight of it.

Her thoughts are interrupted by someone knocking on the door. She turns around, some part of her expecting to see Lexa but disappointment fills her bones when she realizes that it’s just her father.

“Hey, kid,” her dad greets.

Clarke smiles at him. “Hi, dad,” she mumbles.

He walks into the room, looking around. Clarke closes her sketchpad and turns her full attention towards him.

“So, Lexa’s stopped coming over,” he observes, his voice low and it almost sounds as if he’s talking to himself but Clarke knows her dad and she knows that this is an opening to a long lecture about keeping your best friends close.

Clarke really doesn’t need that lecture.

“We got into a fight,” she mutters.

Her dad nods, perches himself against the vanity table. He picks up a charcoal pencil and plays with it idly for a few seconds before he says, “Go on.”

“It was about some stupid guy,” Clarke mutters. A stupid guy, who doesn’t know what he wants since he keeps coming to her even when he already has Raven.

“I didn’t think Lexa liked guys,” her father comments offhandedly.

“She doesn’t,” Clarke is quick to interject and frowns, realizing that Lexa has never shared any sentiments about some guys she has her eyes on. She suddenly remembers Raven’s fifteenth birthday party and the shock on Lexa’s face when Clarke told her that she and Octavia kissed. Then she thinks to Costia and the pieces fall into place and oh. It’s obvious. Lexa isn’t into guys at all.

“I should probably apologize now,” Clarke mutters, because who cares if Lexa likes girls?

“How big was this fight?” her dad asks.

“It was loud,” Clarke admits, “and she’s got this annoying habit of clamming up, you know? She doesn’t say what she’s feeling—it’s like she wants to be a robot or something. It’s so stupid.”

“People have unique in dealing with emotions.”

“Yeah but things are starting to be different. I can feel it. She’s pulling away,” Lexa insists, “and I don’t want her to pull away. I want her to come crawling back and stay best friends with me forever because that’s what best friends are supposed to do.” She sucks in a deep breath, tears pricking the back of her eyes. She wipes them off and glares heatedly at her sketchpad.

Her father laughs and then walks over to where she’s standing, pulling her in for a side-hug. She inhales in his musky scent and closes her eyes.

“Clarke,” he says, “If Lexa’s the type of person who clams up occasionally when faced with her feelings, I don’t think she’s the one who’s going to come crawling back. I think you have to suck it up and apologize for the both of you.”

Wrinkling her nose, Clarke pulls away. “I thought you were on my side,” she whines.

“I am,” he insists but then his eyes soften and he smiles again, “but I’m also on Lexa’s side too.”

//

Lexa crosses her arms and leans back against her chair, glaring half-heartedly at her unfinished homework. She doesn’t necessarily hate Math but she hates the amount of homework she’s been given over the weekend, knowing full well that she could be doing something more important, such as moan over the fight she and Clarke had three weeks ago.

Once again, she contemplates the effectiveness of American education when her door swings open and her father walks in slowly, looking cautious.

“Alexandria,” he says and Lexa feels her spine straightening as she regards her father. He never calls her by her real name, unless he’s trying to be affectionate or trying to soften bad news. Based on the grim look he has on his face, Lexa can tell that it’s bad news.

“What is it?” Lexa asks, already standing halfway from her chair.

“There’s been an accident,” her father mumbles, looking both sad and dazed as he beckons Lexa over.

“Is Grandma alright?” Her grandmother has been falling ill quite recently but when her dad shakes his head, she has to move to another possible victim. “Did Mercutio get run over by a truck?”

Mercutio is her German Shepherd, named specifically for Romeo Montague’s best friend. She got him when she was six years old and both she and Clarke adored the pup, almost to the point that Lexa spent two years sleeping with him by her bed until her father enforced a no-dogs-on-the-bed rule. Come to think of it, she hasn’t seen Mercutio around the house for this day, which must mean that either he’s the one with the accident or he’s simply just wandering around the neighborhood.

The pain in her chest loosens slightly when her dad shakes his head again.

“Then who got into an accident?” she asks, her voice cautious.

Her father sighs, realizing that prolonging the inevitable probably won’t soften the blow. He looks over at his daughter, sadness filling every inch of his aging features and Lexa’s about to ask again when he opens his mouth and says, “Clarke’s dad.” He takes another deep breath. “His car crashed on the way to the hospital to pick up Abby. He’s dead.”

Time stops. Lexa feels as if someone’s just punched her in the gut and left her wheezing on the side of the road. Her mouth drops open and she’s speechless because Jake Griffin can’t be dead. He can’t be—there must be a mistake. She thinks back to Clarke’s dad always commenting about Clarke’s fifth birthday gift, always taking the time to catch up with her life, always smiling and laughing and generally being the greatest dad Clarke could’ve ever had.

She thinks of Clarke and she doesn’t know what’s gotten into her. They’re still not technically talking but her dad just died and she needs a friend right now and goddamn Finn Collins. Clarke needs her and Lexa is going to push through heaven and hell just to get to her.

She moves away from her father’s embrace and hurries downstairs, pounding across the distance between their houses. Clarke’s house has never looked more solemn than it does right now but Lexa doesn’t let it stop her. She opens the gate, walks across the lawn and stays directly in front of the door. She raises her fist to knock when the realization hits her right there and then. What if Clarke doesn’t want to see her?

She knocks anyway but after a few minutes of standing around and running her fingers through her messy hair, no one answers so she pushes the door open, frowning when she realizes that all the rooms are dark. Nobody has bothered to turn on the lights or even lock the door, which worries Lexa endlessly. She walks upstairs to Clarke’s room, hesitating.

“Clarke?”

Silence. Lexa takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, her eyes falling on the figure covered by blankets on the bed. The lights are all turned off and the window is open, letting a cold draft in. Lexa walks inside and nearly stumbles into an overturned chair. When she looks around more closely, she sees that Clarke has gone into a rampage. All of her sketches are strewn across the floor, the mirror at the vanity table is smashed, her books flung carelessly on the ground and a picture frame of her dad lying at the foot of Lexa’s feet, the glass crushed.

“Clarke,” Lexa calls out again, slightly alarmed. She wonders if she should leave, come back another day but then she hears a sob from the bed and hurries to Clarke’s side, minding the mess on the ground. She sits down on the very edge and stretches a hand out, hesitant and mildly scared.

“Clarke,” she says and third time must be the charm because Clarke pulls off the blanket from her head and stares at her.

To say that Clarke looks like crap is an understatement. Her golden hair is a tangled mess on top of her head, her eyes are bloodshot and there are still tear tracks against her cheeks. Her mouth, usually smiling and laughing, is turned down at the corners and slightly shaking. She sniffs and wipes at her face. Lexa doesn’t mind—she’s seen Clarke cry plenty of times, during tug of war, during Marvel movies, times where they spend all night studying and Clarke can’t seem to understand the question in front of her. It’s no longer a surprise anymore and this isn’t the first time she’s felt such sorrow at the sight of it.

“What are you doing here?” Clarke questions, her voice scratchy. Lexa takes it as a good sign that she hasn’t screamed at her face yet.

Her throat bobs painfully as she says, “I heard about your dad.” She pauses, not missing the way Clarke’s face tightens. “I thought you might need a friend, or at least a punching bag.”

Clarke laughs but it sounds hollow. Lexa brings her knees up to her chest and stares pointedly at her best friend, who avoids her gaze.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” Clarke murmurs, wiping her eyes, “Mom’s car broke down on the way to the hospital and Dad had to wake up and get her from the night shift. He must’ve been so tired because he fell asleep on the wheel and didn’t see the truck coming right at him. They told me that he died instantly, that he didn’t feel pain.”

Lexa’s chest constricts. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“I was supposed to say that first,” Clarke tells her mournfully. When Lexa frowns and tilts her head to the side in confusion, the blonde continues, “Last week, Dad told me that I was the one who’s supposed to say sorry first because it was clear that you weren’t going to do it. The fight we had? It was stupid and I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Clarke, I—” Lexa doesn’t exactly know what to say. A few phrases of I should be the one to apologize or I don’t blame you for anything but she’s never been the one to express her emotions fully. Instead, she lets the words fall from her mouth and just stares at Clarke imploringly, almost wishing that her regret and pain are written plainly across her face for her best friend to understand.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Clarke asks, her voice small.

Lexa shakes her head. “I forgave you the minute I walked out the door,” she says, reaching forward and pulling her best friend into a hug. She doesn’t remember the last time they’ve hugged, which is a bit terrifying now that she thinks about it. They have spent most of the year apart than together and the fact sends swords into her heart. And even though they’re already touching, Lexa still misses her terribly.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” Clarke repeats against her neck, her arms wrapping around Lexa’s shoulders tightly, “He wasn’t supposed to die. He—he didn’t even get to attend my graduation.” A sob rises from the blonde’s throat and Lexa tightens their embrace, can feel tears prickling the back of her eyes. “He is supposed to be there for everything good that’ll happen in my life. He’s supposed to be there when I first open up my gallery, he’s supposed to walk me down the aisle for my wedding, he’s supposed to die—like, sixty years from now, with graying hair and his grandchildren around his knees.” She says all of these while simultaneously trying not to sob but it doesn’t work and her words come out with hiccups.

Lexa hums, rubbing her hand against Clarke’s back comfortingly. The blonde buries her nose against Lexa’s shoulder, her tears falling on the crook of Lexa’s neck.

“Please don’t leave me,” Clarke whispers, her voice catching.

“Never,” Lexa promises, closing her eyes.

//

The funeral is quiet. A lot of people turn up, claiming that in some ways, Jake Griffin has reached out and touched their hearts, saying that he was one of the best people they’ve ever known and adding funny anecdotes that make Clarke laugh even though she’s crying inside. She’s been crying a lot these past few days, always on her pillow or against Lexa’s shoulder. Her mom has been stuck in her room for the past two weeks and she’s only coaxed out when Clarke makes her dinner or when she needs to go to the bathroom.

Lexa’s a huge help too. She’s kept good on her promise, staying by Clarke’s side, never leaving her even though it means that she’s skipped school for the past two weeks, sleeping next to her on the bed and making her breakfast in the morning. Clarke is glad to have her back—ecstatic even—but she can’t afford to be happy when her dad’s rotting in a grave and the house seems so desperately empty without his presence.

It starts raining the same time they start lowering the coffin six feet into the ground. Clarke shivers, wrapping her arms around herself as the water drenches her. She allows herself to cry, because the tears mix in with the rain easily enough and nobody can tell the difference. Except for Lexa, who is standing next to her and staring at the hole in the ground with her jaw clenched. She must notice Clarke’s hands shaking because she pulls out an umbrella from her bag and covers them both with it, her arm reaching out to drape across Clarke’s shoulders.

“Thanks,” Clarke murmurs, instinctively stepping closer.

Lexa takes a deep breath. “Don’t mention it,” she says in return.

