By: nutmeg101
They are six years old when they meet for the first time.
It's the first day of the first grade and Lexa stands in the crowded schoolyard looking scared and lost. One hand is white knuckled around her lunch box; the other is at her side, loosely picking at a backpack strap. She recognizes Monty and Jasper from last year's kindergarten class in the distance playing on the playground, but neither seems to notice her and she's far too shy to trek through the hoards of older kids.
The school bell rings, loud and shrill, and everyone scatters towards the doors. Everyone but Lexa. She's partly frozen on the spot, not really sure where to go and her heart sinks when she looses sight of Monty and Jasper.
She's nothing but nerves and the threat of tears, but she won't show it. Her jaw is tight, her back much too stiff for the likes a six year old, and her gaze is steady at nothing in particular. That is, until she feels a presence sidle up to her.
"Are you lost?" a gentle voice says and Lexa turns to follow it.
Lexa is small, but the girl she finds standing next to her is even smaller. She's all blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a denim skirt covered with what looks like iron on flower patches. Lexa might recognize her from a different kindergarten class, but doesn't know her name.
Lexa shakes her head turning her gaze away, but the girl next to her doesn't move.
"You look lost," the girl tries again.
"I'm not lost," Lexa says softly but firmly. There's a hint of a waver in her voice. She is lost though, completely. She's never been on this side of the school before and when her mom had told her there'd be a lot of bigger kids, she was not expecting this, not expecting to feel like she might get trampled or swallowed at any given second.
The girl takes a step in front of Lexa, but Lexa looks past her. "Okay," the girl says shrugging. She waits a moment before turning on her heels but only makes it about three steps.
"No, wait," Lexa calls out, closing the distance. She looks at the girl sheepishly. "I'm...lost," she says, quieter this time.
The girl smiles, eyes lighting up like she has been waiting to help Lexa. "Who is your teacher?" she asks.
"Um, Ms. Indra, I think."
"Hey! Mine too!" The girl squeals, practically jumping on the spot. "Come on," she says, grabbing Lexa by the hand and leading her towards the doors.
Lexa follows, but pulls her hand out of the girl's. The girl stops, turns around, and half pouts.
"I don't bite," she says, re-extending her hand. Lexa eyes it apprehensively and eventually takes it when she hears the rush of kids coming from behind her. "I'm Clarke, by the way," the girl finally says when they're inside in the school. "You're Lexa right?"
"How did you know?" Lexa says, following Clarke closely, eyes sizing up her surroundings.
"You know Monty and Jasper. They're my friends too."
"Oh," Lexa nods. "Yeah, I'm Lexa." She smiles for the first time all morning.
They're in a maze of hallways, loud noises, and big people and it's actually Clarke who tries to let go of Lexa's hand first, but Lexa clings tightly. Her heart isn't beating as quickly as it was a few minutes ago, and she doesn't feel like slipping through the fence in the schoolyard and running home to her mom and dog anymore.
If Clarke minds Lexa's sweaty palm in hers, she doesn't do or say anything about it. In fact, it actually makes Clarke squeeze harder. It's not until they're safely inside the classroom that they both reluctantly let go. They stay close though, never drifting more than a few feet apart.
Lexa doesn't understand it now, but years and years later, she'll pinpoint this moment as the very first time she fell for Clarke Griffin.
ii.
Lexa finds Clarke outside on the trampoline; knees hugged tightly to her chest as she sits and watches the breeze ruffle the treetops in the backyard. The sun is low now, the sky a deep, smoky orange colour.
Somewhere in the Griffin household, Jake and Abby are cleaning up the aftermath of Clarke's 12th birthday party. It had started wonderfully, all her friends present; now Clarke is feeling foolish for letting it end with herself in tears.
"Hey," Lexa says gently as she climbs through the side netting of the trampoline, crawling next to Clarke. Clarke sniffles, wiping the tears from her eyes looking away. "Hey," Lexa repeats, even more gently this time while draping an arm around her best friend's shoulder. "Finn is the dumbest person I've ever met. Don't let him ruin your birthday."
Clarke is silent, willing the tears to stop. She's knows that Lexa is right, knows that Finn loves to cause trouble and is all around a grade A jerk. Still, he's in her friend circle and she hates how he has always known how to get under her skin. Always saying the wrong things at the wrong times.
