Soil, Soil
The wait, relentless and constant, feels like agony coursing through your veins. It's been three days. 75 hours if you're being specific. 4500 minutes. Each and everyone of them spent with one question in your mind: How?
How, really can summarize the situation. How did you get to this point? How will you be able to salvage this? How did you let yourself fall in love with Octavia Blake? Well, there is no fucking answer to this question, and still, you rack your brain, you calculate, you decipher, analyze, investigate. You can't trace back the moment you lost your heart to the fiery brunette.
Well, actually, if you're being completely honest, you can. You can remember the exact second, many many years ago, when lightening struck and bright light illuminated you. Ultimately, it all comes down to this very moment, that lead you here, wandering your appartement aimlessly, waiting and waiting and waiting for the phone to ring.
How did I let myself fall this hard for Octavia?
You smile sadly as your mind takes you back to that fateful monday morning, first day of junior year, beginning of the rest of your life. You were walking to your first class of the year, excited and nervous, young and innocent. Now, you're not going to lie, you were pretty popular, and innocence had nothing to do with that. But the façade had to be maintained. It still does.
You reveled in the feeling of power, but melted at the simplest of gestures. Your heart is the kindest and that's why it must be guarded carefully with high built walls that are not that hard to break. Because one look was all it took for them to fall. You crossed the threshold of your chemistry class, and she was there. Sitting in Clarke's usual place, back row, besides the window. But Clarke wasn't in your chemistry class this year. You weren't assigned with a lab partner yet. It was all new and fresh and you young. You scanned the room, and of course, there were very few opened spots left, and it's not like you really wanted to be partnered up with Murphy.
You made your way, heart thumping, stomach low, weird feelings of palpitation inside of it. You knew fairly early you were into girls, in fact, you remember when you used to have innapropriate dreams about Clarke's mom but you labeled that as "shit-my-subconscious-made-up-that-are-totally-not-accurate". Then one day you decided to not label them at all and just enjoy them whenever they came (and that was fairly often, mind you).
So, advancing towards this goddess of a girl, all strong jaw and muscular stature, you felt your composure crumble, your walls shake, your chest opening and expanding, filling itself with adoration and love and that also meant vulnerability, and weakness. You had to overplay it, you had to be crude and defensive, and play it cool. And play it like you didn't care. Play it like she was just like all the others when in fact, she was just unlike anything you'd seen.
"Hum, are you going to sit?" She asked you when you stood beside the table a little too long. Alarms went off in your ears.
"I will, beautiful, I can't not sit beside a gorgeous girl when I see one." You had said throwing your best overly charming smile. Guard up. Guard up.
"Wow."
"I know, the smoothness in me does that sometimes."
"No I meant wow, I'm wondering if you know how bad that line is." And that, ladies and gentleman, was how you knelt down in front of this mystical creature and ripped your own heart from your chest, promising that it would be hers forever.
"Now, now, don't be rude on me, girl, I can definitly up my game for you."
"Are you going to sit anytime soon, or do you like it up there where everyone can see you making a fool of yourself?"
You looked around and noticed that the class was, in fact, quiet and several pairs of eyes were on you.
"Yes, pleave Raven, take a sit so I can begin my class." The teacher had said to avoid the blank that followed, drowning you in utter shame and mortification. You never let it show, and thus began the story of you and Octavia.
How did I let myself fall this hard for Octavia?
You're in the kitchen, now, asking yourself over and over. You hate the silence, you hate the small noises that break it, they're never going to be the sound you want to hear. Several more minutes pass and you are unable to do anything. You sit, look out the window. Wait. You walk around, try to eat, can't. And wait. You go to bed, try to sleep. Can't. So you wait. There is still no sound to be heard, and you almost don't dare breathe in fear that it might be too loud, and prevent you from hearing anything else.
Still, you remember, and wonder, how early annoyance and disdain turned into friendship, sleepovers and girls nights. You curl on the floor and close your eyes. Instantly, you're brought back to the shifting moment, what actually changed the course of your life.
It was a rainy day, really, pouring like anything you've ever seen. School was over for the day and you were glad for the comfort and dryness of your car. However, halfway home, a petite silhouette stood out, hammered by the drops of water, mercilessly crashing on her face and clothes.
You knew it was her, Octavia Blake, resident badass of your heart. You slowed the car and opened the window, cursing at the water that immediately started invading the inside of your car.