Clarke stares at the coffin being lowered into the ground and then lets her gaze flicker over to where her mom is standing to her left. Abby looks absolutely distressed, tears streaming her eyes and pain flickering across her features every now and then. Clarke’s heart stutters at the sight and quickly reaches forward to grab a hold of her mother’s hand.

Abby nods at her but doesn’t pull her eyes away from her deceased husband.

Clarke glances around the crowd, seeing her father’s coworkers, her cousins from overseas, relatives she’s forgotten the names to. She sees Finn, Raven, Octavia, Wells and Costia standing as a small group to the side. Finn has his arm across Raven’s shoulders and Wells has his head bowed, almost like he’s praying. Octavia’s make-up has smeared itself across her eyes. Costia is holding a bunch of flowers in her hands, looking mournful. Clarke feels a rush of gratitude towards them, knowing that they’re for her, even though they never knew what Jake Griffin was like.

She looks up at Lexa, whose eyes have gone misty. Using her free arm, she wraps it around Lexa’s waist, nuzzling her cheek against the warmth of her best friend’s shoulder. Lexa seems to freeze but relaxes into the movement, sighing softly when she hears Clarke sniffing.

Ten minutes later, the funeral ends and the guests all head home. Clarke’s friends quickly steps over towards where’s still standing, offering their deepest regrets and condolences. Wells clasps her arm tightly, giving her a small smile and Finn pats her shoulder almost as if he’s afraid that she’ll crumble if he gets too close. Raven and Octavia both fling themselves into her arms and Clarke sucks in a deep breath, wishing that she was already home so that she can cry herself to sleep all over again.

Then it’s Costia standing in front of her, stretching out the brightly colored daisies she has brought along. Clarke accepts the bouquet, smiling when Costia wishes for the best.

“I didn’t know what else to give,” Costia admits, rubbing the back of her neck, “and I know a thing or two about flowers so I hope you like them.”

“They’re lovely,” Clarke insists and she side-steps away from the group and places the flowers on her father’s recent grave. Lexa follows her, still keeping the umbrella above both of their heads. When they head back to their friends, Raven says,

“We’ll drag you for pizza once you feel better, okay?”

Clarke nods. “Okay.”

“See you around, Griffin. Don’t be a stranger.”

They all leave and Costia passes by Lexa with a small, hesitant smile on her face. Lexa smiles back at her and once all of their friends are gone and it’s just the two of them, the slightly happy mood quickly plummets and Clarke takes another deep breath before letting her tears fall all over again.

“Hey, hey,” Lexa says, grabbing her arm and turning her around gently.

Clarke can feel the rain spattering against her cheeks and on the exposed portions of her arms. She doesn’t bother to wipe away her tears when Lexa steps in front of her, still trying to keep the umbrella balanced.

“Take a deep breath,” Lexa tells her, forest green eyes full of worry.

Clarke does. Pain stumbles into her chest and she lets out another sob.

“Clarke,” Lexa says her name like a prayer, hushed and whispered.

“I’m okay,” Clarke insists, chewing the inside of her cheek as she shuffles her feet, “I’m okay. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Clarke doesn’t deny it. Instead, she glances back at the flowers on her father’s grave, trying hard not to remember the last time she’s seen Jake Griffin alive. She pushes the images of her dad walking into her room and waking her up to tell her that he’s picking up her mom, of him smiling and kissing her forehead and saying “I love you, kid,” of him shutting the door softly behind him, his footsteps lightly treading against the floor. She tries not to remember any of that because she knows that if she’ll let the full weight of the fact that he’s gone forever slam into her, then she’ll never stop hurting.

“Hey, Clarke,” Lexa calls out to her again and when Clarke doesn’t budge from where she’s standing, the brunette throws the umbrella to the side and envelops the blonde in a bone crushing hug, leaving no room for argument. Clarke gasps at how tight Lexa is holding onto her and it takes her a moment but soon enough, she grabs at the back of Lexa’s black dress and tightens her grip. Her tears are falling again, hot against her cheeks but they cool down shortly, since the rain is still beating hard against their intertwined figures. But she doesn’t care. God, she doesn’t care if her make-up is running or if they look like a bunch of idiots in the downpour or if her mom is probably worried sick about her. What matters is Lexa pressed against her, holding her, keeping her close and it takes Clarke a short while to realize that the other girl is crying too.

Clarke buries her face against her best friend’s shoulder, biting her lip so hard that she tastes blood. Lexa holds her head and continues to cry, little sniffles escaping past her lips and they stay like that for as long as necessary, completely indifferent to the world watching them.

//

When Costia kisses her for the first time, Lexa almost wishes that its Clarke’s lips pressed against hers. Almost.

They’re sitting in Lexa’s room, doing homework and occasionally laughing at the open tabs on Tumblr and 9GAG that they have on their laptops. Costia looks wrenchingly beautiful in front of her, hair curled over one shoulder, eyes trained on the equations which lie open in front of her. She’s wearing another floral dress, which hikes up at her thighs and exposes the soft skin Lexa has admired in the past three years they’ve been friends. Lexa finds herself staring on more than one occasion and it’s starting to get creepy because Costia’s already on the sixth problem and she’s still on the second one.

She’s about to look away when Costia glances up, catching her gaze. She gulps and nearly kicks Mercutio on the face when she struggles to keep her feet still and her hands even stiller. The dog barks at her before scurrying out of a room in a hurry, leaving her red-faced and Costia staring in confusion.

“Sorry,” Lexa mutters.

Costia laughs. “What are you sorry for?” she asks.

“I—” Lexa gestures plainly at the homework in front of her, hoping that Costia will drop it.

She doesn’t. Instead, she pushes herself up on her elbows, grinning wickedly at the red-faced brunette. It’s no secret that they’ve been flirting with each other the moment they met and that Lexa has spent the past three years crushing desperately on her friend but never having the guts to do anything about it. Lincoln has urged her plenty of times but Lexa’s deathly afraid of being rejected and of losing the first friend she’s made all on her own.

(Some part of her thinks that Clarke is one of the reasons why she’s never made a move but she tells herself that it’s stupid, because Clarke doesn’t care about the people whom she’s been flirting with for more than thirty months now.)

“Have you ever kissed anybody, Lexa?” Costia asks, breaking her out of her trance.

Lexa’s mouth drops. She’s greatly reminded of the first time they met, when Costia broke through all the rules and asked her if she had kissed any girls before. She feels her cheeks burn at the thought. It’s kind of pathetic, really, that she’s never been kissed by anyone or that she’s never had the guts to kiss anybody else. And she’s already seventeen years old. She’s officially reached a new level of low.

“No need to be ashamed,” Costia says cheekily, crawling over to where Lexa’s seated.

“What—” Lexa stutters but closes her mouth again when Costia inhales sharply at their close proximity. They’re inches away from each other now and Lexa’s senses are being viciously attacked by Costia’s flowery aroma.

“We just have to change that,” Costia murmurs, a silent question in her eyes being asked. Lexa nods without thinking and Costia grins, her face as radiant as the sun. Leaning forward and pressing her mouth against Lexa’s, Costia is gentle and soft and Lexa’s heart is rapidly thundering inside her chest, to the point that she’s sure it’ll collapse due to exhaustion soon. She drops her pen and grabs the sides of Costia’s face, deepening the kiss and trying desperately hard not to imagine that it’s Clarke she’s kissing and not the girl she’s been crushing on for the past three years.

//

Clarke glances up when her phone chimes with a new message, disregarding the homework that she’s been trying to answer for the past hour or so. It’s 12:18 AM and nobody should be up this late, especially not Lexa. But it’s her name that Clarke sees when she swipes the phone open and stares at the message.

Lexa <3 (12:18 AM): Costia kissed me today.

Clarke Griffin (12:22 AM): good for you???

Lexa <3 (12:23 AM): :)

Clarke ignores the stab in her chest and types in another message.

Clarke Griffin (12:25 AM): was it like the movies?

Lexa <3 (12:25 AM): Better. It was perfect.

Clarke closes her eyes, hating the jealously and the anger that courses through her veins. She tells herself that it’s nothing; that it’s simply her being territorial but the thought of Lexa kissing somebody else and being so ridiculously happy about it—well, it strikes a hole into her heart. Clarke Griffin has kissed plenty of people in the past few years, especially during Raven’s awesome house parties and during times where Clarke just desperately wishes to forget about the pain of losing her dad. She’s also kissed Finn Collins last year, when he invited himself into her house and pressed her against the wall, his mouth desperate and hungry on hers.

Somehow, they’re still not dating. Which is weird, because Raven’s already found somebody else to fawn over, a guy named Kyle Wick who works with her at the garage. Maybe Finn’s waiting for something or maybe something’s in the way or maybe it’s because Clarke’s so desperately in love with her best friend that he must see it as well—

No, Clarke tells herself fiercely, gripping her pen. She’s not in love with Lexa. She loves Lexa, like a friend. Like a best friend. Surely, she’s mistaking her platonic feelings for romantic ones. Besides, she and Lexa have it good. If they suddenly decide to become something more, then it’s a risk Clarke’s not willing to take. She doesn’t want to lose the most important person in her life just because she wants to kiss her or anything.

Sighing, Clarke looks back down at her phone, where a new message has popped up.

Lexa <3 (12:31 AM): I should head back to sleep. I’ve been lying awake for three hours now.

Clarke Griffin (12:31 AM): omg are you having sex dreams about your girlfriend?

Lexa <3 (12:32 AM): I hate you.

Lexa <3 (12:32 AM): also, she’s not my girlfriend. Even though we’ve been flirting for the past three years or so.

Lexa <3 (12:33 AM): but I also want her to be, you know?

Lexa <3 (12:33 AM): am I being ridiculously sappy right now?

Clarke Griffin (12:33 AM): Yes.

Clarke Griffin (12:33 AM): But it’s very cute.

Lexa <3 (12:36 AM): Ha ha.

Lexa <3 (12:36 AM): I hate you.

Clarke Griffin (12: 37 AM): No, you don’t.

Lexa <3 (12:37 AM): No, I don’t.

Lexa <3 (12:37 AM): Good night, Clarke.

Clarke Griffin (12:38 AM): Good night, Lexa. Have fun dreaming about your GIRLFRIEND.  

Clarke decides to erase the heart sign next to Lexa’s name, because she doesn’t have the right to love somebody when they obviously love someone else.

//

Three weeks after Lexa and Costia officially become a couple; Finn Collins becomes Clarke’s boyfriend.

The timing is kind of suspicious but Lexa doesn’t think too much about it, mostly because she’s happy with Costia and Clarke is presumably happy with Finn too. But God forbid they double date. They tried it once, and Lexa nearly punched Finn in the face and Clarke looked like she was constipated the whole time. That should’ve meant something but Lexa just passes it off as Clarke being a territorial best friend. Costia has commented on it plenty of times, saying that Lexa and Clarke are practically glued to the hip, which kind of pisses her off because when people think of Lexa Woods, they think of party animal Clarke Griffin.

