Coffee ☸ Clexa AU [DISCONTINUED]

• seven •

#gayisok soap 4 lyfe

lexa's pov

"I still don't understand what you see in her," Raven repeats for the fifth time today.

"She's nice," Octavia says. "Sometimes annoying, but nice."

"I love her, Raven," I say. "I'm just surprised she didn't even seem to mention that she dated a serial killer."

"It's not exactly something you slip casually into a conversation," Octavia argues.

I shrug. "She hasn't replied to my text."

"Or mine," Raven says. "I told her you were crying."

"Well, I wonder why she's not responding!"

"Girls, quiet," Jaha demands. He's the principle, but he teaches some classes. He continues with his lecture to the class while Raven giggles at her phone.

"What is it?" I whisper to her.

"Look what I sent her," she says, slyly handing me her phone.

To: Clarke
Looks like your relaishonship is over, it says.

"I aspire to spell as well as you do, Raven, but that's horrible to say," I scold.

"Isn't it over?" she asks.

"No," I say firmly.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

From: Princess 👸🏼👑
I love you, please don't break up with me. X

I quickly type back a message.

To: Princess 👸🏼👑
I'll call you after class.

The bell rings for lunch and everyone quickly makes their way out the door.

"Miss. Heda?" Jaha says.

We stop and turn around. "Yeah?" I ask.

"I need a parent to sign this slip so they know you're failing science."

"Everyone knows I'm failing."

"I need this signed anyway." He gives me the slip of paper and I stuff it into my bag.

I nod and my friends and I walk out the door.

"Who even needs this science bullshit in their life, anyway?" Octavia questions.

"We don't even need to know how cells divide, they just do," Raven adds.

"I won't graduate if I fail all my classes," I say. "The only things I'm good at are English and lunch."

"Hey," Bellamy butts in from the crowd of people walking to lunch. "You could write Clarke a love poem if you're so good at English."

"Shut up, Blake," I say and he laughs with his friends.

"You should call her, now," Octavia suggests.

I nod and pull out my phone. Upon switching it on, I'm flooded with texts from Clarke. Most of them go along the lines of "I love you" and "please call", but there's one attachment. I swipe left, type in my passcode and look at it. It's a screenshot of a text from her mom. Pack up your stuff, it says.

I immediately call Clarke; she picks up after the first ring, as if she was eagerly waiting for me to talk to her.

"Lexa!" she exclaims, her voice cracking.

"Clarke," I say, without the equal amount of enthusiasm. "I just looked through your texts."

"I'm sorry for piling this all on you," she sobs.