She’d spent the last six days going over this moment. Memorizing and choreographing what she’d say and exactly how she’d say it. Because while she’d made an absolute idiot out of herself in every imaginable way the week prior, there was little that ever stopped her when she felt this specific kind of steeled determination.
Because Clarke was sweet.
And she was funny.
And she was, pathetically, the first friend Lexa had made in longer than she was proud of.
At least… Lexa hoped she could call her that.
If she hadn’t ruined it already.
But even if she had, through her awkward bumbling and constant missteps, Lexa was still determined to at least try to fix the entire mess she had made.
The fact was, she couldn’t keep going like this. Walking around with this nagging weight hanging around her neck. Spending day in and day out replaying every interaction in her head.
And she got it. She honestly did. She understood why Clarke had taken the step back that she had. She understood why Clarke barely asked questions anymore and why she hadn’t dropped by her office in days.
Two lonely lunches alone had been more than enough to drive the point home.
Lexa had fucked up.
She could own that. How she’d let her own personal idiocy get in the way of the first person she’d felt drawn to in ages. How her inappropriateness and subsequent flailing would’ve confused any person with a functioning brain.
But she could handle this. She could salvage this friendship without making an even bigger disaster out of this mess.
So she’d determined to do the only reasonable, logical thing a one could do in such a situation.
The World Had Less Color Without You by dreamsaremywords
A week passes and alcohol is brought into the mix.
She and Clarke are supposed to be lost in Google Docs right now, editing their project and suffering aching headaches from the stress and the strain of their eyes focusing on computer screens for too long. Instead, their heads are spinning and the room is spinning and they are both lying spread-eagle on the floor, an empty bottle between them.
“You should have glow in the dark stars,” says Clarke in a hushed voice.
Lexa blinks up at the ceiling. She’s not sure what Clarke is talking about. She never bought any glow in the dark stars but she is fairly certain there are still stars blinking at her. Her head rolls as she looks at Clarke and sees even more stars in her eyes, entire galaxies devoid of color lost in the gray irises. She thinks. Maybe. It’s like the stars on her ceiling. There are none there, she knows that, but she blinks and—maybe. And Clarke. Clarke’s eyes are gray. Everything is gray. Lexa knows that, but she blinks and sometimes she thinks she catches a shade. Blue. Or gold framing her head, like a halo except… Or pink, like her lips are bruised by the ghost of kisses that never happened. That maybe Lexa wants to happen. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t want to know. She tries not to think about it.
They fall asleep with space between them and Lexa wakes up with Clarke’s hair in her mouth and her hand on fire, arm numb beneath Clarke’s body, wrist bent at an awkward angle as Clarke clutches it tightly to her chest. Maybe Lexa can feel her pulse. Maybe Lexa caught a glimpse of sunlight. Maybe Clarke’s hair is blonde.
She blinks, her heart stopping.
No, it’s not. It’s gray.
Maybe Lexa still dreams in color sometimes.
Soulmate AU where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate. Clarke has only ever seen in black and white…or so she says. When Lexa loses Costia, she also loses the ability to see in color. She thinks she’ll never see again, but then a very pretty girl is assigned as her partner for her group project, and suddenly she can see snatches of blue and gold and other colors no matter how hard she pretends she can’t…
Or: Lexa and Clarke are hopelessly in love and absolutely full of bullshit (and pizza, and donuts, and utter gay thirst)