It’s that train of thought that pushes Lexa into doing something that she’s been scared to do for some time now. Costia’s been sitting in her bed for two hours straight this afternoon, studying about a big test she has on Physics. Lexa is sitting on the chair and watching her study, because there’s no denying that Costia is beautiful and that Lexa is insanely and wildly attracted to her mind and body. It’s too soon to say that they’re in love but they’re getting there. They have only been dating for four weeks.

Costia is reading a paragraph on something about light refraction when Lexa stands from her chair, easily slides in next to her girlfriend and places her hand on her exposed thigh. Costia’s wardrobe mostly consists of floral dresses and skater skirts, which gives Lexa the advantage of cupping a few desirable places. 

Costia groans. “Lex,” she says, shooting her a well-earned glare, “I need to study.”

“Five minute break?” Lexa asks flirtatiously.

Costia seems to consider this, before she pushes the books away from the bed and straddles Lexa, her mouth loving and desperate on Lexa’s lips. Mercutio’s been thankfully running in the lawn all the day, so there isn’t any dog hair stuck on the mattress because Costia gently eases Lexa down on the bed, knees on either side of the girl’s legs as she peppers Lexa with kisses.

“Make it ten and you have yourself a deal,” Costia whispers, sighing happily when Lexa reaches forward and kisses her jaw.

“Make it half an hour and I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow morning,” Lexa murmurs, her hands moving along her girlfriend’s back.

Costia smiles and they make out for an indefinitely long period of time and it’s suddenly getting very hot and Lexa’s sort of gasping with want and fear and Costia is murmuring sweet promises against her lips and touching her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone, fingers running up and down her arms. Lexa shivers and nips lightly at Costia’s ear, earning her a laugh from the other girl.

“You’re playful,” Costia says cheekily.

Lexa smiles, running her fingers over Costia’s long hair. “I just—” she stops, takes a deep breath before carefully pulling the straps of her girlfriend’s dress down, eyes locked firmly with Costia’s. “I just want this.”

Costia inhales sharply, her pupils dilated and her cheeks flushed. Lexa bites her lip before moving her fingers down to the hem of the dress, her palms cupping Costia’s bottom, running her hands underneath the fabric and idly toying with the strap of Costia’s underwear.

“Are you sure?” Costia asks, eyeing her carefully.

Lexa licks her lower lips and opens her mouth. Suddenly, the image of Clarke comes into mind and she almost freezes underneath her girlfriend but she tries desperately to pretend that everything is okay. She doesn’t care if she’s got the memory of Clarke smiling and laughing burned behind her eyelids or the fact that her blood always boils whenever she sees Finn casually running his hands up and down Clarke’s arms, Finn kissing her at the end of class, Finn smiling at her as if she puts the stars in the sky. She doesn’t care if Clarke’s happy with someone else who isn’t her. Because they’ve spent freshmen and sophomore year more apart than together and she’s seen Clarke hanging out with Raven and Octavia and the rest of her large group of friends. But the more she tries to tell herself that she doesn’t care, it just becomes more obvious that she does.

“I’m sure,” Lexa says firmly, her eyes never leaving Costia’s.

“Lexa…”

“Costia,” Lexa says, sitting up and placing her forehead against her girlfriend’s, inhaling her sweet aroma, “I want this. I want you.”

Costia kisses her again, mouth shaking and Lexa spends the remainder of the night holding her as they take a new step forward into their relationship. 

(Lexa thinks about Clarke again but the minute Costia’s fingers grab at her zipper, all thoughts of the blonde get thrown out of the window.)

//

Clarke’s phone vibrates halfway into class and ignoring the pointed glare that Raven shoots her way, she pulls it out of her pocket and hides it underneath the desk, swiping the screen and reading the message Lexa sent her. It’s kind of alarming, because Lexa is not the type of person who texts in the middle of the class. This must be important then.

Lexa (10:36 AM): Can’t meet you for lunch today. Costia’s going to drive me somewhere.

Clarke Griffin (10:36 AM): Boo.

Clarke Griffin (10:37 AM): :(((((

Lexa (10:38 AM): Go cry yourself a river.

Clarke Griffin (10:38 AM): Rude.

Lexa (10:41 AM): Also, I wanted to tell you something today but I guess it has to wait. It’s really important.

Clarke Griffin (10:41 AM): LEXA. U JUST CAN’T DROP A BOMB LIKE THAT. TELL ME.

Clarke Griffin (10:41 AM): and don’t you dare ignore me.

Clarke Griffin (10:42 AM): Lexa Lexa Lexa Lexa Lexa Lexa

Clarke Griffin (10:42 AM): Lexaaa do u want me to spam u??

Clarke Griffin (10:43 AM): Lexaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa teeeeeell meeeeeeeee

Lexa (10:44 AM): I slept with Costia last night.

“FUCK!” Clarke says out loud, slapping a hand into her mouth the minute the words are out. Raven doubles over her table laughing so hard that she can’t stop for several seconds and Mr. Kane is disapprovingly glaring hard at her and the rest of the class are either staring or joining Raven in her joy. Most of them are doing the latter.

“Detention, Ms. Griffin,” Mr. Kane says, shaking his head, “I thought you’d be better than that. Put your phone away.”

Clarke swallows painfully and nods. She glances at the message one more time before shoving the phone into her bag. Her heart is pounding like a persistent drumming inside her chest and she suddenly feels like she can’t breathe anymore. Raven is still giggling next to her but she sounds like she’s standing far away and Clarke almost feels like she’s hearing everything through a long hole. A ringing has started in her left ear and she quickly tries to shake herself from her reverie.

Lexa slept with Costia last night. While Clarke was Skyping with Finn about their next date, Lexa was probably kissing Costia, touching her, moaning her name, loving her with every bit of her heart and the thought leaves a bitter aftertaste in Clarke’s mouth, makes her want to puke out her breakfast.

She passes a note to Raven.

Party this Saturday?

What’s the occasion?  

Need to unwind.

I’ll invite the whole school.

You’re a godsend, Raven Reyes. Thank you <3

Don’t mention it. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Party Animal Griffin.

Clarke smiles, even though some part of her feels like crying.

//

Lincoln looks up from the book he’s reading and regards Lexa quietly.

“What is it?” Lexa asks, writing a complicated equation on the margins of her notebook.

“You just seem—” Lincoln purses his lips, almost as if the answer scares him “—happier.”

Lexa hums, trying not to think about last night, when Costia had kissed her right after the—she still can’t think about it without wanting to smile and if she smiles now, then Lincoln will know that something’s definitely up. So she shrugs and turns to another page of her Math book, fighting the urge to break out into a song.

“It’s nothing,” she says, “I just had a good grade in my History test today.”

“You’re practically radiating with happiness,” Lincoln points out.

“I studied for three weeks just to get a good mark.”

“Your eyes are brighter.”

“It’s the sun.”

“Lexa.” Lincoln suddenly laughs, making Lexa look up and narrow her eyes at him. “What happened? Did Costia propose to you or something? Or did Finn Collins get run over by a truck?”

Lexa’s cheeks redden and she scowls, wanting nothing than to grab her Math book and hit Lincoln’s face with it but she knows that if she does, then his girlfriend Octavia will pop out of nowhere and burn her on the spot. So she resolves to simply rolling her eyes at the excited look he has on his features.

“Fine, something happened,” she mumbled.

“So, Finn really did get hit by a truck?”

“No, you dumbass. Costia and I just—” Okay, she’s grinning now and her cheeks are hurting and God, that night is probably one of the best nights she’s ever going to have. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that all those stupid Taylor Swift songs about love were completely right. She looks at Costia and she just loves her. Costia understands her. She’s not pushy, she doesn’t cry out in frustration or throw things, she doesn’t breach topics which Lexa thinks are uncomfortable—she’s not Clarke and Lexa hasn’t yet figured out if that’s a bad thing or not.

Lincoln fist bumps the air. “Did you do the dirty?” he asks, grinning.

Lexa flushes and flicks a pencil at him. He laughs, looking absolutely delighted. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Lexa hisses but he just smiles lazily and boops her nose.

“You did do the dirty,” he says gleefully.

“Shut up.”

“You’re in love,” he says in a sing-song voice.

Lexa doesn’t bother to deny that because she is in love. She’s always been in love with Costia, she realizes. Ever since they laid eyes on each other during Raven Reyes’s fourteenth birthday party. It must’ve been fate, she thinks to herself because being with Costia, loving her and being loved by her—it feels so desperately and righteously perfect.

“Does Clarke know?” Suddenly, Lincoln’s voice has changed and Lexa tenses.

“Yes,” Lexa says carefully, ignoring the pointed look Lincoln throws her way. “She hasn’t replied to me about it, though. I kind of told her during class because she was threatening to spam me if I didn’t say it.”

“Do you think she’s pissed?”

Lexa frowns, not liking where this conversation is headed. “Why would she be pissed?” God, the blonde already has her popularity, a supposedly great boyfriend and she’s on top of her classes, neck-in-neck with Lexa. If Clarke’s pissed that Lexa has a girlfriend, then that’s just stupidly territorial. Not to mention very, very wrong.

Lincoln doesn’t think it’s a low possibility, however.

“It’s obvious,” he says, rolling his eyes when Lexa just stares him down, “She has feelings for you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

Lincoln wrinkles his nose. “Are you seriously that oblivious not to notice the way she acts around you and Costia? I don’t think I’ve even seen you hang out this week because you’re both so busy with your love lives.”

Lexa shrugs, pushing the thought away. Clarke acts the way she is because she’s weirdly territorial and they’ve been the best of friends since they were four years old. Surely, having Lexa focus all of her attention to somebody who’s not her must’ve been an unpleasant change and she’s just recently starting to act out.

(However, she can’t help but feel a small glimmer of hope at the thought of Clarke being genuinely jealous that Lexa has Costia but she pushes that insignificant feeling away because it’s not appropriate. She and Clarke are just friends.)

“We’re just friends,” she voices this out to Lincoln.

“Right.” Lincoln obviously doesn’t believe her. Instead, he leans forward, smacking her on the forehead. She scowls at him, this time flicking her notebook at his face. He easily dodges. “Look,” he says, reaching down and picking up the fallen stationary, “You and Costia are one of the closest friends I have, okay? You gave me advice with Octavia and I’ll be forever grateful to you for it. But Costia cares about you, Lexa and I care about you too. So, you need to make sure that you’re not hurting anybody’s feelings by lying to yourself.”

Anger surges through her stomach and she grits her teeth before snarling, “I’m not lying to anybody.”

(She is. She’s been lying to herself ever since Clarke’s fifth birthday. Clarke had told her that loving someone and being in love with them are two very different things but Lexa still hasn’t let that information sunk in.)

