They've been broken up for two weeks. Two weeks, and Clarke's still not over Lexa.
She knows she doesn't have any right to miss her. She's the one who ended it, after all. Lexa had wanted to try, she had wanted to fight, but Clarke was so tired.
She still is so tired.
But it was easier when Lexa was around. At least then, they could be tired together.
"I dreamt about you last night," Clarke blurts out as soon as the brunette picks up the phone.
A pause. Then, a confused voice speaks. "Clarke?"
"I'm sorry, I–"
"Clarke, are you drunk?"
"Maybe a little," she replies. Her words aren't slurring, but she has probably had a bit too much whiskey.
There's a sigh on the other line, and then Lexa speaks again. "I'm coming to get you." Click. She's gone, just like that.
Clarke curls up in a ball on the bench outside her favorite bar, Grounders. She doesn't bother to ask how Lexa had known where she was when the brunette pulls up in her car.
They know each other too well.
"Get in the car, Clarke."
She doesn't hesitate to stand and scramble into the vehicle. Her eyes can't quite meet her ex-girlfriend's – even drunk, she knows she shouldn't have called.
"I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking."
"Why did you call me?"
"I miss you. I know it was my fault, but I–"
Lexa raises a finger to silence Clarke before she can make an even bigger fool of herself. The blonde is grateful for it.
"It wasn't your fault. It was both of our faults... I shouldn't have let you go so easily."
"I never should have left."
"You were hurting."
"So were you."
"She was your best friend, Clarke. You were hurting more."
"I still shouldn't have left, I was just... I was so tired, Lexa. I'm so tired." Her voice is soft, almost a whisper. Had she not been listening, Lexa might have missed it.
The admission is so honest that it takes the brunette by surprise. "I'm tired too, Clarke."
"I know, Lex. I know."
"I miss you."
"I miss you too."
"Why are we doing this to ourselves?"
"I don't know." Clarke sighs, tears in her eyes. She's drunk and emotional, but they both know she'd be saying these same things sober. "Raven would kill us if she could see us now."
Lexa laughs, but there's no mirth behind it. "Yes, she would."
"I don't expect you to forgive me, or even want me back, but I–"
Once again, Lexa interrupts. "I want you back, Clarke. I'll always want you – but let's talk about this when you're sober, yeah?"
She wants to protest, but she just nods her head. "I'll always want you too, Lex," she whispers, and then, somehow, she's asleep in the passenger seat of the car.
Lexa doesn't leave, even after half carrying, half dragging Clarke upstairs to her apartment. She still has a key; Clarke never asked for it, and she was too hurt to give it back.
She hesitates for a moment before taking Clarke's pants off so that she's not stuck in the same tight jeans all night. After all, she's seen it all before, and she knows Clarke won't care.
She leaves the shirt alone, however, before helping the blonde under the covers. She grabs water and aspirin and sets it down on Clarke's nightstand.
She debates leaving, but only for a brief second. Even if she wanted to go, she couldn't leave a drunk Clarke alone.
Lexa stays, hoping that Clarke still feels the same when she wakes up and has a clear head.