Felt angsty. Wrote an angst ficlet. Sticking it here so it exists without going on AO3. I gave it a hopeful ending and now I feel better.
“I love you.” She whispers it into the darkness after they’ve spent all evening in bed together. It’s the first time she’s said it. Lexa’s soft snores make her brave as she presses it into Lexa’s bare shoulder, scattering kisses over the bruises she had left on tan skin. Six months of quiet dinners and shared laughs and messy sex. She knew this was it for her. She knew she would be Lexa’s in any way Lexa would have her for the rest of her life.
“I love you,” she tells the mark on Lexa’s collarbone, the deep red beginning to tinge toward a darker hue. She always left her mark on Lexa, whenever Lexa would allow it. They had to stay where clothes would cover them, where Lexa could deny their existence as soon as she dressed. But on that secret canvas, Clarke wrote sonnets and painted galaxies.
“I love you.” Her words fall into the silence of the night, no less true for their lack of a conscious audience.
She doesn’t hear it back.
---
“I love you.” She states it with confidence a week later, no cover of darkness to hide her meaning this time. They’d just gotten back from dinner and Lexa was striding toward the living room, preparing to select the next movie in their long Friday night queue.
The soft look in Lexa’s eyes as she turns around spurs her on.
“I love you.” She repeats it, emphasizing each word with the truth and earnestness with which she means them.
She doesn’t bother deciphering if the look is care or pity.
She doesn’t want to.
She doesn’t hear it back.
---
“I love you.” She murmurs it into Lexa’s ear as Lexa impales herself on Clarke. She feels Lexa’s hips stutter, the rhythm breaking before picking up again.
“I love you,” she says again as Lexa orgasms, jerking her hips upward to coax Lexa through each wave.
“I love you,” she presses into Lexa’s hair as Lexa collapses, sweaty and spent and satisfied.
She doesn’t look at Lexa’s face.
She doesn’t hear it back.
---
“I love you!” She shouts it, jumping into Lexa’s arms and burying her face into the crook of Lexa’s neck. She doesn’t see Lexa’s expression. Most days, she won’t let herself see it.
She clings to the excitement, to the love and joy as Lexa spins her around, caught up in her own giddiness after such an accomplishment.
Lexa kisses her and it tastes like happiness and home.
“I love you,” she calls again as Lexa heads off for the after party. Lexa turns and waves, and she stares at Lexa’s smile — not her eyes. Never her eyes.
She doesn’t hear it back.
---
“I love you.” She mutters it, still a little grumpy after their fight, but she has her forehead pressed against Lexa’s and they’ve wiped away the tears again, eyes closed and breathing slowing. And she will always be Lexa’s in any way Lexa will have her for the rest of her life.
“I love you,” she sighs, finally relaxing the tension that seems more and more common these days as Lexa presses a soft kiss to her forehead.
She doesn’t hear it back.
---
“I love you.” She chokes it out. She knows it’s not enough. Not when Lexa’s bags are packed and she’s facing the door and Anya is outside with her truck.
She finally looks into Lexa’s eyes. She hadn’t in months. Didn’t want to. The softness is there again. It’s not care. It’s never been care.
“I love you,” she sobs as the door closes behind the only woman she will ever belong to — one that will never be hers.
She doesn’t hear it back.
---
“I love her.” She’s telling it to Raven over drinks. It’s been six months and four rejected blind dates. Raven had dragged her out, not letting her make one of her usual excuses.
Raven tries to comfort her, tries to get her drunk, tries to let her forget. She still goes home to their empty apartment. She still lays in bed, staring at the space where Lexa should be.
“I love you,” she tells the night once more. This time it’s not sleep that prevents the target from listening.
She doesn’t hear it back.
---
“I love you!” She’s screaming, red in the face, her hands coming up to shove against Lexa’s shoulders. How dare she come back here? How dare she ask what’s wrong?
“I love you!” It’s a response and a confession and an accusation all in one. It’s been nine months and it will never go away. She’ll be Lexa’s in any way Lexa would have her for the rest of her life. Even if the way was nothing.
She surges forward. She can’t help herself. She presses desperately into Lexa, kissing her like it’s her last chance. She knows it will be. She’s surprised to feel Lexa’s arms wrap around her.
“I love you,” she whimpers when she pulls away, not wanting to open her eyes but needing to see the soft look again. Needing to remind herself why this woman will never be hers.
The look is there. But it’s different this time. This time it has care and sorrow.
She hears it back.