"But did you hear what he said, Lex?" Clarke finally manages through a sob, hurt laced into her words. "He said I'd never be as pretty as Raven and that should I just stop trying."
Lexa shakes her head, feeling the anger starting to bubble in her blood. She has never liked Finn Collins, not from the first day they met in the third grade. Everything about him is stupid as she always likes tells Clarke, especially his hair. Lexa had once tried to gift him with a comb at school, but it ended up back in her cubby with a note that read, "you could use it more." It has been war ever since.
"I can beat him up for you if you want," Lexa offers with a sudden sparkle in her eye and lilt to her voice. Clarke leans her head into Lexa's, trying to hide a smirk. She doesn't doubt Lexa in the slightest; Lexa would do anything for her, always loyal to her word.
"I just don't want to be his friend anymore," Clarke says, heaving a sad, shaky sigh.
"So don't," Lexa says, holding out her free hand across her lap into Clarke's. Clarke takes it and holds onto it like she always does. "Finn isn't worth it," Lexa reassures, trying to mend her best friend's broken heart. "He's a stupid boy with a stupid name and an even stupider haircut." She pauses, mulling over her words. "Raven is pretty, Clarke, but you're prettier. The prettiest girl in school."
Clarke scoffs almost immediately. Her tears are gone. "No I'm not. You must be crazy."
Lexa pulls her head away from Clarke's in search of her gaze. When she finds it, she smiles shyly. "You are to me," she says.
There's a beat of silence and then Clarke is back to usual grinning self. She wraps her hands around Lexa's neck and pulls her close, planting a firm, but wet kiss onto her cheek.
"Thanks, Lex," she says, pulling away and tucking her head into the crook of Lexa's shoulder. "I love you."
Lexa lets the words fill and expand in her chest, and the warmth spread throughout her body. There's a slow burning sensation deep in her stomach and she's not all too sure what it means. What she does know is that she wouldn't mind staying like this for a little bit longer, nestled in as close to Clarke as possible. She also knows she doesn't ever want to see Clarke like this again: sad because of a boy; sad because of anything. All she ever wants to do is make Clarke feel as safe as Clarke made her feel on the first day they met.
"Love you too, Clarke," Lexa breathes, ruffling blonde flyaway hairs that tickle at her nose.
iii.
It's their senior year in high school and they're in Charleston, South Carolina for spring break. They forgo the big party cities despite Octavia's pleas for them to join her, Bellamy, Finn, Raven, Jasper, and Maya in Miami. Hearing Finn's name is more than enough for Lexa to immediately shun the idea, and Clarke doesn't want to be anywhere that Lexa isn't.
Wells and Monty try to tag along, but Clarke insists this is a girl's trip. Best friends only.
On their second day there, they meander through sunny colourful streets in tank tops and flip flops; large sunglasses and floppy hats. Often they're hand in hand with silly grins plastered on their faces. It's nice to spend time alone together like this and if Lexa is being honest, it always becomes harder and harder for her to spend any time away from Clarke.
After what seems like hours of walking, hunger catches up with them and they stumble into a small and quite café nestled between an antique store and bookstore, which backs onto the water. Lexa leads them out onto the patio to a table as far away as possible from anyone. There isn't much shade out here, the sun relentless on their fair skin, which will later turn pink and sore. A waitress promptly brings them water and menus.
"I'm really glad we came here," Clarke smiles. She means Charleston of course, not the café. Lexa flashes a smile back, reaching for her water.
"Me too," she says, and then crinkles her nose. "I'll bet Octavia and Bellamy are throwing up in a hotel bathroom somewhere."
"Gross," Clarke laughs, pulling off her hat and hanging it onto the side of her chair. She leans back and unabashedly regards Lexa for a moment. Her long is long in soft curls; it flutters carelessly in the breeze. Clarke doesn't tell her that the scent of her shampoo makes her head swim. Lexa's eyes twinkle brightly like emeralds in the sunlight, and her lips are full and probably taste like the chapstick they've been sharing.
"What?" Lexa wrinkles her brow, feeling her cheeks slowly tickle pink. "What are you looking at?"