"What you doing in the rain, pretty girl?" But she didn't answer, just walked.
"Come on, get in, I'll give you a ride."
"I don't need you." She said, and turned towards you. Drops of water dripping down her face, hair soaked, frown deep and accusatory, lips a worrying shade of purple.
"Look, I'd rather go home on my own too but I don't want to be responsible for the Earth population loosing one of its finest woman."
"Are you serious right now?"
"Okay I'm sorry, just get in, will you? I'm not kidding, I'm not letting you go home in this weather."
"Aren't you afraid I'm going to ruin those nice leather seats?"
"Please, those seats have known much wetter than this."
She shook her head in disbelief, wide eyes but a smile played at her lips and maybe you cracked the walls a little.
"I can't fucking believe." She had said, but climbing in anyway.
"Where to, my lady?"
"Oh my god, don't you ever stop?" But her smile was a little bit bigger and something has shifted in the dynamic.
"Being smooth and charming? Nah, it just comes naturally, can't help it."
"You really are something else."
"Wow, now, is that a compliment?" You asked with a fake gasp of schock. To which she had just answered, "I haven't decided yet."
And, as you turned the heat on, searching for something to listen, your heart warmed with the strange sensation, that maybe, you could let you guard down just little bit.
"So I hope maybe this song will make up your mind."
And when the firsts notes of The Cure song Underneath the Stars started filling the atmosphere, she turned to you, all wet hair and bright eyes, and said "It just might, Raven Reyes." And thus began the story of acquaintanceship turning into friendship.
How did I let myself fall this hard for Octavia?
The night is falling upon you now, hours pass, they feel like years. You're in the dark, but deeply unaware of the change in the light, of the change in temperature. The wait is consuming your every thoughts. The wait is unresting. Harrassing your emotions, preventing your mind to focus on anything else than you, you and her. Her. Her. Octavia.
The floor has become your home and, you've accepted it as your haven.
Laying on it you allow once more the memories to emerge.
You go back to this place of paradise, this bittersweet memory of when you got a taste of heaven. How it was the first and last time you got to taste it.
High school came and went. Soon it was summer before college, Octavia, Clarke and yourself were ready to conquer New York City. NYU for the three of you, so of course it was only natural that you chose to all live together. The night you all moved in, in the 3 bedrooms appartment, was a night of celebration. Celebration of a new life to come, new beginnings, change, independancy. A night dedicated to moving forward and sticking together through it all.
So, when you found yourself pressed against Octavia's body, in a sea of sweaty bodies cramped up in a small Brooklyn club, you truly wondered what you did so right in this life to deserve to experience such a feeling. Clarke was off talking to a long haired guy, too engrossed in her own conversation to notice. Not like you would have given a fuck. You were set on enjoying the feeling as long as you could, the feeling of her ass grinding into your front, deliciously moving to the beat of the music. One hand grabbing your neck from behind, the other holding one of yours, travelling over every inch of her body that she judged appropriate. There were a lot of places.
A lot of places that wouldn't be normally considered appropriate. But here, hidden by the mass of bodies, pretending to be alone, pretending to be invisible, conventions and rules had been forgotten.
The events that led to you sharing Octavia's personnal space in such an intimate way were blurry, completely lost on you, the alcohol tricking your mind into forgetting how it all happened. You vaguely recall drinking shots of tequila, champagne, pushing people to make your way at the center of the dancefloor, Octavia holding your hand, and the rest is mystery.
You weren't one to complain, and you just let yourself live in the moment. That meant pressing your mouth to her neck, feeling her skin with your lips, knowing the taste of it. That meant getting to know the feeling of her hips in your hands, the softness of her curves, the ones she allowed you to touch when she slipped the tip of your fingers beneath her shirt, teasing you to touch but not yet explore.
Your senses were in overdrive. The smell of acohol, perfume and shampoo and something so singularly Octavia. Strong, yet calm. You inhaled it, breathed it in, filled your lungs with a little bit of her. The view the angle provided was a sight of pure sin, blackening your eyes. And soon, your mouth became jealous and wanted to feel more, to know more, to experience more.
So experience it did, and when it opened, and your tongue trailed a path up her neck to the base of her jaw, sharp and defined, your ears finally got to know what perfection sounded like, as a moan, low, husky, dark and raspy ripped from her throat and resonnated all the way through your body.