Lincoln stares at her for a few seconds before nodding. He grabs his book and starts reading again, the conversation almost forgotten. But Lexa’s cheeks are flushed and she’s breathing heavily and her hands are shaking and yet she ignores all of it as she tries to finish her homework.

//

Clarke is really, really drunk.

Raven’s house parties are always generally wild but Clarke has always held her drink, sipping three or four glasses and then dancing to her heart’s content before collapsing on Raven’s bed upstairs. She’s never been black out drunk before but this time, she feels deliriously close to doing so.

She stumbles into a bathroom only to discover that Octavia and Lincoln have already taken residence in it. Lincoln stops sucking on O’s neck and glances at her with puzzlement. Octavia rolls her eyes, tells Clarke to find another place to pass out in and slams the door at her face. The loud noise makes her head spin and she really needs to go home now because she’s really close to puking on the floor and then collapsing on that said puke.

Pulling out her phone, she calls Finn.

“Hey,” he says in lieu of greeting.

“I need you to pick me up,” Clarke says, almost whining.

There’s a slight pause and then rustling in the background. Clarke hears Finn starting his car. “You’re at Raven’s right?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone.

“You know me so well,” Clarke flirts.

He chuckles, the sound low and deep. “I’ll be there in five. Don’t pass out.”

He hangs up and Clarke heads downstairs. The party is still going on, Taylor Swift’s ‘Shake It Off’ blasting through the speakers. Raven is currently making out with Kyle Wick. Wells is dancing with Maya, Harper and Monroe on the dance floor. Jasper and Monty are both drawing dicks on each other’s face and laughing so hard that Monty’s drink comes out of his nose. The rest of the guests are either passed out or just laughing in strange corners of the room. Its 12 AM in the morning so that’s expected. Octavia’s older brother, Bellamy, is standing by the doorway to the living area, shaking his head with disapproval.

Clarke approaches him. “Great party, right?” she drawls.

“College parties are better,” Bellamy says. He’s visiting for the weekend, because he misses Octavia but will probably never say that out loud. He and Clarke are friendly with each other but he once slept with Raven when Finn kissed Clarke last year. That’s an experience that she never wants to think about again.

Clarke hums the song under her breath as she waits for Finn to arrive. Bellamy glances at her.

“How’s Lexa?” he asks.

Clarke shrugs, head pounding as she tries to think. She may or may not have shared a few personal stories about her best friend to Bellamy. It was one time, when they were fighting and she needed someone to vent to. She was drunk and Bellamy was there, offering a listening ear and okay, she realizes now that she might’ve shared some things that she might not remember sharing at all.

“She’s fine,” Clarke answers, her tone neutral. She sways on her feet. “She’s got a girlfriend now.”

“Oh?” Bellamy smirks. “How do you feel about that?”

“Awesome.” Clarke must not sound convincing because Bellamy laughs. “I could practically jump in joy.”

“Griffin, you suck at this.”

Before Clarke can respond, the front door swings open and Finn walks in. He looks handsome as always, dark hair cropped neatly behind his ears. He immediately spots Clarke and Bellamy, walking over towards them with a smile plastered on his face.

“Dude,” he says, clapping Bellamy on the back, “I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“It was unexpected,” Bellamy answers, grinning. “I see that you two have finally worked out the sexual tension.”

“And I’m glad we did.” Finn wraps his arm around Clarke’s waist, pressing a kiss on the side of her head.

“We’re going to head out,” Clarke tells Bellamy, patting his hand, “Good luck with O. She’s making out with Lincoln upstairs. And also, Raven and Wick might actually start having sex on the floor. Please stop them. See you around.”

Bellamy scowls, as if the thought of controlling two girls’ sex lives is too traumatizing. Finn laughs as he practically carries Clarke to the front door, since she’s too drunk to start walking in a straight line. The night is cold so he takes off his jacket and drapes it across her bare shoulders. Clarke’s starting to think that Finn might probably be just one of the greatest boyfriends she’s ever going to have and that she should feel really lucky to have him fawning over her because they’ve spent too long walking around the elephant in the room. She definitely shouldn’t be thinking about Lexa while he’s pressing his lips against hers and making sure she gets inside the car safely.

(It’s kind of hard not to, actually. Lexa’s been on her mind for days now.)

“You’re great,” she says the minute Finn slides into the driver’s seat.

Finn laughs. “I would hope so, since we’re dating.”

Clarke smiles at him, before pulling out her phone and reading through the last message Lexa sent. Her mind is still fuzzy but she can feel the familiar gut-wrenching feeling in her chest as the words stare right back at her. She shouldn’t be so surprised (and heartbroken?) that Lexa and Costia have finally expressed their love in a more intimate level but it still hurts all the same.

She looks over at Finn and tells herself that she’s lucky. Because she’s been chasing after him since they were ten and now, its seven years later and they’re finally together. She’s lucky.

(She doesn’t really believe it.)

They drive through the night and into the silent streets. Finn has thankfully kept the radio turned off since Clarke’s head is still pounding like a sledgehammer but he sings a song under his breath, and Clarke is too tired to tell him that he’s way off the tune. She lets her head rest against the window, staring at the passing lights and trying hard not to picture Lexa and Costia kissing on Lexa’s bed, hands roaming against each other’s skin, Lexa running a path down Costia’s navel, Costia whispering Lexa’s name.

“We’re here,” Finn says, jolting her out of her thoughts.

Home has never looked so pleasing before. Finn gets out of the car first, before hurrying to her side and then letting her lean her weight against him. God, its way too cold and her dress is too short and her heels are too high. She wonders, for the first time since Finn’s picked her up, if she looks as horrible as she feels. She nearly stumbles at the steps but Finn just chuckles and steadies her.

“You’re my superhero,” Clarke mumbles sleepily and Finn smiles.

The door swings open suddenly and Clarke’s brain short-circuits when she sees Lexa standing on the other side, wearing a black tank top and pajama pants. Her curly hair is tied in a high ponytail behind her head and there are glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

“Lexa?” Finn asks, looking confused.

“What are you doing in my house?” Clarke asks, quickly stepping from Finn’s grasp. It’s what she always does when Finn and Lexa are in the same room together.

Lexa frowns. “You texted me,” she says plainly.

“I did?”

The brunette nods and Clarke pulls out her phone and stares at the screen. Oh. Okay. There’s a message sent twenty minutes ago, around the same time Finn picked her up. Come inside? It reads and then there’s Lexa’s usual answer, I’m already on my way.

Finn doesn’t look too happy about the turn of events.

“I’ll take it from here, Collins,” Lexa says, regarding Finn with a tilt of her head.

Finn looks over at Clarke, who nods. Then he sighs and presses a kiss on the corner of her mouth before heading back to his car, shoulders hunched forward. Clarke glances at him once and then turns to look at Lexa, who has her arms crossed and a scowl etched on her face.

She looks really, really pretty.

“So, I dragged my ass out of bed for nothing?” Lexa asks, leaning against the doorway and looking as if she owns the place. “Sorry if I ruined you for fun for the night.” 

Clarke rolls her eyes and tries to side-step the other girl but her heels catch on the wooden flooring and she almost falls flat on her face if Lexa hasn’t already caught on and grabbed her by the arms to steady her.

“Thanks for being over dramatic, Alexandria,” Clarke mutters, stepping out of Lexa’s grip and kicking her heels off. She mostly uses the name for blackmail purposes or when she’s annoyed and not getting her way. Lexa always hates it.

“You reek of alcohol, Griffin,” the brunette snaps at her.

“Yeah, well—what’s new?”

Clarke heads upstairs, noticing that there’s a note taped on her door.

Picked up the night shift at the hospital. There’s food in the fridge. Don’t stay up late. Love you.

                                                                                                                       —Mom

“Do you want to eat?” Lexa asks, appearing next to her.

Clarke shrugs. “I’ll pass,” she mutters. She wobbles as she tries to pull her door to open but her mind must be fuzzier than she first thought because she can’t get it to fucking budge. Lexa stares at the scene for a few seconds before reaching over and pushing it open.

Clarke gives her the stink-eye, to wish Lexa just shrugs.

“Aren’t we a bit too old for sleepovers?” Lexa ponders loudly as Clarke collapses on top of her bed, blissfully getting her legs the rest they need. The brunette walks over to the closet and pulls out a few clothes more suitable to sleeping and throws these said clothes at Clarke, who sits up and glares hotly at her.

“Who died and made you my baby sitter?” Clarke asks.

“Just get changed, Clarke.”

Clarke mumbles a few curses under her breath before she stands up once more, knowing all too well what will happen if she won’t change. Lexa has this habit of doing things for her and that includes helping her change. Somehow, she isn’t ready for that thought, especially when she’s still thinking about Lexa and Costia sleeping together. Her chest tightens at the fact and she grabs her clothes before making her way over to the bathroom.

Thankful that her dress doesn’t get stuck, Clarke manages to complete her task with little accident. She does bang her knee on a table, however, which will probably lead into a purple bruise by next morning. Lexa is sitting by the study table when Clarke comes out looking more comfortable.

“Hey,” Clarke says, because some part of her suddenly aches. She misses Lexa—that part is obvious—but she doesn’t realize just how much that emotion goes even deeper than the occasional I-miss-my-best-friend-and-I-want-to-see-them-again feeling. This actually feels a lot like I-miss-my-best-friend-and-I’ve-forgotten-how-act-around-her feeling.

Lexa looks up at her, eyes trailing down appreciatively down Clarke’s figure. If Clarke isn’t so deliriously drunk right now, she might’ve actually noticed.

“These are good,” Lexa says, gesturing to the sketches, “but I’m not surprised. You’ve always been good with a pencil.”

Clarke blinks at her and then shrugs. “Yeah, well—yeah.” Some part of her practically glows at the praise Lexa always throws her way, remembering how she eagerly she always loved them as a child and a growing teenager.

Lexa crosses her arms and regards her quietly. “I should go now,” she states, her voice hushed, “since you’re already well dressed. There shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve already prepared some water and aspirin for your hangover tomorrow. It’s on the bedside table.”

Lexa makes to move past her but Clarke grabs her hand. She doesn’t even care that she smells like beer and alcohol and that there’s still a bit of make-up underneath her eyes and that she looks as horrible as she feels. Because Lexa doesn’t care about any of that and she’s probably already seen worse.

“We’re not too old for sleepovers,” the blonde says.

Lexa stares at her quietly before giving a jerky nod. Clarke allows herself to smile. As Lexa lies back down on the right side of the bed, where she’s always stayed during sleepovers, Clarke takes the time to wipe off the excess make-up and brush her teeth. When she steps out of the bathroom, Lexa is still awake and staring at the ceiling, her posture straight.

Clarke crawls in next to her after shutting off the lights. For a long period of time, they say nothing, just listening to each other breathe. Then—

“Are you in love with her?” Clarke asks.

