Lexa tried to control her gait as she made her way down the wide berth of the hallway. Her heart was thrumming in her chest and it felt as though she had a lump stuck in her throat. Were her hands actually shaking?
She almost felt trapped in a stupor. It brought her back to only a month ago when she had felt similarly dazed, after spending several glorious minutes with Clarke beneath the stairwell during the Yule Ball. Two months before that, she was alone and cold after winning the first task, her lips warming with friction against Clarke's in the Champions' tent. Before that, she only knew of Clarke from various newspaper clippings and theories of the Order. She knew of her name, and she knew what her admittedly pretty face looked like. But it wasn't like this. She didn't know the warm sky-blue of Clarke's eyes, didn't know the way her brows arched when emotions were spilling inside her, didn't know the way her voice took on that hard commanding tone when she was angry, didn't know the way she so often toyed with the old golden watch around her wrist when she was distracted or agitated, didn't know how her laughter at the table with her friends in the Great Hall seemed to somehow brighten the sky in the ceiling, didn't know that Clarke tasted even sweeter than the chocolate they were always sharing—
Lexa took a deep breath and let it rattle from her lungs and out of her lips, heart thrashing as she spied the Room of Requirement starting to bloom into being before her. She wanted to glance behind her, but she wouldn't let herself. She was afraid that if she did, she would somehow jinx it, and Clarke wouldn't come.
She wasn't letting herself overthink this, either. Overthinking was all Lexa ever did. Clarke was like her safe haven, the one person she could let her guard down around. The one person who made her think maybe there is more to life than war and the role Lexa had to play in it.
She hadn't yet reached the door when Clarke arrived. Lexa felt her presence before she heard her. She turned round, heart thumping and mouth dry in anticipation, stomach tight and coiled, skin tingling. Only moments ago Clarke's fingers had been drifting across her...
Was this wise? Did she have the right to do this? To do something for herself, to sink into this when there were people counting on her?
Don't overthink this.
Fortunately, she didn't have to repeat the words to herself, because the instant Clarke rounded the corner, all thoughts flew out of Lexa's head.
Lexa kept her expression carefully blank, studying Clarke intently. Clarke did not say a word as she crossed the hallway, coming to stand directly in front of Lexa, so close their chests were almost touching. The tension in the air was beyond palpable—normally Lexa felt as though she were suffocating in it, but today, it energized her. Images flickered through her head; the tent, the ball, the forest. What difference did one more memory make?
Or maybe more.
Lexa held her gaze as she took a step into Clarke's space, reached forward, her arm brushing Clarke's waist as she opened the door. She moved her hand to rest on Clarke's hip, clutching onto her like a lifeline as she led her backwards into the Room of Requirement.
Clarke's lips were so soft and pink, and her eyes were dilated, black nearly overtaking sky blue. Finally inside the room, Lexa maneuvered her foot back, slow and a little clumsy considering she was distracted by the way Clarke's eyes were dropping to her lips.
"This means something," said Clarke in a hushed voice, eyes widening slightly as though she couldn't believe she said it.
Lexa swallowed, noting the way Clarke had grown stiff in her arms, the anxiety written all over her face. Her heart felt lodged in her throat.