Her head had turned, and the hand at the back of your neck had pulled you in almost instantly. Lips had collided, languidly, deeply, mouths had opened and breaths had been exchanged. You couldn't believe you were kissing Octavia Blake, in the most sensual and arousing way possible. You fell in love all over again.
The tangible feeling of her lips against yours had you moaning loudly, a sound she swallowed greedily, pressing against you harder, fuller. Without ever breaking the kiss, she turned around, coming closer, and closer, your bodies perfectly fitting and moving to the beat of the song. The deep rhythm dictated your movements at first, but in the most subtle ways, hips started to touch, legs slipped in between thighs, and grinding occured.
Nobody seemed to notice the changes, there were too many people, too lost in their world, too wasted or simply too uncaring to pay attention. You created a whole world within a world, where only the two of you existed and this was the only reality you were willing to accept. You reveled in the warmth, the heat, the feeling of strong muscles against you, delicate and substancial friction that sent you into a frenzy. You held onto her, drunk on her breathy moans, soft nails clawing at the back of your neck.
You were so close, no air remained between the two of you, and you were suffocating, seeking refuge inside her neck, biting, licking, kissing, breathing. You were turned on beyond belief, the situation too lost on you, making you that much more aroused. You reached to grasp her more tightly, unwilling to let her go, wanting to keep her here every hour of every day.
"Fuck, Raven, what-" The rest of the sentence was cut short by a whimper and a sigh when you decided to be more forceful, to be more daring. The risk of litterally everyone seeing you was thrilling, rushes of adrenaline and pleasure coursing through you like a drug. Hands on her hips, you had helped her grind harder, still in the deep, slow rhythm of the music, feeling the heat on your thigh, and wanting to cry out in ecstasy.
Her breath in your neck, ragged and quick, was driving you crazy and when finally, with an almost unheard plea of your name, she tensed against you, waves of tremors rocking every part of her, your mind exploded and you nearly came yourself. Maybe you did. Alcohol stole the memory but you don't regret the lost knowledge. After minutes of still time and frozen features in shock, realization of what just occurred dawned on you.
You pulled back, looked into blackened and uneasy eyes, torn between not knowing what to say and wanting to say too much. When you were about to say it, when you wanted to declare it, made brave with the remnings of tequilas and adrenaline, when the words "I wanted this for so long" where about to come out she stepped back, a hand slipping in black hair, said "I need a breather", turned around, and left you in the middle of a crowded sea. You've never felt more alone.
You didn't move and when Clarke finally found you to tell you that it was time to go home, home, a place you shared with Octavia now, you still weren't out of your daze.
"Raven, you okay? You look fucked."
"Like you wouldn't believe."
"What?!"
"I am fucked. In every possible way."
The following morning, she had awkardly laughed at you, muttering non-sense of "We were drunk" and "besides, best friends kiss sometimes, it doesn't have to mean anything", and you tried to drown the noise of your heart shattering with words of understanding, not mentionning that kissing was not nearly describing what happened in that club, and it was never spoken of again.
How did you get to this point?
In the dead of night, darkness painting shadows on your face, you're feeling directionless. And that's to be expected, you know that best. You don't know where you're going with your life from now on, the prospect of going to work, talking to people, having a day, creating memories, seems void if you don't have her to share it with.
You'll push through, you always do. You'll go on living, you'll make hard choices and take light decisions. You will live, you will be. But it'll seem dull and unworthy. Are you ever going to be able to forget her? Move on? If the phone never rings, are you going to tear the pages of this chapter of your life? What will be left of it then?
And you remember, that despite everything you went through, you were never quite able to move on, and forget.
In seconds, you're back to the first summer of college, when finals had been over, warm weather had been unbearable and you were chased away to the beach, needing vacations. A new group of friends had formed over the year, people from your classes were introduced and the circle expanded. You had brought Lexa and Monty, Clarke had brought Finn, Wells, and Nathan, and Octavia had brought Lincoln and Jasper. The ten of you formed a happy family sometimes joined by Bellamy.
All of you were enjoying the orange light of the fading sun, warmed, sun kissed skin and light hearts. You were sitting on the sand, watching your friends be happy, watching Clarke and Lexa running in the water, laughing and being carefree, deep hidden desire cloaked behind subtle glances and shy smiles. You watched Bellamy, Monty and Jasper eating junk food, playing cards, and Finn and Wells singing and humming, guitars in hands, Nathan swimming like an athlete.