"Nothing," Clarke says, opening up the menu trying to dismiss the conversation.
"Clarke," she presses again and Clarke closes the menu.
"Do you remember after my 12th birthday—"
"You mean the night my hatred for Finn came to life?"
Clarke purses her lips into a straight line, trying to suppress a grin. "Yes, that night. You said you thought I was prettiest girl in school. Did you really mean that or was that just something a best friend is supposed to tell their best friend?"
Lexa swallows hard and she's certain of the blush that's creeping up her neck. She's also aware that Clarke is aware.
"Of course I meant it. Why—"
"We're in high school now. What about now?"
Lexa blinks and her gaze is calculated. She doesn't understand where this is coming from and takes a moment to measure Clarke's words before answering.
"The statement still stands, Clarke. It always has and it always will."
There's a rigidness in Clarke's shoulder that dissipates when she hears the words. As if for some reason she needed to be reassured of this, as if Lexa doesn't already look at her with a look that's only reserved for her.
As if they don't look at each other like they are the damn universe.
Lexa makes no mention of her observation at first, letting Clarke's gaze flicker back to the menu. She does however make quick of the moment, letting her own eyes settle onto Clarke. Clarke is beautiful all the time, but right now, hair sloppily thrown into a bun and sunglasses resting atop her head, face bright and carefree, she looks a different kind of stunning and it leaves Lexa breathless.
The light catches the tiny scar under Clarke's eye, the one she had gotten when they had both fallen out of a tree when they were about nine years old. No stitches required, but Lexa remembers the moment well—Clarke nearly passing out from the sight on her own blood.
Lexa reaches her arm across the table and softly touches the side of Clarke's face. It takes her by surprise at first, but then Clarke is closing her eyes leaning into the warmth of her palm and Lexa is running her thumb across the scar.
"That wouldn't be there if you hadn't kicked me," Clarke teases quietly.
"I didn't kick you, my foot slipped and you just happened to be in the way. It's not my fault you have the slowest reflexes ever."
Clarke narrows her eyes, but her smirk makes it less than menacing. Before Lexa can retreat her hand, Clarke reaches up to keep it in place. She places a quick and tender kiss in the centre of her palm and then lets Lexa have her hand back.
"I never told you," Clarke starts, "but I always thought you were the prettiest girl in school."
Lexa is beet red for sure now. She can feel the sting high in her cheeks all the way up to her ears. There's a familiar buzz circuiting through her entire existence and an even more familiar rolling tug in the pit of her stomach. The only difference between now and the first time, is that now she can place an emotion to it, can identify it for what it is.
She's falling for her best friend and it's eating her up.
iv.
They are both a little drunk when it happens.
Too many miles have separated them for too many weeks and Lexa never fully understands the phrase "absence makes the heart grow fonder" until they both go to different colleges.
Now they're practically cuddling in Clarke's dorm room at Penn State and laughing and catching up while they share a bottle of luke warm white wine. ("I'm on a starving student budget," Clarke says, "we're drinking straight outta the bottle.")
They've always been overly affectionate growing up—their friends not so subtly taking bets on when they'd finally get together—but tonight, whatever line that does separate their friendship from anything beyond that starts to become a little blurry.
It starts when Clarke falls to her bed and pulls Lexa onto her lap. It's innocent enough, nothing out of the ordinary, much like old times when they'd watch TV or movies together at each other's houses. Tonight, however, Lexa's sits perpendicular on Clarke, her legs dangling off of her to the side. Her arms are wrapped tightly around Clarke's shoulders for support while Clarke's arms are securely around Lexa's waist. Clarke rests her head into Lexa's chest and Lexa prays that she doesn't hear the way her heartbeat quickens.
"I missed you a lot, Lex," Clarke mumbles into the well worn material of Lexa's shirt.
"I missed you more," Lexa says, placing a soft kiss into Clarke's temple. She likes to humour herself in thinking that there's a permanent dent there from all the times her lips have made their mark. "This is so much better than skyping and texting."
"Tell me about it." Clarke shifts, positioning Lexa more comfortably on top of her. Her hand slips though, and winds up flush against the warm skin just above Lexa's hip. The goosebumps read like braille.
