Clexa (Taylor's Version)🤍
I wanted an excuse to write heavy angst + messiness with lots of social media
Clarke and Lexa are celebrities in L.A.'s Hollywood scene, and have been broken up for a while, but can't quite move on from each other. Thei...
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Right now though Clarke just needs some fresh air, and almost jumps out her skin when she turns the corner of the balcony and sees Anya reclined back in the furthest chair out of view from the living room, one leg crossed over the over swirling ice in an empty scotch glass.
"Holy SHIT you scared me!" The blonde clutches her chest. She definitely had forgotten Anya was out here.
Clarke quickly tries to overcome the awkwardness realizing Lexa's best friend just heard their entire conversation.
"I think uh.... Raven might need to lie down for a bit." Hoping that would prompt the girl inside to help Raven upstairs.
"She's a big girl, she'll be fine." Anya's tone is eerily nonchalant, making Clarke even more uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry" she says, "That you had to hear....all that."
A slight chuckle, "What, my girlfriend saying she wants to fuck my best friend? Not the first time."
"You know that's not what I mean."
Anya merely sighs.
"I've been in the middle of your guys' shitstorm since it began." Her voice staying dead even, "I'm used to it."
The silence that follows stretches out painstakingly long. Not wanting to go back in and deal with drunk Raven, Clarke tries walking over to the railing, looking out at the view. The swirling breeze out on the balcony did feel so good. The sticky summer heat had passed and the mild transition into fall was always the best time of year in her opinion.
Clarke looks over her shoulder to see Anya get up, and step around the furniture to join her at the railing. Something about her slow saunter, dressed in a solid black t-shirt tucked into brown corduroy pants only lent itself to her "wise old man" persona Lexa always teased her about.
"Can I ask you a question?" Anya asks, leaning against the railing on her forearms and Clarke swallows, wishing she had another glass of wine in hand.
"What is it you wanted from her?"
The question catches her off guard. A seemingly simple ask, but one that leaves Clarke speechless.
Anya lets it marinate, tossing the ice out of her glass over the edge of the railing.
"It's just..." Anya continues after a few minutes, "It seemed like you had already made up your mind that night."
Clarke knew exactly what night she meant, but remains silent.
She hates going back to that December.
"So then what else could she have done?" Anya's tone is subdued and sincere.
Clarke grips the balcony railing, as she stares at a fixed point in the distant hillside, her vision going in and out of focus.
The night plays out like a movie in her mind...one she's rewatched and fallen asleep to crying countless times.