You were awestruck by the beauty of the scenery, you were striken by the feeling that life was good, that they were your people, your crooked family, content with being a spectator to this scene of pure perfection. It inspired you to get up, and search for Octavia. You had a million thoughts to share with her, beginning by the one of your raging love. Life could be good to you. Life could give you things when you allowed them to happen. The picture in front of you was blatant proof: Happiness was a possibility.
So, soft sand under your feet, you turned and approached Octavia, talking to Lincoln, distanced from the crowd of friends. You stopped dead in your tracks, heart frozen, dread and fear and jealousy attacking you all at once when the tall boy leaned in and kissed your best friend, who returned the kiss, arms around his neck. A single tear slipped out of you almost instantly. It had said many things: Confusion, anger, disappointment, unfairness.
You blamed yourself for allowing hope into your heart. For thinking that maybe. Maybe nothing. You watched, heartbroken all over again.
"Are you ever going to tell her?"
You turned around at the sound of Clarke's voice. When she saw the tears she approached.
"Tell her what?"
"That you love her." You could just drop your eyes, and she added, softly, "Any fool can see that your heart belongs to her."
"It has for a long time."
"I know."
"I think I'm a little late." You gestured to the couple behind you probably still kissing sweetly.
"So? It's never too late to tell someone you love them."
You thought for a bit, and looked past her shoulders, to Lexa, softly singing while Wells played guitar, trying to teach her some chords.
"When are you going to tell her?" And she didn't need to look behind her to know who you were talking about. You and her always had that deep understanding, communication was always easy.
"It's not that simple, Raven. " She paused, "I'm with Finn."
"So?"
"I can't just throw my relationship with Finn out the window after everything we've been through. You should know that better than anyone Raven."
"Clarke, what happened between the three of us has nothing to do with Lexa. It's not fair to you to deny your feelings for that. It's not fair to him to make him believe he has a shot. It's not fair to her to make her see the love in your eyes and not feel it. If you love her you should tell her."
"I will if you do."
"It's not the same."
"Isn't it? The situation is really not that different."
"Yes but in my story, I am Lexa. I am the one who watches Clarke and Finn kiss, and I won't say anything out of respect. If she doesn't want to be with him and wants be with me, she wouldn't be kissing him."
"You forget the important point though." When you raised your brows she said, "Clarke is kissing Finn, that doesn't mean she doesn't want to kiss Lexa."
"In your story that's true. Who said in mine it was? Who said Octavia would want me like that? I can never be sure and I won't risk it. I can't tell her I love her and risk for our friendship to crumble."
"But maybe she's waiting for you to tell her. Maybe I would leave Finn if I really knew Lexa loved me back."
"Any fool can see that her heart belongs to you." When she smiled sadly, you added, "One of us can have what we want Clarke. Don't be a coward and tell her. Don't hide. Let yourself be happy."
"Don't you want to be happy?"
"I will eventually." She hadn't said anything else, there really wasn't anything to say. Later that week, when you were alone in your room, trying to process the idea of Octavia with someone else, trying to forget the time where you tried to move on with a long haired boy that ended up falling in love with Clarke, you sat at your desk and wrote. You wrote a letter adressed to Octavia, a letter that you burried under stacks of old stuff, swearing to give it to her one day. One day.
That day came six months later, the night of a new celebration. This one felt nothing like the first one. The first one celebrated you getting closer, living together, starting a new life side by side. This one celebrated her going away, her leaving, her commiting herself to someone that wasn't you, a diamond ring on her finger burning holes inside your chest. She was going to marry Lincoln, and the mere idea of that was crushing.
The night was spent at hers and Lincoln's new place, the one she had moved in a few days back. Everybody had celebrated, the whole gang, and there were a lot of broken smiles, some that had healed and some that never would.
When, at the end, only Clarke, Lexa, Finn and yourself remained, you clutched the enveloppe in your hands and convinced yourself to just give it to her. But first, you needed air, and took refuge on the balcony.
"What are you doing here? It's freezing."
"I needed to think."
"You and me both."
She stood next to you and looked up.
"How are you doing, Lexa?"
"Do you really need to ask?" Your heart broke for her, and for you, and for your common pain.
"She loves you, you know."
"I'm not so sure about that."
"Yes you are. Just because she hasn't said it, doesn't mean you don't see it."