"I'm squishing you," Lexa fidgets, quick to remove the attention from herself, and it's comical because even if she's some three inches taller than Clarke, she's always been just a hair thinner and lighter. "I'll move," she offers.
Clarke's grip only tightens. "No, stay," she rushes, then more slowly: "I mean, it's fine, I'm totally comfortable."
Lexa gets up anyways, her fingertips trailing the width between Clarke's shoulder blades as she does. She doesn't actually want to get up, but she knows that the longer she's like this with Clarke—so intimate—the more she'll start to lose her resolve and the last thing she wants to do is something stupid.
You know, like, kiss Clarke.
Instead, she retrieves the half bottle of wine from the desk and hands it to Clarke; another stupid idea in it's own right.
"Drink up, buttercup," Lexa urges, a coy smile playing at her lips. Clarke's eyes don't leave Lexa's until her mouth is pressed to the bottle and her head is tilting back. And Lexa's eyes are definitely not the painting the length of her neck.
After a long swig, Clarke hands the bottle back.
"You know the rules. Wine must have wine."
They never actually finish the bottle. They don't need to. They're both teetering the line between tipsy and drunk (Clarke more so on the drunk side than Lexa) and for whatever reason unbeknownst to either of them, especially Lexa, they want to keep their wits about them.
Maybe it's because they both know that for the past year or so, something has changed. Like a switch has been flipped.
Sure, they've been best friends for as long as they can remember, but there's always been an undercurrent of something deeper than friendship that runs between them. Something they've both been too scared to explore. (Maybe it's for the best.)
Now it feels like an opportunity is presenting itself. For Lexa, it's an opportunity that could make or break them.
The next time they check the time, it's well after two in the morning. The alcohol is slow to leave their system; their senses dulled, their guards are down. Not that they ever really have one up around each other anyways.
Clarke is already in bed (not) watching Lexa change into one of her oversized t-shirts. Lexa is overtly aware, though, her ears burning. Clarke has never been one for subtleties and is caught in the act when Lexa unbuttons her jeans and slides them off.
"You looking for a show, Griffin?" Lexa winks.
Clarke has always been good at the recovery though. "Maybe. Why? You wanna give me one?"
Lexa rolls her eyes and simply toes off her sock and kicks it at Clarke's face, who swats it away. "Shut up," she laughs and climbs into the bed next to her.
It's small, the bed, and they are suddenly both overcome with nostalgia.
"Remember when my dad bought me that bunk bed so we could have sleepovers?" Clarke sighs fondly, rolling onto her side. She slings an arm and a leg across Lexa and nestles so closely that her breath tickles at Lexa's neck.
"Mhm," Lexa hums, heart singing at the memory. "And remember all the times we'd end up in each other's bunks?"
"Doesn't feel any different right now."
"You're right."
There's a silence filling room, a growing sort of static electricity. Lexa reaches out to turn off the light and then makes herself comfortable, relishing in Clarke's body heat. She smells good too, like the same shampoo she's used since she was a teenager.
Maybe it's the alcohol, but Clarke can't seem to keep her hands still. They're tracing up and down the side of Lexa's ribcage and as a result, Lexa's shirt has bunched up, her underwear partly exposed beneath the covers.
"Sorry," Clarke whispers, her hand coming to a halt. She doesn't move it though, instead, it lays splayed on Lexa's hipbone, feeling the thin layer of lace at her fingertips.
Lexa doesn't say anything. She blinks into the darkness not really sure of what to even say. She's been in the position a million times with Clarke, but never like this. It's new and exciting and yet she knows she should probably turn the other way and go to sleep. But her heart is beating a little faster, her body temperature is rising, and she wonders if it's possible that Clarke can hear the blood whizzing through her veins. She shifts, and instead allows herself to bear more of Clarke's weight.
"Night, Lex," Clarke manages. And maybe it's because it's too dark and her head is in sorts, but she's quick to realize that the goodnight kiss she means to place on Lexa's cheek actually ends up on her neck.
It's so unexpected that Lexa can't help the small gasp of air that escapes her and then she's covered in goosebumps again.
Clarke stills once more, her mind working overtime, but Lexa's lack of resistance cloaks her in a blanket of braveness so she kisses her again.