Lexa lets out a shaky breath. She seems to have anticipated the question. Clarke expects her to go on a rant about there not being enough time and that they’ve only just started dating; so it comes as more than a shock when Lexa whispers, “Yes.”

Clarke feels her chest twisting. “I’m glad.”

Silence again. Then Lexa shifts, turning to face her. Clarke looks over, eyes wide and heart rapidly thundering inside her chest. Her head pounds.

“Are you in love with him?” Lexa asks.

There’s a pause and Clarke feels suddenly very sober. She twists her hands and tries to steady her breathing. She must’ve taken too long to answer because Lexa is moving to sit up and Clarke’s not even thinking about Finn, not really—when she answers, “Yeah, I am.”

Lexa eases back down on the bed, quietly staring at her. Clarke returns her heavy gaze.

“That’s good,” Lexa says, smiling softly.

Clarke smiles back.

(Neither will know that the other’s hearts are breaking, ever so quietly.)

//

Lexa’s reading her copy of The Great Gatsby when somebody slams a flyer into the table, jolting her out of her thoughts and making her jump. Clarke is standing over her, smiling sweetly and Lexa’s glaring at her before finally snapping her gaze to the flyer.

Her heart lurches.

It’s the flyer for the Homecoming Dance. A masquerade ball. Lexa hasn’t asked Costia yet, even though it’s plainly obvious that they’re going together. And it’s obvious that Finn’s taking Clarke as well so why—?

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Lexa asks, looking up at her.

Clarke rolls her eyes, takes the vacant seat across her. They haven’t talked about what happened two weeks ago, when Clarke was obviously drunk and sober at the same time, when they asked each other if they were in love with the person they were with. Lexa still shakes her head at herself whenever she thinks about it, which is most of the time; because why would Clarke ask a question they both know the answer to?

She’s in love with Costia, has told herself that plenty of times. She’s pretty sure that she even loves her.

Not the way she loves Clarke though.

“Since the dance is coming up,” Clarke says happily, “it can only mean one thing.”

“Your eighteenth birthday is coming up as well,” Lexa answers for her.

Clarke beams. “You know me so well,” she remarks and they look at each other for a few seconds longer than necessary before Clarke changes the subject, “Anyway, what should we do? I’ve already told Octavia and Raven that it’s just going to be two of us, since you know—we’re best friends.”

“How did they take it?” Lexa asks, trying hard not to smile at the fact that yeah, they still are best friends.

Clarke frowns. “Not so well but I’ll make it up to them later.”

Lexa bites her lower lip as she ponders another question. “What about Finn?”

“What about him?”

“Are you planning something with him? A motel getaway? Fun on the beach? Making love like rabbits?” Lexa frowns at the image in her head, mentally slapping herself for ruining the mood, since Clarke is not so subtly glaring at her, cheeks flushed red. “Okay, maybe not that last part but you get the question.”

“Finn has to visit his parents in Seattle,” Clarke answers, “so he won’t be here while we’re having some fun.”

Lexa has to force some unwanted images in her head and frowns. “And you’re okay with that?”

“He already gave me a gift and a two month supply of flowers in my room,” Clarke says lightly, “My whole house is going to smell like lilacs every time you’ll come and visit.”

“What’s his other gift?”

Clarke smiles before pulling at her collar, where a tattoo now suddenly resides. Lexa jolts. She has nothing against tattoos but she’s never thought of Clarke as the type of person to get one. She leans forward, frowning as she reads the words out loud: “MY PRINCESS”. There’s another one just below it, an image of a two-headed deer with flowers surrounding the said animal.

Lexa suddenly feels very, very sick. “Oh, that’s nice,” she says, keeping her voice light.

“I was actually thinking of holding college off for a while,” Clarke says, looking thoughtful, “Get a summer job at a tattoo shop, learn the art of it, make awesome portraits on people’s skin. Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”

“I don’t think your mother will approve,” Lexa says, closing The Great Gatsby and placing it inside her bag.

Clarke wrinkles her nose. “If she thinks that I’m going to Med school then she can go fuck herself,” she mutters. She and her mother have a strained relationship now, from the moment Jake Griffin died. It only got worse when Abby started dating their English teacher, Mr. Kane.

“What happened to Stanford?” Lexa asks. She’s been eyeing the university for a while now and she knows that Clarke has been doing the same. They both sent out their applications simultaneously and what’s left is just a waiting game. Lexa’s heart drops to her stomach at the thought of not going to college with Clarke. They’ve been so tied up in each other’s lives that it almost doesn’t feel right if they’re not together. She shudders at the thought.

Clarke shrugs. “It’s still on the table,” she says, “Don’t worry about it.”

Lexa frowns but drops the subject immediately. “Anyway, what’s going to happen on your birthday?” she asks.

The blonde grins. “I’m thinking big,” she says.

Oh no, Lexa thinks. This is going to spell trouble.

//

Spending your eighteenth birthday at a bar isn’t a totally bad idea. Especially since she’s asked Monty to make her two fake ID’s, specifically for her and Lexa. She knows that they’re foolproof, because everything that Monty has done always exceeds expectations. She’s turning eighteen and she expects the whole day to be a complete blast.

Thankfully, her birthday falls on a Saturday, which means that any hangovers will be dealt with accordingly the next day. When she wakes up in the morning with Romeo carefully tucked in under her arm, she immediately grabs her phone to check in with her notifications. Lexa is the first one to greet her. At exactly midnight, she’s sent a Snapchat of her and Mercutio saying happy birthday in her room, grinning so broadly that Clarke’s chest constricts at the sight. The next is Raven and Octavia, who have compiled an embarrassing amount of photos and posted it on Facebook, with the caption: “Party animal Clarke Griffin is 18 folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” The rest of her friends have greeted her on her wall, with the usual pictures and Instragram posts, all showing her brightest moments. Her heart swells.

Finn sent her a text message at around 2 AM.

Finn <3 (2:03 AM): Happy birthday, Clarke!! Hope you have a great day. Sorry I can’t be there. Just want you know that I miss you so much right now! Love you :)))

Clarke <3 (7:34 AM): just woke up and read this omg. Thank you babe!! Hope you’re having fun in Seattle. Say hi to your parents for me xoxo

She puts down her phone and heads to the bathroom, showering quickly. She’s so excited to get started that she nearly slips on the way out. Thankfully, she rights herself because there’s no way in hell she’s going to get a concussion on her birthday.

When she heads downstairs, she spots her mom by the counter, reading the paper and drinking coffee. There’s a stack of pancakes on the table and Clarke slides in and grabs a plate.

Her mom looks up, smiling. “Happy birthday,” she greets.

Clarke returns the smile, even though some part of her brain whispers that her father should be there too. She starts attacking her pancakes but pauses when she notices the small box in the middle of the counter. It has her name written on it.

“What’s that?” she asks.

Her mom puts down the paper and retrieves the box, handing it over to her. “That’s your dad’s gift for you,” she explains, her face falling slightly, “He’s—he was saving up for it. He told me that if, under any circumstances; he wasn’t there on your eighteenth birthday that I had to make sure that you got this.”

Clarke feels her heart pounding in her ears as she idly touches the box. When she shakes it, she can hear something small jiggling inside. Oh Dad, she thinks to herself, blinking back tears. He always knew what to do. She looks back at her mom who nods, gesturing for her to open it. She does, ripping the paper and then unlocking the lid. When she looks inside, her breath catches in her throat.

It’s the keys to her new car.

“The rest of your gift is waiting outside,” her mom tells her, smiling softly.

Clarke gives a jerky nod. Then she surprises herself by walking around the counter and giving her mom a fierce hug. They haven’t embraced in a while. Especially since Clarke’s been so angry for the past two years. Her mom presses a kiss to the side of her head before Clarke steps back, blinking back the tears her father’s memory has brought along.

//

Lexa uneasily wavers in front of the door, her foot tapping lightly against the wooden flooring. She’s been standing there for a while now, more than five minutes and to say she’s nervous is an understatement. She has always been carefully cautious about Clarke’s birthday, since she’s always intent on getting her the perfect gift. And Clarke is eighteen years old. She’s nearly an adult now, so this day has to be perfect.

Running her fingers through her hair for the fifth time, she’s about to go and knock when her phone chimes and a message pops out. She pulls the device out and reads:

Clarke “badass motherfucker” Griffin (8:02 AM): Come inside?

Commander Lexa Woods (8:03 AM): I’m already on my way.

Lexa has to wonder why on earth she agreed to let Clarke change their contact names for the whole week. It’s honestly ridiculous but makes her smile at the same time. Well, it is Clarke’s special day. She knocks on the door and a few seconds later, the blonde opens it, already dressed and ready. Lexa is impressed. Usually, on weekends, the girl just stays in bed and watches Netflix.

“There’s my Commander,” Clarke comments offhandedly as Lexa steps inside.

“Please don’t do say that,” Lexa says, groaning.

“Commander, Commander, Commander,” Clarke continues, laughing when Lexa tries to throw her bag at her. The nickname came from Octavia. It had been during Gym class last week and after watching Lexa do perfect curl-ups for the past twenty minutes, Lincoln’s obnoxiously loud girlfriend remarked, “Clarke, I didn’t know your best friend was a Commander.”

The nickname stuck. And now, both Lincoln and Clarke are using it annoy the hell out of her.

“So, what do you have planned?” Lexa asks.

“Ah.” Clarke shakes her head, mouth curling at the side. “My gift first.”

“Well, aren’t you modest,” Lexa mutters sarcastically. She shifts her weight before swinging her bag forward and pulling out two shirts from it. She honestly thinks it’s stupid but knowing Clarke, the other girl will probably appreciate it. Probably. She notices Clarke’s eyes widening when she throws the first shirt at her.

“Lexa…” Clarke is speechless. There are words printed on the back of shirt, bold and eye-catching. I’m Clarke “Badass Motherfucker” Griffin. Lexa had thought it’d be funny and hilarious but judging by the way Clarke has paled considerably, she’s suddenly not so sure.

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t like it,” Lexa is quick to say, frowning when Clarke shakes her head.

“No, no, no,” the golden-haired mumbles, still staring at the shirt like it’s one of the eight wonders of the world, “God, its perfect. How the hell are you so perfect?”

Lexa flushes. Good. Clarke likes her gift. She can breathe a lot easier now.

“It was an idea I got from the internet,” she admits and then Clarke looks at her and suddenly, Lexa is transported to Clarke’s fifth birthday. (She’s always going to think of it as one of the most important turning points of her life.) She remembers Clarke receiving Romeo, Clarke grinning so widely that it must’ve hurt her cheeks, Clarke hugging the life out of her, Clarke staring at her with that strange look in her eyes—one that was partly hopeful and partly sad.

Lexa sees that same look right now and to be perfectly honest, it scares her.

“Do you want to see my shirt?” Lexa asks, holding hers out. Clarke stares at it for a few seconds before she bursts out laughing. Because written on the back of it are the words: If lost, please return to Clarke “Badass Motherfucker” Griffin.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Clarke wonders out loud and they both freeze.