"It's not that simple, Raven." And you wanted to laugh at their stupidness, at their foolishness. You wanted to scream at their stubbornness. If they only had had the courage to say it out loud. To tell each other. You gripped the letter in your hand harder.
"Why don't you fight for her if you know that she loves you and you love her back?"
"She should decide for herself who she wants to be with."
"Well, obviously she's not too good at it."
"Still, it isn't for me to decide. I will respect her decision."
"Even if you're both hurting?"
"I only want her to be happy."
"Wake up, Lexa, she's not." She had looked up with a look of anger then, but, quickly it had softened, replaced by sadness and longing, tiredness and turmoil.
"Who says I will make her happy?"
"Who says you won't?"
A small smile appeared on her face, and it gave you hope.
"I heard you and my sister aren't seeing each others anymore." She says after a bit.
"Anya and I are no longer.. "seeing" each other. No."
"It's a shame, she liked you."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be, I know what it's like."
"Yes but you two actually love each others, idiots."
"Octavia loves you."
"She's marrying Lincoln."
"Clarke is still with Finn."
And the heaviness of both your situations just became hundred times more heavier.
"What's that in your hand?" She had asked you, after moments of silence.
"My bravery." You breathed, looking at the letter. "The truth, the ultimate and only truth in my life."
"It's for her."
"Yes. That's my confession. Tonight I'm giving it to her, but not in the context I had hoped. I need to get rid of it for closure."
"Why don't you just burn it?"
"I need the words to remain."
"Why?"
"To remember that they were true once, to never forget that they existed. But I can't keep them with me, because they only keep reminding me that I love her."
"Isn't she going to read it?"
"No, she won't. I trust her. If I tell her not to, she won't."
"I admire you, Raven. I admire your courage."
"I'm hardly courageous. If anything I'm weak."
"Your love makes you strong and brave. Selfless. You're sacrificing your happiness for hers."
"You are those, too."
"Not tonight, tonight, you made me want to be selfish. Tonight I want to be weak and give in."
"You're not selfish if it means she'll be happy too."
She smiled and it was a little bit less sad, a little bit more hopeful than last time. Yes, you had hope for those two.
"Lexa, Clarke is going to say goodbye to Octavia, she wants to know if you want a ride?" Lincoln interrupted from behind you.
She turned to him then back to you, and said, eyes illuminated even in the shadow of the night "Yes, Link, I would be happy to catch a ride with her."
You stood and made your way for Octavia's bedroom, and when you had reached it, the door wasn't fully closed, so you heard clearly the voices of your two best friends speaking, even in hushed tones.
"I told Finn to go home without me, Octavia, he already left."
"And let me guess, Lexa is waiting for you in the living room?"
"Can we not talk about them? I came to say goodnight, and congratulate you again on your freaking wedding, and all I get is shit from you."
"Oh please, you and I both know you don't want me to marry Lincoln."
You guessed the sigh more than heard it but you knew Clarke like the back of your hand. It was there.
"Are you sure about this? I'm just concerned."
"We've already talked about it. I want this Clarke."
"But isn't it a little bit rushed? Don't you think you could-"
You interrupted them with a knock on the door, not thinking yourself capable of hearing more, and realizing snooping on other's people conversation was wrong anyway. Entering, you said, "Hey, sorry for interrupting." But you weren't.
"No it's fine, we were done." Octavia said, sharp and definitive.
"Right. I'm heading out."
"Lexa is waiting for you, she's saying goodnight to Lincoln." And you gave her the most pointed look you could give her. You tried hard to tell her that this was the night. This was their chance. Take it, you wanted to say to her. Take it hard.
"Alright. Thanks. Bye."
With a last hug to you both, she left, and you and the small fiery brunette were alone.
"What's up, Rae?"
"I just came to give you your engagement present."
"You already gave me one earlier."
"Yes, but this one is more symbolic."
"Okay..?"
You handed the letter then. Heart thumping, tears gathering.
"It's a letter."
"Who is it for?"
"You, hoe."
"Gee, thanks."
"I need you not to open it though."
"Well that's weird."
You swallowed nervously, still at the door, and thought of your next words carefully.
"This is the most precious thing I have in the world. And I want you to have it. I am giving you my entire and total trust. This is me telling you I will always be by your side, whatever choice you make, wherever you choose to go. This is me telling you that I entrust you with this piece of me, I need you to have it to understand how much you mean to me, and how much, even if we're not living together anymore, even if we get appart now that you're with Lincoln, you will always have a place in my life and my heart."