This time longer; this time more purposely.
Lexa lets out something more akin to a moan this time, her breathing suddenly more shallow and rapid. "Clarke..." she tries, but before she can get much else out, Clarke has shifted and is hovering above her; nose to nose, forehead to forehead.
"Lexa," Clarke breathes so quietly, eyes closed, onto Lexa's lips that Lexa can taste it more so than she can hear it. It sends a rocket of a shiver down her spine and then her hands are gripping Clarke's waist, hungry, holding her in place. "Lexa," Clarke breathes again, rocking forward slightly. This time their lips actually brush. "Tell me I shouldn't do this."
Lexa screams it loudly in her head, but can't fathom it into words or actions. This isn't how she wanted this to happen; not while they're drunk and desperately missing each other, but alas she just can't find the willpower to stop it and thus her silence is answer enough to prompt Clarke close what little space is between them.
Lexa's lips are much softer than they look and they taste sweet like the wine; and Clarke does this thing with her tongue that if Lexa were standing, her knees might have given out. Nothing is frantic though. In fact, it's all very slow and tender because this isn't a random make out session with a stranger. It's two best friends kissing each other for the first time, one of which may have loved the other for the better part of a decade.
It's Lexa asking Clarke if she's okay even though it's Clarke who initiates the kiss.
It's Clarke meticulously peppering Lexa's face with kisses, light like raindrops.
It's Lexa's hands nervously creeping their way underneath Clarke's shirt, mapping the bumps and ridges as she goes.
Mostly it's Lexa being cautious, fully aware of the ramifications that tomorrow may bring.
But for now, Lexa will put up a mental block. It's years and years of pent up heart aching desire and love that Lexa is going to drown herself in because right now she can't separate her head from her heart.
v.
They don't see each other until the Thanksgiving break. When they do, it only happens once.
It is far too quick and unfulfilling. Lexa drops by the Griffin residence the night before Thanksgiving Day to have dinner. Jake and Abby welcome her with open arms as they have been since Lexa was six years old and this is the only place Lexa feels more at home than in her actual home.
They laugh and reminisce over spaghetti and meatballs like nothing has ever changed, but Lexa can feel it, can feel the distance that has wedged itself between her and Clarke, though Jake and Abby are seemingly oblivious.
She doesn't regret sleeping with Clarke, she regrets the way it happened: alcohol induced after desperately missing each other for too long. Lexa knew that Clarke would not see it for what it was the next morning, solely blaming it on the alcohol and poor choices. Lexa also knows that if Clarke could look past the alcohol, she could see that maybe, just maybe what happened had been a long time coming—inevitable.
Instead, now they walk on eggshells and Lexa is starting to lose the person she loves the most.
By the time Christmas rolls around, they talk so infrequently—sparse texts, not a single phone call—that Lexa begins to wonder if they are even still friends. It's not for lack of trying on Lexa's end, Clarke just doesn't seem ready to face the reality.
It's tragic and earth shattering, the thought of losing Clarke completely, and Lexa would rather die than entertain the idea.
It's after midnight and the ground is powdery and white in Washington when Lexa peers out of her bedroom window. Everything behind her is dark, lit only by the moonlight that reflects off the white glow of snow. She stares outside for so long, completely mesmerized by the giant snowflakes that drift from the sky that it's not until her phone buzzing on her side table startles her back into reality.
Her heart practically stops when she sees Clarke's face light up on the screen and she has to will herself to pick it up.
"Clarke?" Lexa answers in a hushed tone almost too urgently. She can really only hear her pulse thumping in her head.
"Hey you," Clarke says softly, her voice raw and Lexa can't tell if she's half asleep or has just been crying.
"What's wrong? Is everything okay?" It's the first time they've spoken in way too long that Lexa doesn't know how to react other than alarmed and worried.
"I—I miss the sound of your voice," Clarke says earnestly and Lexa's heart grows heavy in her chest. It aches all the way to her toes and she wonders how a voice could break her so easily.
"I'm right here," Lexa assures, sitting on the edge of her bed. She buries her head into her free hand and rubs at her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Clarke squeaks, her voice wavering. There are rocks settling in Lexa's stomach.
"For what?"