Lexa thinks for a few seconds. “I don’t think you have,” she says truthfully. Sure, they’ve expressed how completely and utterly lucky they are to have each other but there has not been one single occasion where they just stopped and said I love you. They’ve expressed it better in actions and meaningful looks and light gestures but never in words spoken out loud.

Clarke must realize this too because she shakes her head and says, “Well, we’ve gone through fourteen years without saying it so I might as well start now. I love you, Lexa Woods.”

Lexa’s chest constricts and her hands shake and her breath catches in her throat and Clarke is staring at her, waiting for her to say it back and she doesn’t think she can do it, not without meaning it with every bit of her heart and soul. Because it’s obvious that Clarke only said it out of necessity, that she must mean it in platonic ways and that she will always forever look at Lexa as her best friend and nothing more; but Lexa can’t bear to say it like that, not without thinking about the difference between loving someone and being in love with them. The lines are starting to blur all over again.

She thinks of Costia and briefly closes her eyes.

“Likewise, Clarke Griffin,” she says instead, forcing a smile.

She turns away so fast she doesn’t see the hurt flash across Clarke’s features.

//

Abby takes a photo of Clarke and Lexa standing in front of Clarke’s silver Civic, with their backs turned to the cameras so that the words printed there are visible. Clarke still thinks the shirts are the best things in the universe, well after Lexa Woods, anyways; and she uploads the photo into the Instagram as soon as she gets the right filters. Meanwhile, Lexa is currently admiring the car, walking around it and patting the seats and testing the wheel and generally being a huge nerd.

Clarke’s phone chimes with a few notifications and she laughs when she spots that she already has six likes in a matter of seconds. Her caption reads: “three of the best gifts that I have received today, including you @lexawoods.” Raven and Octavia have started a conversation on the photo, which will of course be interesting. Clarke skims through the comments, feeling a variety of different emotions once she lets the words sink in.

@rayrayreyes:if i didn’t know you so well, Griffin, i would’ve said that you and lexa look like you’re dating @partyanimalGriffin @lexawoods

@rayrayreyes:but you’re obviously not BECAUSE YOU’RE DATING MY BOY FINN

@thebetterblake:sshhhh babe past is past @rayrayreyes

@thebetterblake:also where can i buy a shirt like that for me and lincoln??? @partyanimalGriffin

@rayrayreyes:ugh dont be gross O @thebetterblake

@partyanimalGriffin: @rayrayreyes pfft me and lexa are obviously just friends and also @thebetterblake you should ask lexa where she got the shirts. i still think they’re the best things in the world.

@LincolnGrounderPounder: @partyanimalGriffin @thebetterblake I want one.

@gogglesboy:same

@rayrayreyes:shut up jasper @gogglesboy

“Clarke, your car’s not going to drive itself,” Lexa says, appearing over her shoulder. She smiles when she sees the photo.

Clarke pockets her phone and turns to the vehicle, smiling fondly at it. This is her father’s gift and she’s going to make sure that it’ll stay pristine clean. She tilts her head at her best friend.

“Clarke’s eighteenth birthday extravaganza shall now officially commence,” she declares.

//

Their first stop is at the nearest beach. Thankfully, Lexa has come prepared. Knowing Clarke, this birthday extravaganza of hers is probably going to be completely exhausting so she’s brought along a few bottles of water and extra clothes with a pair of Flip Flops. Clarke laughs when she sees Lexa applying some sun block.

“God, you’re such a control dork,” she says.

“You can never be too prepared,” Lexa states, nearly throwing the bottle at her best friend, who makes a face and then rolls her eyes.

They clamber out of the car and Clarke immediately strips down, throwing off her jeans and then tugging on some shorts while simultaneously pulling off her birthday shirt. Lexa stares at her exposed skin, trying hard not to imagine what she’d do, if she isn’t such a coward. Clarke carefully places her birthday shirt into her bag and then yells at Lexa to hurry up.

Lexa snaps out of her daze and approaches the water. The beach is thankfully empty and Clarke’s already knee deep in. She looks absolutely stunning, the sun glaring down at her from the skies, her golden hair cascading down her back in waves. Lexa allows herself a few selfish moments to soak this picture in and for once, her mind is at peace. She’s not thinking about Costia or Finn; she’s simply letting herself enjoy the pleasure of admiring her best friend and thanking her lucky stars for having the chance of meeting her. She continues to watch, even as she changes out of regular clothes.

Clarke turns towards her then, still smiling. “Come on,” she says, gesturing to the water.

“Are you serious?” Lexa asks.

“I am very serious.”

“There’s sand all over the place.”

“Uhm, that’s kind of obvious.”

Lexa shakes her head and then puts down all of her things. When her toes first touch the water, she sucks in a deep breath, not realizing how perfectly cold it is. Clarke is watching her out of the corner of her eye and that makes her flush, gives her the impression that she’s being carefully scrutinized.

“Okay, I’m here,” she tells Clarke, still watching her toes as they wiggle through the sand. She continues to walk forward until she’s knee deep as well.

“Good.” All of a sudden, Clarke’s rushing forward, golden hair flying behind her and Lexa looks up a moment too late because the blonde tackles her in a fierce hug, making them both tumble backwards towards the sand and water. Lexa gasps when Clarke’s full weight hits her and soon, they’re falling against each other, the water enveloping them both in a cold embrace. Lexa’s teeth chatter as she watches Clarke laughing against her chest.

Lexa sits up in a sitting position, scowling at how utterly wet they are.

(There’s got to be a sexual innuendo somewhere in that sentence.)

“What the hell was that for?” she demands.

Clarke is still hugging her waist, giggling uncontrollably. “It was fun,” she says cheekily, resting her chin against the brunette’s stomach.

Lexa feels herself softening. She’s always soft for Clarke.

Their clothes are drenched and if they stay that for a few minutes longer, then sun burn is definitely not out of the equation but Clarke’s still holding her, staring at her under her long eyelashes and Lexa is staring back to her heart’s content because they’re not talking and they’re not moving and there’s nobody around to ruin this perfectly good moment. She watches as Clarke’s eyes flutter close and something in her chest twists when the blonde leans forward slightly, unconsciously licking her lips and they’re breathing in each other’s scent and Lexa’s mind is clear—her purpose is even clearer—when she also leans forward.

A huge wave suddenly crashes into them, knocking Clarke’s forehead against Lexa’s chin. Both girls groan in pain and Lexa scrambles up to her feet, her cheeks flaring as she pulls Clarke along as well. They’re both dripping wet and Lexa makes a sound of disapproval when she feels sand in some nether regions.

“Sorry,” Clarke says and Lexa has no idea which part she is saying sorry for.

She nods anyway.

(She tries—God, she tries—she tries not to think about how awfully close they were to making a big mistake.)

(Later, she finds herself wishing she had done it sooner.)

//

Clarke kind of wants to change her name and move to Canada.

The almost-kiss was definitely not part of her agenda but Lexa looked so beautiful, her face radiant, green eyes bright and even though she was wearing a scowl, Clarke couldn’t blame herself for wanting to kiss her. Her best friend is probably one of the most beautiful she has ever met; body, mind and soul and Clarke wouldn’t have minded kissing her for the rest of her life.

Okay. Something’s definitely up. She should not be thinking such thoughts. She has a boyfriend, for God’s sake and Lexa has a girlfriend too. They can’t fool around—it’ll ruin relationships and destroy the connection that they have. Clarke cannot bear to lose the fourteen-year-old friendship that they have. She cherishes it more than anything.

So they stay in the beach for any or more, soaking up the sun and building sandcastles and updating their Instagram and Twitter posts. Raven and Octavia have dutifully kept up with them, commenting sarcastically and generally being pain the asses but it’s clear that they hate not being part of Clarke’s special day. It especially shows on Octavia’s Twitter account:

@thebetterblake:do you ever just want to buy a fuckload of ice cream and watch sappy RomComs because your gal pal doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday with you?? @partyanimalGriffin @rayrayreyes

Raven has posted a picture of herself sitting in the living room with a tub of Rocky Road, pouting. The caption reads: “because @partyanimalGriffin doesn’t want to celebrate her 18^th with me, I’m just going to cry into the ice cream which I have conveniently bought for myself #bitter”

@thebetterblake: don’t move i’m coming over @rayrayreyes

@rayrayreyes:please bring more ice cream I might’ve ate them all @thebetterblake

“Have I ever told you how dramatic Raven and Octavia are?” Clarke asks. Lexa is the one driving this time, which should be unsettling since the car is just newly bought but Lexa drives safely and carefully, keeping her eyes on the road and following the rules.

Lexa barely glances at her. “Yes, plenty of times.”

“Well, now they’re buying ice cream and moping over the fact that I didn’t invite them,” Clarke says, grinning broadly when Lexa snorts.

“Now that you mention it, I’m kind of craving some ice cream,” Lexa remarks offhandedly.

Clarke’s grin widens. “Thought you’d never ask.”

After some helpful directions from Siri, they find an ice cream shop in the north side of town. It’s close to a forest so when they scramble out of the car and take a deep breath, they can smell the pine trees from a considerable amount of distance away. Lexa shakes her still dripping hair dry while Clarke takes a picture of the scenery.

“I don’t think you should update your location every time we move, Clarke,” Lexa says, tying her long curly hair into a ponytail.

“Elaborate,” Clarke says, watching a particular water drop running on the side of Lexa’s jaw. She shakes her head and then turns to the ice cream shop, where a large sign says: Miller’s Cream.

“Because Raven and Octavia can track you down and crash the party,” Lexa answers, snorting when she reads the sign. “You know, there’s got to be a gay joke in there.”

Clarke laughs and then tugs Lexa inside, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the front door. When they enter, it’s thankfully air-conditioned and the place is empty except for a few girls in the corner, giggling as they finish off their individual cups of ice cream. The booths are painted blue and the menus show assorted plates of foods, chips and obviously, ice cream. Clarke’s mouth drops open slightly. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen something so beautiful.

Lexa closes her mouth for her, smirking slightly. “Order away, birthday girl,” she says before choosing a booth close to an open window.

Clarke follows, sitting across her best friend and picking up the menu. She skims through the orders for a while, ignoring the fact that Lexa is currently texting Costia. Her gut twists painfully and she ignores that too.

“You know what,” she says, dropping the menu and gesturing at the waiter, who looks to be about their age with dark skin and a small scuffle of a beard, “I’m just going to order the biggest thing they have here, with fries of course.”

Lexa nearly drops her phone. “And who’s going to finish all of that?” she asks, when she realizes that the biggest thing the shop has is five liters of ice cream, littered with every kind of sprinkles, banana and other kinds of stuff slammed together in a large bowl.

Clarke smirks. “You and I, of course,” she says and she tells this to the waiter, whose name is Nathan, as stated in the name tag.