Tears had been streaming down her face. Yours too you think. It awfully felt like goodbye, and you both knew that, because deep down within yourself, you were both painfully aware of all the things unsaid. It was tearing at your hearts.
"But I need you not to read it. That is how much I trust you. I just need you to keep it safe, as a token of our friendship, that is like this letter. Unfading."
You wanted to scream at her that you loved her, to read the letter, to hold you, to kiss you again. Not to marry him, to run away with you. Your mouth were telling things but your eyes were saying others, and you knew she could tell, because she knew you. You wondered how much she was able to read you. How much she was aware of. If she knew you loved her like you do.
"Raven.. I don't understand."
"You can read it if I die." You said laughing.
"Nothing about this joke is funny."
"It's not a joke, if life pulls us appart, or if I die too soon, read it."
"Stop talking like that."
"Just promise me you will keep it, and realize how much me giving it to you means."
"I do."
She crossed the room and pulled you into her, and it once again felt awfully like goodbye. You hugged her with everything you had, you just knew that you had to be on your own for a while. The sound of laughter in the living room made you pull away, and then you heard the door closed and footsepts approaching the room.
"Call me, okay?" She had said, a small smile, letter tight in her hand.
"I will." But you knew you wouldn't.
When Lincoln entered, you muttered a goodnight and was out the door. When you exited the building, you heard voices. Familiar ones. Turning your head toward the sound, you saw the shadow of your two friends, one blonde and one brunette, close together.
".. don't we deserve better than that?"
And then, Lexa's figure approached Clarke's, and just before they were about to kiss, Clarke said, so soft you almost missed it, "I can't, not yet." And, when your friend made to pull away, the blonde only made her stay close, touching their foreheads together. "But soon. I promise. I want to be with you."
And, when two bodies embraced and fell into each other, fitting and creating a new home for the other, your soul felt void and abandonned. You were truly alone now. Teary laughs were let out, relief emanating. Joy, love, hope. It only made you feel deprived. You were disgusted with yourself for feeling like this when really, you were rooting for them, you should have been happy, that finally, finally, they pulled their shit together. Why couldn't it be you.
So you silently made your way, seeing your car parked not far, ready to cross the street to get to it.
And because you were watching them, you didn't see the lights, because you were listening to their laughter you didn't hear the car, but you felt. You felt the cold hard metal against your legs, and the emptiness beneath your feet when you were lifted from the ground. The last thing you remember is Clarke's voice calling your name and Lexa's face over you.
How did you get to this point?
You look down at your braced leg. A tear escapes you. The memory of the accident makes you shudder, and everything that happened afterwards. The hospital, the surgeries, Abby telling you your leg would never work again. Octavia at the side of your bed nights and days.
You sigh, the sun is beginning to rise, and another day in welcoming you. You don't want to live it. Not another one waiting for this phone to make a sound. And sometimes it does. You receive calls from Clarke, from Finn. From Lexa. Even one from Bellamy. But you don't take them. You don't take any other call, and just wait for the one.
When the sun is fully illuminating your room, you resume your reminiscing.
Throughout the recovery, Octavia had been awfully present. Awfully, because, when you left her appartement that night, you thought you were going to have a break. Not see her. Try and forget that you loved her with every fiber of your body, and craved every second of every day to touch her, kiss her, love her for the whole world to see. But no, you didn't get your break.
And you were angry. Angry at her, at yourself, at Clarke and Lexa. You were just angry all the time, angry that she was there all the time, and that you wanted her there, and that you loved her for it, but you also wanted her gone.
So, whenever she was at yours, which was all the fucking time, it wasn't comforting, and lighthearted. She helped, yes. But it was tensed. Silent. Quiet. Something was different, and you couldn't put your finger on it. Something was troubling her also, and you didn't know. And was too angry to care.
It was too often that you would mutter under your breath, "Don't you have a fiance to get home to?" or "I don't need you, Octavia. Why won't you leave me alone?" But each time, she just didn't say anything, helped you off the couch, to the bed, to the bathroom, bathed you and held you through your panic attacks and your crying without saying a word, until your leg healed and you were able to walk on your own. Never once did she complain, and she always came back, and stayed with you, more often than not, sleeping over at yours, either on the couch, sometimes with you, when you had a nightmare of cars crashing against your body.
