As the hours passed, Lexa's worry grew into a gnawing sense of unease. She paced the living room of her apartment, glancing anxiously at her phone. Clarke didn't text once she got home. In fact, she didn't text at all, nor did she call. She didn't pick up either. For hours.
"Where the fuck are you?" She muttered to herself.
Lexa tried to push away all the irrational fears, reminding herself that Clarke was likely caught up in something and would reach out soon. But with each unanswered call and unreturned text, Lexa's couldn't help her mind driving her mad.
She decided to retrace Clarke's usual haunts. The library, where Clarke often wasamong the books, no results. The park, devoid of any sign of Clarke. The gym, Clarke's go-to place for stress relief, didn't offer any clues either. She stood outside Clarke's office, from a distance, nothing.
Lexa's mind raced with possibilities, each more distressing than the last. Doubts crept in, whispering worst-case scenarios that made her heart pound with fear. Lexa couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
She desperately walked to her best friend Anya's car, driving through familiar streets and hoping to spot her lost lover. Lexa's phone, gripped tightly in her hand, remained silent.
She found herself at Clarke's favorite coffee shop. The place she had so often blogged about. Lexa's eyes darted around, searching for any sign of Clarke.
Lexa's next destination was Clarke's apartment. She rushed up the stairs, hoping to find some clue, anything that would explain the silence. As she approached the door, a sense of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.
Lexa hesitated for a moment, then knocked. No response. The silence was deafening, amplifying Lexa's worry.
"Clarke, please, just answer."
Lexa returned home. The apartment seemed eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos within her mind. She entered cautiously, and her eyes immediately fixated on the counter. There, under the cold, unforgiving light, sat the one thing that couldn't be. The one fucking thing that would fuck this all up.
The fucking book.
Lexa's breath caught in her throat as she approached the counter, each heartbeat echoing like a drumbeat. It mocked her, holding the weight of everything she'd managed to build. The room felt like a vacuum.
It stared back at her. Lexa's trembling fingers traced the edges, a lump formed in her throat.
The realization struck like lightning. Clarke.. she knew everything. Lexa had never felt so exposed and vulnerable. Not even when the jury told her she'd be locked up.
She felt the tears well up in her eyes with sting, her vision blurred. In a burst of her frustration and despair, Lexa's hands trembled as she reached for the nearest glass and smashed it hard onto he floor, then another, and another one, their delicate clinks and crashes echoed through the apartment.
The quiet kitchen became a battleground of shattered glass. Each impact on the kitchen counter from her bleeding fists numbed her more. The air crackled with the sound of Lexa's fists meeting the unforgiving surface, punctuated by rapid breaths.
God she was so fucking stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why did she leave the book in her drawer? Why didn't she think Clarke could pull such a kind, but damned, stunt??
She sat with her back against the cold drawer, her hands rubbing her face as she cried.
What
The
Fuck
Do
You
Do
Now?
YOU ARE READING
I fell in love with your thoughts- A Clexa valentine's special
FanfictionThey had never met, not in person anyways. But Lexa felt like they had known each other forever. Like they were one, interlinked, in a way. She felt that Clarke, though unknowingly, had been with her through the darkest time of her life, when her co...