There's silence and Lexa thinks the call is dropped.
"For how we got to this point. I'm—"
"Clarke," Lexa interrupts. She not sure she wants to hear whatever else Clarke has to say. "Don't. Please."
There's silence again and the sound of sniffling in the background of the phone breaks Lexa heart all over again.
"Can you meet me outside your house in fifteen minutes?" Clarke finally says.
"But it's snow—yes. I'll be there."
Lexa is sitting on her porch bundled in her jacket, hat, and scarf when Clarke finally appears at the edge of the driveway, dressed in similar fashion. She springs to her feet trudges through the snow to meet her halfway, but before any words can be exchanged, both girls are hugging each other tightly unwilling to let go. Lexa lets a tear roll down her cheek but quickly wipes it away before Clarke notices.
When they pull apart, Clarke's eyes are red and raw. She has definitely been crying and all Lexa wants is to go back to simpler times, to when they were ten years old and hiding from the boys in the cardboard fort they had built in Raven's backyard, water guns as their only defense.
"Whatever is going on, you can tell me," Lexa comforts, even if she feels like she has nothing much to give. "You can tell me anything, okay? I love you."
The words almost feel like poison on her tongue because Clarke will never know just how deeply she means them. Of course they love each other, but Lexa loves Clarke. Unforgivingly so.
They end up walking aimlessly in silence for a few blocks, all the while Clarke's gloved hand is intertwined tightly with Lexa's bare hand. It might feel like everything is back to normal again if they can stay like this long enough. When they eventually wind up at Clarke's house, Clarke doesn't lead them inside. Instead, she takes them through the side gate into the backyard and onto the trampoline.
Lexa's heart swells at the sight. It was never just a trampoline; it was their safe space growing up. Rarely was it ever used for bouncing and both girls have lost count of the number of times they've fallen asleep on the canvas under the stars after hours and hours of endless talking, zipped into the security of the surrounding safety netting, only to have woken up the next morning covered in blankets from the living room.
Clarke unzips the flap and ushers Lexa in first. She brushes away a small area of snow so they can sit then reaches out to help Clarke in, who then re-zips the flap shut behind her. There's history within these walls—secrets, tears, laughter, anger—that not even a textbook could rewrite.
They settle in side by side, keeping each other warm. When Clarke finds Lexa's gaze, any unfamiliar outsider might mistake it for disinterest, but only Clarke knows she's been hurt and there's nothing more devastating than knowing that ultimately, it's because of her. Her stubbornness, her fear.
"How did this happen?" Clarke seemingly blurts out, like she's been holding in too many words for too long. Her body language is unnatural. "How did we get here?"
It's rhetoric more than anything else.
Lexa lets out a light and airy laugh that puffs white and wispy through her parted lips. Two months ago she would have never predicted being in this situation.
"I can think of at least one reason."
Clarke turns her head, slight disapproval at first; then Lexa meets her gaze and lifts a knowing eyebrow. They both laugh together for the first time in what feels like forever. It's not a huge weight lifted, but it's something, a start. (Or an end. Lexa violently bemoans the idea in her head.) At this point, the least of Lexa's worries is that her love for Clarke goes unrequited. She just wants her best friend back.
"So do you regret it?" Lexa asks. The air is heavy again, thick with unanswered questions. Clarke confidently shakes her head.
"No. Not at all. I regret what happened after. How I acted, how I pushed you away. I was just so scared."
"I wish you would have talked to me," Lexa sighs. She angles herself so she can look at Clarke more directly. It's been so long since she has really looked at her best friend that the pang of affection that follows is overwhelming. "You never have to be scared when it comes to me, okay? Clarke, I lo—"
Lexa stops herself. She knows that in this context, I love you is just a simple gesture of their friendship, even if it's being held together by threads right now. The thing is, she can no longer say it without meaning it on a whole other level, a level that Clarke can't reciprocate.
She's willing herself to say something when Clarke cuts her off.
"That's just it," she tells her, "you love me, and I love—" Clarke pauses, searching for eloquence in her words. She shifts, propping herself up onto her knees so she can regard more steadily at Lexa. "Remember when we were in Charleston for spring break?" she tries again.
