your hand in mine pt. II (clexa)

Chapter 4

I didn't get rid of that letter. That first letter I wrote to you? This is so weird. Talking to you like you'd actually read those. But I'll just pretend, for now. Pretend there can be a resolution to all of this. One day, we'll sit in front of your fireplace and I'll give you these letters and you'll read them while I'm next to you. Right now you're reading this exact sentence and pausing to kiss me, and... I feel so stupid writing this knowing that's not how it will go down. But hoping against all fucking hopes.

Anyway, I didn't throw that letter out. Initially, that's what I was going to do. Burning it seems symbolic, but I don't think I deserve that cleansing right now. I doubt I ever will. And God, I hate, I absolutely hate that I sound like a teenage girl with a crush. These words don't seem nearly enough, you know? I love you. I can't live without you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It's all so superficial once it makes it here, on paper. So small compared to what I'm feeling.

You haven't replied to my text. I know you saw it, but it's been four days and you're silent. And I think I know what decision you made, but I don't want to accept that. Not yet. Because back then, in that bathroom, I felt something and I know you felt it too. I can't imagine how bad you're hurting right now, and I don't know if you'll ever forgive me, but I know you still feel something. I saw your eyes. I tasted your lips. You would've had me right there if we weren't interrupted, and I know it would've been different. Or maybe I'm going insane. Maybe.

I don't know if I should fight for you, Lexa, even though I know there's still something left to fight for. I just. Do I deserve to have you back after what I've done? Even if you still want it, me, us, somewhere deep inside - do I deserve to have it?

I don't think so. I don't. But Lexa, if you choose to make a move, I'll be there. I'll always be there. Yes. I'm saying I will wait for you, however long you take. If you text me, even if it's to say goodbye, I'll tell you that I'm going to wait for you. Would that be manipulative? I don't know. I just - I just want you to know that I'll always be an option. No matter what happens. Because the thought of moving on honestly hurts more than the possibility, the very real possibility of never having you.

Love,

Clarke.

//

It takes Lexa several days to reply, but she does, and Clarke swears her heart has never beat this fast at the sight of a text. It leaps even higher when she reads what Lexa's written in response, palms sweating and the inside of her cheek bitten.

Clarke (Sat, May 13, 22:41): I'm making lasagna tomorrow.

Yes, not her proudest moment, but that was the most neutral thing she could come up with. And she really did make lasagna. Lexa loves her lasagna.

(She also definitely questioned if her weird message contributed to Lexa's silence. Maybe. Probably. But she still replied, didn't she?)

Lexa (Fri, May 19, 17:25): Is there any left?

(It seems so easy, so light, and Clarke can't shake off how wrong it feels for it to be this way.)

She doesn't wait before replying.

Clarke (Fri, May 19, 17:27): No, but I could make a new one?

Lexa, it seems, is also not in the mood for waiting.

Lexa (Fri, May 19, 17:29): Okay. I'll see you tonight?

Lexa (Fri, May 19, 17:29): Is that okay?

She almost drops her phone, and briefly contemplates whether absolutely is too desperate and does a simple sure sound too dry before quickly making up her mind.