I fell in love with your thoughts- A Clexa valentine's special

Listen before I go

"Mom... Please," Lexa's voice trembled, the echoes of desperation audible through the call. She glanced at her phone, her heart sinking with each passing moment of nothing.

"Pick up... Mom," Lexa urged, the void on the other end did nothing, again.

"I have nothing left, I- I did fuck up," Lexa admitted.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," she whispered into the void, the apology a feeble attempt to put it out there, get her to pick up. Tears welled up in her eyes yet again.

"I'm sorry," Lexa repeated. As the seconds ticked by in the agonizing silence, she sighed.

"Fuck... Mom, please," she begged once more, the plea lingering.

She felt helpless. She brought it on herself. Maybe she just isn't made for love, she can't even get it for real.. The love was real, but she staged it. She forced Clarke to love her back.

She dialed the number once again, but when she was about to press the green call button, her thumb wouldn't let her. She trembled. She kept replaying it in her head, how it went so well, how this one misstep fucked everything up. 

She wanted her mom.

She wanted Clarke.

Her eyes glanced over the pieces of glass all over her floor, the blood stains, she caught a glimpse of herself in a dar window. Whoof. She looked miserable, and she was.

She dialed the number again, and left a voice message.

"Mom, listen.. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I failed as a daughter, I wouldn't wish this on you nor any other mother and I- fuck- I'm sorry".

//

Clarke felt the delicate fingertips trace her skull.

However as Niylah's fingers worked their magic, Clarke couldn't suppress the stray thoughts that crept into her mind. The thoughts that couldn't help but imagine that those fingertips belonged to someone else.

Clarke felt like a hazy film was veiling her vision and overall awareness. The soft whisper of Niylah's offer to make tea barely registered, and Clarke could only manage a nod as her head slipped from Niylah's lap when the girl rose.

Her phone had been buzzing constantly throughout the night, and Clarke, assuming it was Lexa, had been reluctant to check. Another buzz broke through the silence, making her finally pick up and glance at her phone. It wasn't locked.

"Miss you already, sexy. Can't wait for your next visit."

The message sent a shockwave through her entire being, a shiver ran down her spine. Confusion clouded her vision, and she blinked several times, trying to clear her focus. The sender's name read 'Octavia.'

Who the hell is Octavia?

A sudden surge of panic gripped the girl, it dawned that her phone was not hers, and the message wasn't intended for her. 

"Oh! Clarke!"

Clarke sat up and turned to look at her wife, suddenly, more tears fell down her cheeks.

Technically, she knew it wasn't right to lash out at her cheating wife.. I mean.. For obvious reasons. But she just felt so incredibly beat down already and this was just.. the cherry on top.

"Let me expla-"

"Don't, Niylah. It's.. I need to go"

"Clarke what?"

"I-"

And she was out the door.

//

Clarke wandered through the city under the glow of streetlights, lost in the labyrinth of her thoughts. Time blurred, the city sounds becoming a distant hum as she navigated the same old streets.

Her restless feet brought her to a place that had once been a sanctuary for her troubled soul, the warm glow of the library made her eyes light up. The flicker of comfort touched her heart, and without conscious thought, she decided to step inside.

As the library's doors swung open, Clarke found herself enveloped in the familiar scent of aged books and the hushed ambiance that had always offered peace to her. It was empty at this hour.

She moved through the aisles, fingers lightly grazing the spines of books.

In the quiet corners and dimly lit reading spaces, Clarke hoped to escape the chaos of her emotions, if only for a fleeting moment. The library, her sweet old friend.

...

"Clarke?"

The voice made her stomach drop.

"No."

"Cl-"

"No. No, no, no" she repeated.

She turned around and saw the all too familiar figure sitting in the corner, reading the lost flowers of Alice hart by the loft.

"I-"

"No!" 

Clarke's heart pounded.

She carefully walked with slow, deliberate steps towards her, still cautious, still fucking terrified.

"Who are you?" She didn't care at this point, she needed answers, now.

"Clarke- I, Lexa"

"Yeah? Lexa?" she wasn't buying it.

"I can explain"

"Explain what? How you have my book? How you showed up at all my places out of nowhere? Have you been stalking me, Lexa?"

Clarke was crying.

And so was Lexa.

"It's not like that!"

"Then what is it like!?" She yelled through tears.

"I-"

"God. Are you dangerous? Are you a kidnapper? A killer? I know you're a stalker. I know you're fucking twisted, was this all your plan?" Clarke was coming closer and closer.

"Clarke, back away". Lexa warned.

"So you are dangerous?"

"No! You're fucking scaring me!" Lexa retorted.

"I'm- I'm scaring you!?" Clarke chuckled, "Don't you think I'm fucking terrified?! Will I ever get to live without you knowing every step I take?"

Lexa couldn't talk. The words wanted to spill out, but couldn't. "It was fraud-" she was interrupted.

"God.. you make me feel stupid, you know? I thought it was fate. I thought we were meant to be. I thought it was a sign.. Turns out you're just fucking mental". Clarke's cheeks were red hot.

"Please Clarke".

"Please what?!"

"Don't talk"

Clarke scrunched her brow and frowned.

Lexa swallowed and looked up slowly, carefully trying to catch Clarke's gaze.

"You saved my life".

Clarke didn't talk. She just looked utterly confused at the words she was hearing.

"I was in prison. Clarke. And your book, your notes it- I, you saved me".

Lexa didn't know what to expect, but it definetly wasn't Clarke smiling, actually, bursting into laughter. She nodded.

"Oh, that's awesome." She chuckled, sarcasm dripping from her every noise "I 'saved' you? Jesus, what a cool way to repay me! Ruining my life, really!?"

Lexa gulped.

"Do you understand that, Lexa? Or do you have a fucked up meth brain or whatever you did, I don't even want to imagine what you're capable of. How will I ever trust again?!" 

...

"I hope you're miserable, truly"