She kept coming even when you could walk with crutches, then a cane, and helped you adjust to the brace. She was there for it all. And you hated her for it, because you loved her, you loved her, you loved her even more. It was beautiful, even if you hardly ever talked. She was there, and you loathed her. She was there and you loved her.
One morning, though, you were woken up by the sound of the key, and the violent slamming of the door.
"What the fuck? Octavia, what's wrong with you I was sleeping!" You had said once you found her pacing in the living room, face contorted in anger and veins popping from her neck.
"I don't care Raven, it's over, it's all over and it's your fault, my relationship is over."
"What are you talking about? Lincoln left you? Why? You're getting married in two weeks!"
"The wedding's off, Raven, there is no wedding anymore!"
"Why?"
"Because of you!"
"And why would it be my fault?!" You were screaming now, both of you.
"Were was I all these month?! I was with you, instead of planning my wedding, there is no wedding because I never planned it, and that is why there's never going to be one!"
"I never asked you to take care of me, I told you to leave me alone times and times again, don't put it on me that you avoided this wedding like the plague!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" She walked toward you, invading your personnal space. Your voices had dropped a few octaves, low and threatening.
"If you didn't want to get married, just fucking say it and don't blame me."
"Fuck you, fuck you and your letter."
"What does it have to do with anything?"
"Do you really think I can leave you, let you deal with this alone when you just gave me this, gave me this treasure? When you got ran over just at the freaking door of the house in which I had just moved in?"
You stayed silent. You didn't know what to say, the words said things you didn't know how to interpret, didn't want to interpret. Her voice was saying other things. Opposite things. You noticed with a cringe that she said house and not home.
"I don't want it anymore, you can have your stupid letter back."
"Are you being serious right now?"
She didn't say anything, just gave you the envelope, pushed it against your chest forcefully, and it made you tumble back, grabbing the wall for support because you were still unbalanced. When she turned around to leave, you just couldn't believe it.
"Don't come back here. I don't need you anymore. I don't need someone who thinks I ruined their lives."
"And I don't need you."
"Glad we could find some common ground."
When tears filled her eyes, you almost ran to her, grabbed her face and kissed her, and looking back now, you wonder just why you didn't. Some of them had spilt on her cheeks, and your heart still aches. She had left. Left you confused, misunderstood. You had a hard time grasping what just happened. You had a hard time just asserting that Lincoln left Octavia.
That she had walked out of your life, finally providing you with the much needed space. The break. It was there, it was real, it was now. And it was awful.
Two weeks without her had felt like two weeks in hell. You didn't want a break. You didn't want space. You just wanted her. For her to be back, and when you realized what had gotten you into this mess in the first place, you only thought of one thing.
How will you be able to salvage this?
That answer was very simple. So you drove to Clarke's place, and when the blonde opened the door, you greeted Lexa, your soul a little soothed when you saw them holding hands and silently retreating to their room. You knew the way, and knocked on the guest room's door twice, waiting for a sign, then entered.
She was reading, on the bed, pyjama's still on, hair pulled up in a messy bun, reading glasses on her nose. A sight of true beauty. A sight of perfection. As soon as she saw it was you, she got up though, facing you.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, not threatening, not mad, not angry. She asked sad, guilty, glad, even, maybe.
"I came to give you this once again." And you showed the now wrinkled enveloppe, Octavia's name resting gently on the top.
"Raven.."
"No, I want you to read it this time. Read it when I leave. Read it as soon as I cross the threshold. It holds the truth I could never say, it holds the answers to this mess."
"Raven, I'm so-"
"No, don't say it. I know. Just read the letter. I just can't not tell you anymore. It's just too painful to keep it in. It's not going away, it's never going away, and I need you to know."
She just stayed still, letter trembling with the force of her shaking.
"I feel like a fool, so I'm going to stop troubling you. If I die, or life get us appart, I more than anyone know it could happen, I want you to know these words were true. I want you to know they existed in this reality, and they'll never stop being true."
"Please."
"Call me. Read it, and when you're done, call."
She didn't say anything once more, and just cried silently, cluthing the letter desperately, watching you, words just at the tip of her tongue.
"I'll be waiting."
And with that, you left, never looked back, too much aware of the fact that it might be the last time you saw her, and that knowledge was devastating.
