Hook(er) Up - A Clexa Fic

Chapter 35- You.

"... Is it that obvious?"

Clarke was caught off guard by the comment, watching the girl cover her neck shyly, unaware that she was staring at it, to begin with.

'Shit. Fuck. Shit.' She didn't mean to. She didn't mean to stare. She didn't want to stare- to be disrespectful. She didn't want to make a big deal out of it. She didn't even want to think about it, let alone make Lexa self-conscious about it. 'Fuck.' She didn't mean it. She just couldn't help it- her eyes kept being pulled back to the same spot.

She just couldn't get over the stress from a few days back. She couldn't help but feel her heart rate speed up as she stared at her stitching job. It was like reliving the moment all over again- watching Lexa's lifeless body in front of her and forcing herself, with every ounce of her body, to not have a full-blown panic attack right then and there. She couldn't help but stare and think of all the possible things that could've gone wrong. Think about what could've happened. 

What did happen.

She couldn't help but stare at Lexa's neck and see her own father. She could see him clearly, just as she did the day he died, a little girl rushing from school, breaking in tears, staring at her dad's permanently shut eyes, never being able to say goodbye. Never being able to tell him one last time 'I love you, papa'.

And she could see him on the operation table, laying still and lifeless as she watched the heart monitor come to a dreadful halt, feeling all of life lose its meaning the way her mother did that day. 

She felt it all. She felt it all because she became her mom the second she saw Lexa's body on the hospital bed. She wasn't just a helpless kid who couldn't have done anything regardless, coming to a hospital to see her dead dad. She was her mom. She was able to do something. She was there- watching breaths escape Lexa's body, with her heart refusing to function anytime the monitor slowed down with its beeping, knowing God-well she could've done more.

And Clarke was lucky enough that she did do enough. She was able to save Lexa before it was too late. Before her heart would've failed her.

But she couldn't help but relive it.

She couldn't help but see her dad.

She couldn't help but see Lexa. 

She couldn't help but imagine if it was too late. 

...

That she wouldn't have been able to say goodbye.

That she wouldn't have been able to say 'I love you'.

...

She stared because it hurt.

...

And it didn't just hurt Clarke to think about. It hurt because she also couldn't begin to imagine how much it hurt Lexa. It hurt that she was gone for so long that she wasn't ever able to tell that Lexa was getting to that point. That she couldn't have been there to help her. That whatever Lexa had to go through, she had to go through alone.

That hurt.

That hurt because she really fucking cared. So much so that she swore not to mention it as to not make Lexa uncomfortable or self-conscious. 

And then she still ended up staring.

"No! No, no! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! I just- I- I-" Clarke felt herself stumbling on her words, unable to forge a sentence. She wanted to tell her it wasn't so obvious or distracting- that, in all honesty, nothing was as captivating as Lexa's gorgeous face anyway- and that she was only staring because she was critiquing her own stitches, reliving her dread. She wanted to tell her she only stared because she was concerned about whether she did a good job. Whether Lexa felt okay. That she couldn't help but think of her dad when she saw her.