As they wait for their order, Clarke checks her phone. She lights up when she realizes that Finn has texted her:

Finn <3 (11:09 AM): how’s your day going so far?

Clarke <3 (11:19 AM): awesome. We’re having ice cream already.

Finn <3 (11:21 AM): glad to hear it! I hope you’re still having fun :))

Clarke <3 (11:21 AM): I always have fun whenever Lexa is around.

She winces when she presses send. She probably shouldn’t have said that, knowing all too well about how jealous Finn can get whenever the two girls hang out. Finn doesn’t respond so she glances over at Lexa, who is still on her phone, a small crinkle appearing between her eyebrows. She looks, as she always does, adorable.

“Trouble in paradise?” she finds herself asking, hating the way how bitter she sounds.

Lexa looks up, eyebrows raised. When Clarke gestures to the phone, the brunette exhales a laugh and shakes her head. “It’s nothing,” she says, “Costia’s just checking up on me.”

“Oh.” Clarke bites down the urge to say something she knows she’ll regret later on. She’s always held some sort of animosity towards Costia, not because she’s a bitch or anything (which she isn’t—quite the opposite, actually) but because she always makes Lexa smile. She has tried everything to make sure that these said feelings go away but then Lexa was suddenly spending less time with her and more time with Costia and it kind of makes her realize that she’s not on the top of Lexa’s list anymore.

Even though she has Finn, Clarke will always put Lexa first.

Her thoughts move to the upcoming dance. Finn has already asked her to go with him and of course she said yes because they are, after all, dating. Lexa is taking Costia as well and their dresses are ready and the dance is next week and the more Clarke thinks about it, the more she realizes how much she doesn’t want to go.

Yeah, something’s definitely wrong. It’s like somebody’s reached inside her and wrung all of her insides out, making her think that right is wrong while wrong is definitely right and that she doesn’t love Finn because she definitely loves Lexa.

Fuck, she thinks, shaking her head. This is not the first time such thoughts have passed through her head but this is the first where she doesn’t immediately force it out of her system. Instead, she toys with it, turning it over and over again until she’s practically memorized it to the bones. She loves Lexa Woods the way she should love Finn Collins.

Clarke looks up at her best friend, who is now studying the menu. She stares at her unruly brown hair, always frizzy and messy and generally in the way of everything. She stares at the forest green eyes, sometimes dark and passionate with anger, sometimes soft and loving with emotion. She stares at the soft plump lips, noticing the small mole on the left side and then—bam—Clarke is suddenly hit with the desperate, hungry urge to reach forward and kiss her best friend right there and then.

Clarke closes her eyes. No, she loves Lexa. As a friend. As a best friend. As the bests of friends. She doesn’t love her the way she wants to love Finn. She doesn’t love her the way Lexa loves Costia. She doesn’t—

Their orders arrive and both of their eyes widen once faced with the monstrosity Clarke has ordered on a whim. Nathan hands them both spoons and passes the plate of chips around before walking away with a large smirk on his face. Clarke notices that her spoon is slightly shaking.

“I hate you,” Lexa says, staring at the dripping ice cream.

“No, you don’t,” Clarke is quick to respond.

“No.” Lexa sighs, already digging in, “I don’t.”

Clarke takes a picture first before she takes her first bite. Her eyes flutter close in pleasure when the cold hits her tongue. She chews on the banana clippings and the sprinkles and the chocolate chips while simultaneously tasting the whipped cream on top. The ice cream is soft and gooey, just the way she likes it and Lexa is sort of half-laughing, half-giggling when Clarke complains of brain freeze.

“You have something on your face,” Lexa says, pointing at her cheeks. “Actually, you have a lot of it.”

“Please tell me it’s not paint,” Clarke mumbles, referring to their first meeting.

Lexa seems to understand because she pulls a hanky from her pocket and leans across the table to wipe off the offending cream from Clarke’s face. The blonde tenses but Lexa continues to laughs as she carefully minds Clarke’s make-up and then leans back, smiling proudly.

Clarke is suddenly hit with the image of four-year-old Lexa Woods, unruly brown hair tied in a ponytail; forest green eyes alight with mischief as her mouth curls at the sight of Clarke Griffin’s four-year-old idiocy, washing the paint off the blonde’s cheeks with her hanky. Clarke remembers the sunlight streaming through the window, the TV playing in the background, her father’s voice talking to Gustus. Clarke remembers that feeling once more—the feeling of completely being in awe and wonder of Lexa—washing over her entire body and the tips of her fingers tingle and her chest tightens and oh—she’s always been in love with her best friend. Since the moment they met—she’s always been completely and madly in love with her.

(This time, she understands the difference, even though it’s fourteen years too late.)

//

Lexa’s stomach is so close to bursting that when she stands, she nearly pukes on the floor. Thankfully, Clarke is there to grab onto her hand, steadying her carefully. They’ve barely finished the ice cream and the rest of it is currently dripping on the table but Clarke just waves her hand and shakes her head when Lexa complains of how much that thing cost.  

“It’s my birthday,” Clarke says cheekily, “I can do whatever I want and buy whatever I want without any repercussions from my mother. Because it’s my birthday. Because I’m eighteen and almost a legal adult. Also, it’s my birthday. Have I said that already?”

Lexa laughs, shaking her head as they both head out of the shop. Clarke gets into the driver seat and Lexa follows afterwards. She pulls out her phone when it buzzes, smiling when she sees that it’s Costia.

Costia <3 (12:14 PM): I’m watching The Notebook right now and I need someone to cuddle with :(((

Lexa The Bae (12:15 PM): you’re just going to have to wait :P

Costia <3 (12:15 PM): I miss you

Lexa The Bae (12:16 PM): I miss you too :)

Lexa looks over at Clarke, who is staring at the phone with a mixture of apprehension and doubt.

“You okay there, birthday girl?” Lexa asks, her smile fading.

Clarke jolts suddenly and the grin that blossoms her face doesn’t exactly reach her eyes. Lexa is about to ask her what’s wrong when Clarke shakes her head and mutters something about catching a movie.

“I hear that Age of Ultron is already showing,” Clarke comments offhandedly, “Natasha and Bruce are a thing.”

Lexa shakes her head. “Please tell me you’re joking,” she says, her initial worries getting thrown out the window. She pockets her phone and reaches forward to turn the radio on. Clarke smiles cheekily at her as she starts the Civic, flipping on some sunglasses.

“I asked Raven about it and she proceeded to tell me the whole thing,” the blonde continues to talk as she drives the car out of the parking lot, glancing at Lexa once before moving back into the road, “Like the entire fucking thing. With a lot of spoilers. You know who’s going to die? That guy with—”

“No.” Lexa slaps a hand across Clarke’s mouth, promptly shutting the other girl up. Clarke’s eyes widen as she stares at her, which is probably a bad thing because Clarke’s the designated driver and all but Lexa is silently fuming. She hates spoilers. “Raven loves you so much that she spoils movies for you. How convenient. At least I don’t do that. I’m not that cruel.”

She peels her hand away and Clarke stares at her for a few more seconds before whipping her attention back to the road. Lexa notices that her knuckles have gone white on the wheel.

“Yeah,” Clarke mumbles, sounding dazed, “You’re not cruel.”

“Thank you.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything else after that.

They end up watching the movie after all and Lexa’s kind of glaring at the screen the whole time, because Natasha Romanoff and Bruce Banner don’t have any levels of chemistry at all. Clarke has her legs across Lexa’s lap since the theatre is half empty and there are plenty of available chairs around. The bag of popcorn is lying haphazardly against Lexa’s arm and Clarke spends half of the time alternating between her phone and the movie up ahead.

“He’s not dead,” Lexa says out loud.

“Who knows?” Clarke asks, staring at her.

Lexa scowls, choosing to remain quiet until the movie ends. Clarke doesn’t move her feet from Lexa’s lap and they wait until the end of the credits, but nothing comes out. Rolling her eyes, Lexa mutters something about Joss Whedon ruining the beauty of Marvel movies before trying to move Clarke’s ankles. The blonde just sighs dramatically and lets her head drop against the cushion of her seat, smirking broadly at her best friend.

“Are we just going to stay here until the movie starts all over again?” Lexa questions, with a hint of exasperation.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Clarke asks, still not budging from her place.

Lexa stops struggling and rest her hands against Clarke’s knees, wearing a scowl on her face. They remain there, soaking in the quiet silence until Lexa says, with a clipped tone, “Are we seriously doing this?”

“Is it so wrong to want to just stay here and relax for a few minutes?”

“Well, it is your birthday…”

“Give me your hand.”

Blinking in surprise, Lexa extends her right hand. Clarke grabs it immediately, not quite meeting Lexa’s gaze as she idly plays with the brunette’s fingers. It takes several seconds but eventually, Lexa relaxes. She leans back against her seat and watches as Clarke draws patterns against her skin. It’s dark in the theatre and incredibly cold and there are still people moving around and taking seats and talking loudly with their friends but somehow, that all fades away until it’s only just the two of them left. Lexa stares in wonder as Clarke continues to play with her hand, skin running against skin, their palms softly grazing against each other and Lexa is a ninety-nine percent sure that Clarke is going to say something important because she has this look in her face that just speaks thousands. If only Lexa understood.

“Lexa,” Clarke says slowly, meeting her gaze. Her eyes are so blue and it never fails to take Lexa’s breath away.

“Clarke,” Lexa says in return, her voice hushed as well.

“I—” Clarke closes her mouth, looks absolutely furious at herself for a several long seconds before she lets out another dragging sigh and shakes her head. “Thank you,” is what comes out instead. 

Lexa is ninety-nine percent sure that that is not what Clarke meant to say but she’s never been the type of person to push people into corners and demand an explanation. She is patient, she lets others decide for themselves and soon, she’ll come to realize that this will become a mistake instead of an asset.

“You’re welcome,” Lexa says, smiling softly, “I’m glad you’re still enjoying your birthday.”

The smile that Lexa receives is tight and full of many unsaid things but Lexa turns her head away, because she knows that Clarke will say those things soon. They have the promise of forever, after all.

//

Clarke wishes that she can reverse time; make use of the years that have passed by, grab at the first opportunity presented to her, tell Lexa that oh dear God—she loves her, she’s in love with her but she wonders what would’ve happened instead, if they did get together. Clarke pushes and Lexa pulls. They know how to tear each other down just as quickly as they know how to bring each other back up again. They know each other’s everything—Clarke knows of Lexa’s fear of failure, Lexa knows of the things that keep Clarke up at night, Clarke knows of the worry lines that Lexa gets whenever she thinks of the future, Lexa knows of the freckles that dot the back of Clarke’s back, almost akin to the stars in the night sky. They’re so stupidly perfect for each other and Clarke doesn’t know why it has taken years for her to realize this.