And that is how you find yourself, nearly four days later, curled up on your floor, waiting for the phone to ring. Four days feels like an eternity. You stare at the black screen for hours, hoping her face would light it up.
When it does, you're entirely unprepared, and almost miss the call. You answer it, shaking, afraid, excited. But your voice won't work, and you just wait for her to speak.
"I read your letter."
"What letter?" And you're thrown back to high school, to high walls around your heart because you don't know how to prepare for the next words that are going to be exchanged.
"Raven."
"Sorry."
"I don't know what to say, I'm surprised."
"No you're not."
"No I'm not." A pause, then "Why now?"
"You know why, Octavia. You do."
"Yeah.. But, had you done it before, things might have been different."
"How different? What about this "best friends kiss sometimes, it doesn't mean anything"?"
"What about the lame ass flirting you threw my way to prevent yourself from letting me in?" And, her point is so accurate that you don't have anything to respond. "I was scared. You were scared. We were stupid."
"And Lincoln?"
"I don't know. I thought you didn't want me. After the club.. Nothing happened again."
"Because you rejected me."
"I know, I'm sorry okay? I was in denial, I thought that if I tried hard enough, the feelings would go away. I was scared."
"What about now?"
"Now I'm not scared anymore." And in the silence that followed, you try to weight all that this sentence means. All that it could entail. All the things unsaid that hide beneath the words. Shivers run down your spine at all the possibilities. "Would it be okay if I read the letter out loud? I need the words to feel real. I need them to not only be true on paper."
"Do it."
"Octavia, if you're reading these words, it can only mean one of two things. It could mean that, first, I either gave it to you with hope, or second, I gave it with resignation. In both cases-"
"It means that I love you." You cut her, the words engraved in your memory, written inside your heart, easily remembered and forever true. "Octavia Blake, I am in love with you. There is no other way to put it. Simplest words don't exist. It is the simple, bared, and undeniable truth. I burn for you, I burn with a slow passion, unshed desire, sweet love. It has been that way since I walked in Chemistry class a fateful monday morning, and sat down besides the feisty and fierce brunette that had rendered me speechless.
I love you calmly, I love you like a spring night, gentle and forgiving, soothing you into the heat of the summer, preparing your for the summer storms. I love you strong and relentless, like the lightning, I love you softly, like gentle touches under tables, like brushes of lips against lips. I love you deep and sensual, like a dance shared in Brooklyn clubs, sworn to secrecy. I love you angry, resentful, guilty, jealous. I love you like that, I love you like this. There is a hundred ways to my love. It knows no form, no restraint, no obligations. It moves and shapes, accommodates,but never goes away, is never forgotten, never fires out. It is still there, days and nights, every second. Every minute. Every day.
I write these words with the knowledge that you are not mine, and might never be. I don't know how to accept that, but one day, I might have to. And if you never are, just know, that I have loved you, I will love you, with everything in me, it's unconditionnal, and selfless. Know that it was true. That my heart belonged to you."
You finish, tears hot against your skin. The words finally feel free, escape you, escape their prison, and you can finally breathe. You can finally breathe because you said them. There is a long silence, it stretches, allows you to catch your breath, her to stop crying.
"Lincoln didn't break up with me" She finally says.
"What do you mean, are you guys back together?"
"No, we're not. You don't get it. He didn't break up with me, because I broke up with him. I called off the wedding."
"Why?" You ask silently, angry, betrayed, but also relieved, happy, hopeful.
"Because of you."
"Gee, way to make me feel better."
"No you don't get it, still. I broke up with him for you, Raven. I broke up with him because I was suffocating, because I fell asleep at night and woke up in the morning in the wrong arms. With the wrong person."
"Why did you tell me it was him?"
"I was mad."
"At me?"
"At myself."She waits, and says, "I let you go that night, and I shouldn't have. I wanted you to stay, I knew you were saying goddbye and I was heartbroken, and I wanted to never let you do. But I did, I did let you go, and you lost your leg, and I felt guilty, angry at myself. I let Lincoln down, and you were angry, so I called it off, and blamed you because I was tired of blaming myself. But I couldn't tell you. I was a coward, and I should have told you, because I love you."
"Oh." And really, your heart is thumping against your chest, there is a loud beat in your ears, you're shaking, crying, smiling, breathing again. You're breathing again for the first time in 4 years.
"Can I come over?"
"Now?"
"I can't wait another minute. Can you?"
"If I wait another second, I might die."