THE 100 IMAGINES

[OB] Not A Game.

     There was a tight pain in your chest and it seemed to only grow worse as the seconds ticked by. From a distance, one that Octavia had put between the two of you herself, you could see that she was leaning against one of the support beams to one of the market stalls. The pain grew worse as you saw her hand move a piece of hair from the other girl's face, and behind her ear, while they laughed together. They stood close enough to each other where if one were to whisper, the other would still hear them clearly. That had been the two of you only a few weeks ago before Octavia seemed to drop you from her life without any warning. You couldn't help but wonder what it was that you did wrong, you thought everything had been fine, but clearly, it wasn't and you missed the sign somewhere along the way that would have warned you to back off just enough to ensure that she would still come back to you.

Maybe it was the fact you got too comfortable with her, having some part of your body touching hers as you stood next to each other, maybe she wanted space. Maybe it was the flirting, the constant comments between the two of you, maybe she didn't want to talk like that. Maybe it was how you always sat with her during meals, shoulder to shoulder, sharing food, maybe she wanted to sit with someone else. Or maybe it was the fact that your crush on her was beginning to become obvious, and maybe she didn't feel the same. The latter seemed to be the more likely of choices, or maybe it was all of them because whatever it was, it caused you to lose her. With a sigh, a deep one that caught Raven's attention away from what she was doing, you looked down at the table. Raven had asked you to help sift through pieces of scrap metal and parts for whatever it was that she was claiming to be either fixing or making from scratch. Her eyes shifted from you, over to Octavia, knowing that she was who you were looking at, and she scoffed, shaking her head as she continued to rummage through the scraps.

"You know you're going to have to get over her someday, right?" She asked without looking up.

"I just don't know what I did," you replied quietly, moving small parts into different piles.

"You didn't do anything," she reassured you, but you knew that she didn't really care that much as she continued, "hand me the other jar."

She held her left hand out while her right still sorted through one of the other jars already on the table. "I mean, I thought we were okay, we seemed to be okay," you spoke again, leaning over the arm of the small chair to pick up the jar that you placed into her open hand.

"Uh huh," Raven hummed as she 'agreed'.

"I just want to know what I did wrong."

Raven paused, looking back up at you. "Nothing. You did nothing wrong."

"Doesn't feel like that, Raven. It hurts," you argued, noticing her roll her eyes before she took the jar from your hand and poured small bolts into it.

"For now," she commented. "Look," Raven sighed and placed the jar on the table, resting her arms on her edges of the table as she looked directly at you, giving you her full attention. "If Octavia wants to act like a child then let her, she's not your problem anymore, you dodged a bullet, my friend." You furrowed your eyebrows at her lack of empathy. "We've all lost people, just be glad that she's not dead."

"Raven, I didn't mean it like—"

"I know that. But look at what she's doing to you." Raven tilted her head. "You barely sleep because you're stressing yourself out about what you did. You work twice as slow as you did before because you're too busy staring at someone who won't give you the time of day. And you're not letting yourself move on to someone better because you're moping over a child. Move on. Get on with your life. Be happy."