Nothing has changed. Clarke doesn’t grow shy or self-conscious. She doesn’t stumble over words and stare too long. Instead, everything seems like before—except for the fact that Clarke knows that she has every chance to either ruin this or make it the best thing to have ever happened between them. But Clarke has Finn and Lexa has Costia and it’s a story full of missed chances and inappropriately timed realizations and Clarke wants to reverse time so badly.

They walk out of the theatre with their hands linked in between them. She loves the fact that everybody gawks at their shirt and she has to remind herself over and over again just how lucky she is to have Lexa.

“Wait,” Clarke calls out, stopping by a small thrift store. It’s three in the afternoon and the day is still so righteously young.

Lexa stops immediately and moves to Clarke’s side, still not letting go of their hands.

“Raven and Octavia are going to be so jealous,” Clarke remarks.

“Why so?” Lexa tilts her head to the side, her hair falling over her shoulder and Clarke has this insane desire to kiss her and it’d be romantic, since it’s on her birthday and they’ve just finished watching a movie and the sun is in Clarke’s eyes but Lexa just looks so beautiful.

Clarke shakes her head. “Because we’re going to buy something to make this day a hundred times more awesome.”

“Isn’t it awesome enough already?” Lexa drawls with a teasing smirk and Clarke’s urge to kiss her just intensifies.

She saves herself by walking inside the store first and Lexa soon follows afterwards. Everything is slightly cramped, with shelves leaning haphazardly to the side and towering high above the ceiling. Racks of clothes surround the area and then there are tables full of accessories and used belongings and other stuff that Clarke can’t find the name to. She easily moves along the rows of clothing and heads over to the tables. Lexa follows. She always does.

“What do you have in mind?” Lexa eyes the accessories lying in front of her and reaches out to touch a necklace with a tree stamped on it.

“Something to remember me by,” Clarke answers with a serious face, looking back at Lexa, who raises her eyebrow in question. “You know, just in case you miss me or something or if I don’t get accepted into Stanford. Which is a high possibility, considering that I want to own a tattoo shop.”

“Clarke,” Lexa practically growls and Clarke smirks.

“Kidding,” she says, rolling her eyes when Lexa mimes hitting her with a hardbound book.

They look around for a few more minutes and the guy at the counter glances up and then lazily before returning back to his phone. Clarke doesn’t exactly know what she’s searching for but it has to call out to her, especially since she wants to give Lexa something that will make this day last.

Her eyes fall on two small plush teddy bears lying side by side. They look dirty, with dust and smudge marks peppered all over the brown fur and white shirts. Black buttons and very shaky smiles have been sewed onto the face and Clarke instantly clicks with it. She’s always thanked Lexa for giving her Romeo and now she wants to give her something else too. A teddy bear. A remembrance. Just something.

“Lexa,” Clarke calls out, grabbing the teddy bears. Perfect.

Lexa wanders next to her and she smiles as she takes the second stuffed toy.

“Good?” Clarke asks, staring straight into Lexa’s forest green eyes.

The brunette’s smile widens. “It’s missing something,” she says and then reaches into her back pocket (always prepared, Clarke thinks to herself) to pull out a black marker. She scribbles some words into the white shirt of her teddy bear and then steps back, looking proud of herself.

“Okay, now we’re definitely buying them,” Clarke mutters as she takes a look. Her breath catches and tears spring into her eyes without permission. Because Lexa has written the words: I love you Clarke Griffin in her simple, always neat handwriting and the brunette is giving her this partly hopeful and partly anxious look in her eyes, her smile shaky against her lips.

Clarke shakes her head, grabs the marker and then writes on her own teddy bear: I love you Lexa Woods.

“Now it’s perfect,” Lexa declares.

The guy at the counter doesn’t even blink when he accepts their payment and places the bears into a plastic bag, waving them off as he returns to his phone. Clarke shares a look with Lexa, who grins at her.

(Clarke’s thinking of selling her own kidneys online, just to buy a time machine in order to fix the mess she’s in.)

//

Lexa isn’t entirely surprised when Clarke drags her into a bar when the clock hits 7 PM. They spent the prior hours in a nearby park, Clarke drawing in her sketchpad with Lexa finishing a book that she’s been reading for the past few days or so. Leaning against each other and enjoying the last remaining rays of the sun is probably one of the many memories that Lexa will always cherish when it comes to her best friend. 

Clarke produces two fake ID’s from her bag when they stop in front of a bar called The Ark. It’s pulsing with energy, lights blaring from all corners and music shaking the very pavement. A long line is standing in front of the double doors and Lexa can see all types of people waiting to get in. It seems like The Ark is a very famous bar to party in, which shouldn’t be surprising, because Clarke never settles for less.

“So, are we going to be black out drunk before the night ends?” Lexa asks, taking her fake ID and admiring Monty Green’s handiwork.

“That’s the plan,” Clarke says, grinning. “But don’t worry, I told Raven to come as soon as possible if I don’t text her at around midnight. Who knows? I might be dead in some dark, dingy alley by then.” 

A wave of fierce protectiveness washes over Lexa at the image in her head and she says, without thinking too much about it, “I’m not going to let that happen.”

Clarke’s movement slow down drastically as she looks up at Lexa, blue eyes shining under the orange streetlights above them. There seems to be a raw, genuine emotion written across the expanse of her features; full of unabashed relief, joy, hope and something else—something Lexa always sees but can never put her finger into. Clarke stares at her for a few more seconds, never blinking, never looking away before the blonde manages to snap out of her daze. She clears her throat, shakes her head slightly and then says, with a tight smile, “Knew I could always count on you.”

Lexa’s breath stutters as she nods. “Yeah, anytime.”

They head out of the car and into the bar, not bothering to change out of their jeans and matching shirts. Lexa doesn’t mind since she knows that Clarke has already attached herself to the piece of clothing. Also, it’ll be nice—to celebrate her birthday together with a bang. It takes quite a while, since the line is pretty long but once the clock strikes eight, they finally get in without much trouble with their ID’s.

Inside, the dance floor dominates the ground floor and even though it’s still pretty early, the place is already packed with people dancing around, grinding against each other, laughing and drinking and having a good time. The counter is filled with more guests as well, talking to strangers and exchanging numbers and leaning in for make-out sessions. The music is loud—too loud for Lexa’s opinion—and she’s pretty sure that the ground underneath her feet is shaking. The lights are dazzling as well, blinding her several times. She bumps into a lot of waitresses carrying trays of drinks, blushing madly at how little clothing they have on.

Clarke laughs next to her, shaking her head in endearment as she intertwines their fingers together.

“Come on.” She has to yell to be overhead. “Let’s get black out drunk.”

//

They spend four hours screaming their throats sore and dancing to the beat of the music, bumping elbows and colliding knees with random strangers. They keep close to each other, however and whenever Clarke’s eyes fall on Lexa’s unruly curls and incredibly awkward dance moves, her heart just soars. The booze and alcohol is getting in her system and every guy that she’s danced with has always tried to get into her personal space, mouth hungry and desperate. She always pushes them off.

I have a boyfriend, she tries to tell herself but then her eyes always move to Lexa, who’s laughing in some corner and she’s suddenly sure that Finn isn’t the only reason.

She moves to the counter and orders five more shots. Lexa appears next to her, still a giggling mess.

“We should get drunk more often,” the brunette says, running her fingers through her hair.

“I already get drunk often, Alexandria,” Clarke tells her as she winks exaggeratedly. She downs the first shot and lets the taste burn her tongue.

Lexa takes the second shot, sipping it and wincing when the taste hits her. Clarke feels deliriously close to doing something stupid because her brain is fuzzy and some part of her stomach wants to throw up and she’s looking at Lexa like she’s the most beautiful person in the planet. Which she is. Lexa is so insanely beautiful and Clarke is so insanely in love with her and God, why did it take so long for her to figure it out?

“Do I have something on my face?” Lexa asks, smiling a dazzling smile at her.

“Your eyes are really green, did you know that?” Clarke says, peering close. Since Lexa is a few inches taller than she is, she has to perch herself on the stool she’s sitting on, her feet wobbling unsteadily upon it. She doesn’t notice the way Lexa’s breath stutters or the way Lexa slightly leans back.

“Clarke—” Lexa says, mouth dropping subtly.

“Really green,” Clarke murmurs, the music pounding heavily in her ears as she leans in.

//

Lexa has stopped breathing. She’s watching Clarke’s face for any sign of discomfort, or regret or plain drunken stupidity but she finds nothing. All she finds is a definite kind of wonder and hope she knows is mirrored on her own and she swallows painfully when Clarke doesn’t stop leaning forward.

They shouldn’t be doing this. She should stop her. But she doesn’t. Instead, she lets Clarke wrap her arms around her neck, lets Clarke lean against her, lets Clarke’s breath brush against her lips. She lets this warm, floaty feeling settle in her chest and for several long seconds, she lets them stay intertwined. Clarke is still staring at her, blue eyes earnest and Lexa’s hands move easily on the blonde’s waist, steadying her.

“Clarke,” she says and she hears the plea in her voice.

“Lexa,” Clarke murmurs in return, sounding breathless.

The alcohol is thrumming in her veins, making her feel bolder. She sheds all the weight on her shoulders, pushes back the things holding her back and allows herself to enjoy this moment. Clarke inhales sharply and she smells of cheap booze and sweat but Lexa doesn’t care. She doesn’t—because she feels as if she’s been waiting for this moment, this agonizing moment where all the pieces finally fall into place and oh—she’s always loved Clarke. She’s always been in love with her. Ever since they were five years old. It’s fourteen years too late and she realizes this in the most inappropriate of places but yes—Lexa is truly in love with her best friend.

She doesn’t think of Costia or of Finn. She’s too drunk to care about the repercussions of what will happen if they do this. Instead, she bumps her nose lightly with Clarke’s, who gasps.

After what feels like several years of tiptoeing around each other, Clarke finally meets her in the middle.

//

Lexa tastes of alcohol and peppermint.

//

Clarke is soft and yielding above her.

//

This is what I’ve been missing, Clarke thinks.

//

This is what I’ve been waiting for, Lexa realizes.

//

Clarke takes a shuddering breath when Lexa deepens the soft, chaste kiss, dragging her fingers across the back of Lexa’s neck, pulling her close, inhaling her scent.

//

Lexa runs her palms against the smooth expanse of Clarke’s back; where her shirt has ridden up as she feels Clarke pushing into her, opening her mouth, breathing her in.

//

Clarke doesn’t think of Finn.

//

Lexa barely remembers who Costia is.

//

Clarke is the first to pull away and the beginnings of a huge, dopey smile start to appear on her lips, when she feels the stool shaking violently beneath her.

//

Lexa catches sight of the smile and is about to lean forward again but then Clarke promptly falls off the stool, crashing into the ground and leaving Lexa open-mouthed and dazed for several long seconds.

//

Clarke forgets most of the night at the bar the next day.

//

Lexa never forgets the night for the entirety of her life.