Lexa's face contorts in confusion, but she's listening and nods
"And I asked you that stupid question if you still thought I was the prettiest girl in school and you said yes and then I said you were also the prettiest girl in school?"
Lexa nods again, swallowing. Of course she remembers. She remembers everything.
"I asked you because I had all these confused feelings about you, for you. I knew I was attracted to you, but I didn't know how far that attraction went. I had so many questions for you, I wanted to tell you so many things. Eventually I just repressed all of it."
Lexa blinks, letting the weight of the words register. It's a revelation, really, and Lexa is struggling to find the right words to fill the silence. If only she had known; if only she had the courage to speak up. Maybe this wouldn't be happening, maybe this, maybe that. She can't fault either of them for this being the current situation; no one is to bear the burden of simply feeling.
She can, however, find a way through it.
"What about now?" Lexa asks, pulling Clarke back into a sitting position. She leaves her hand wrapped around Clarke's wrist, letting her know it's okay, that she's safe not only within the walls of the trampoline, but within her.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you still have questions? Do you still have things you want to tell me?"
Lexa can see the gears turning in Clarke's head. She knows there's so much in there that wants to come out so she waits patiently until Clarke is ready.
Then finally:
"Lex, you are my best friend and I literally can't remember anything before that. You're the only person I've ever felt completely safe and like myself around. You are my better half, and you are everything to me." Clarke pauses, catching her breath. She takes a second to study Lexa, to see if she should stop, but Lexa is wide eyed and all ears. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that is it so unheard of to fall in love with your best friend? Is it so unheard of that two people who have shared their entire lives together would have this, sort of, visceral connection?"
By now, Lexa's heart is beating somewhere in her throat. There's a welcomed hum buzzing under the skin, but still, she is cautious. It is not often she is guarded around Clarke, but she is not looking to have her heart crushed anymore than it has been.
"For how long, Clarke?" Lexa asks hesitantly.
Clarke shrugs. "I loved you in the first grade when you were lost in the schoolyard and refused my help."
Lexa laughs. "Shut up." She swats at Clarke's arm and Clarke flashes a genuine smile for the first time all night.
"I loved you when you pushed Wells down a slide for kissing me on the playground. I loved you all those times you offered to beat Finn up for me. I loved you when I went on my first date with Bellamy and you went on yours with Costia. I even loved you when you kicked me out of a tree."
There's a break in the sky and the snow stops falling. The moon shines through brightly, haloing Clarke in silver light. Her eyes are wet and she looks more scared than she ever has.
"I told you," Lexa hushes, heart slowly filling with warmth. "I didn't kick you. You got in the way of my foot."
"That's hearsay."
"Whatever," Lexa rolls her eyes, but it's only laced with affection. She pulls Clarke closer by the front of her coat so she can wipe the tears that have fallen. Her hand is cold against her face and Clarke shivers. "Sorry," Lexa whispers, placing a feather light kiss on her cheek. Clarke closes her eyes and leans forward into it.
"No," she says pulling away, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I shut you out. I'm sorry I ran away from what I was scared of. I'm sorry I hurt you."
Lexa's guard is low though there is still much to be processed and talked about. But for now, she will take this moment for whatever it may be, letting herself ruminate in the gravity of it all.
"Come on," Clarke says, a hitch in her breath, "say something. I know I don't deserve much an explanation, but I need to know I'm not gonna have frostbite in the morning for nothing."
"I mean, what is there to say?" Lexa says, bearing everything she has into Clarke's soul with her eyes. "I've loved you before I even knew what love was. It's as simple as that."
"And now?"
"The statement still stands, Clarke. It always has and it always will."
The words are familiar and they etch themselves into the walls of the snow-covered canvas, into both of their hearts. This is where the free fall begins to slow. The parachute deploys as Clarke leans in close, pulling the scarf away from Lexa's face.
She whispers, "I love you," low and slow onto Lexa's lips before she kisses her soundly, no holds barred, no more questions in the air. If Lexa is teeth chattering cold, she isn't anymore. She let's herself melt into Clarke, pulling her onto her lap. They kiss until their ears and toes are numb and there's nowhere left to go but inside to get warm.
And this is where Lexa's feet finally touch the ground.
The free fall is over.
Clarke has caught her.