( a half-hearted cop-out. she should bring her guilt and reservations to the surface in a proper discussion with lexa, clarke knows this. and yet every time she looks at the other woman, the words get stuck in her throat; pushed to the darkest recesses of her mind in favor of just appreciating her existence and allowing her heart beat an uneven rhythm in her chest. because, yes, this was a second chance. but clarke was continually waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this peaceful coexistence between the two of them to crumble in the same spectacular nature it had back home. maybe she didn't want to hear lexa's answer to that question, for fear of it contradicting or complimenting her own.
the problem with loving someone, losing them, and finding them again was — you knew what losing them felt like. that isn't a feeling one could so easily shake.
and yet, clarke tries. clears her throat, sniffs; like those two composing sounds would mask all the overflowing sorrow in her heart. there is the urge to be useful, to use her hands and her brain for anything other than dwelling on this sudden and unwelcome swell of feelings. )
no subject
( a half-hearted cop-out. she should bring her guilt and reservations to the surface in a proper discussion with lexa, clarke knows this. and yet every time she looks at the other woman, the words get stuck in her throat; pushed to the darkest recesses of her mind in favor of just appreciating her existence and allowing her heart beat an uneven rhythm in her chest. because, yes, this was a second chance. but clarke was continually waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this peaceful coexistence between the two of them to crumble in the same spectacular nature it had back home. maybe she didn't want to hear lexa's answer to that question, for fear of it contradicting or complimenting her own.
the problem with loving someone, losing them, and finding them again was — you knew what losing them felt like. that isn't a feeling one could so easily shake.
and yet, clarke tries. clears her throat, sniffs; like those two composing sounds would mask all the overflowing sorrow in her heart. there is the urge to be useful, to use her hands and her brain for anything other than dwelling on this sudden and unwelcome swell of feelings. )
( Early tomorrow, got it? )