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Swallowing past the ever growing lump in her throat, Lexa forces herself to say something — because they’ve agreed on this: no hiding, no lying, no shouldering things alone, only open dialogue could give them a fighting chance. “This feels like crossing a line.”
Clarke doesn’t answer right away, tightening her grip around Lexa. It helps, it always does. It keeps her from crumbling, and it only just manages to do the job now. When Clarke speaks, her voice is small. “Haven’t we crossed all of them already?”
“You know what I mean,” Lexa says, peeling her eyes from the white clogs that don't belong to Clarke and turning around in her arms. She keeps her hands on Clarke’s forearms — anything more than this, and it’ll be a lost battle. Not for the first time, Lexa tries to make Clarke see reason, pleads for her to be the rational one between the two of them. “This is your apartment, your bed. Her bed.”
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a dwindling, mercurial high
sassymajesty
Summary:Swallowing past the ever growing lump in her throat, Lexa forces herself to say something — because they’ve agreed on this: no hiding, no lying, no shouldering things alone, only open dialogue could give them a fighting chance. “This feels like crossing a line.”
Clarke doesn’t answer right away, tightening her grip around Lexa. It helps, it always does. It keeps her from crumbling, and it only just manages to do the job now. When Clarke speaks, her voice is small. “Haven’t we crossed all of them already?”
“You know what I mean,” Lexa says, peeling her eyes from the white clogs that don't belong to Clarke and turning around in her arms. She keeps her hands on Clarke’s forearms — anything more than this, and it’ll be a lost battle. Not for the first time, Lexa tries to make Clarke see reason, pleads for her to be the rational one between the two of them. “This is your apartment, your bed. Her bed.”