Perfect Balance

    Back in her studio, Clarke tried to channel the energy from their impromptu lunch into her painting, but her usual focus felt elusive. Something about the day had thrown her off balance, and while she couldn’t pinpoint exactly what, the irritation she’d been battling since her weekend disruption lingered.

    Her new piece, a vivid landscape inspired by the coastline, was supposed to evoke calm and serenity. But her brush strokes were unsteady, her colors too harsh. She frowned at the canvas, shaking her head as if the motion could clear her frustration.

    Just as she was finding her rhythm, Mia, her part-time gallery assistant, popped her head in.

    “Hey, Clarke, quick question,” Mia began, holding a clipboard. “About the upcoming exhibit—”

    Clarke turned to her, trying to mask her irritation. It wasn’t unusual for Mia to ask questions or give updates, and Clarke appreciated her initiative. But today, every interruption felt like a pebble in her shoe—small but impossible to ignore.

    “Mia, I’m a little busy right now,” Clarke said, her tone sharper than intended.

    Mia hesitated, her expression faltering. “Oh, okay. Sorry.”

    The door clicked shut, and Clarke exhaled slowly, guilt tugging at her chest. She rubbed her temples, the familiar rhythm of her fingers tapping against her thigh—a tic that surfaced whenever she felt overstimulated—helping to ground her.

    Clarke leaned back against her stool, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She knew this feeling well—her therapist had called it “disrupted flow,” a state that left her agitated and unable to focus. She tried the grounding exercises she’d been taught, naming objects in the room, counting her breaths.

    Her mind wandered, unbidden, to Juno, the kitten she’d adopted over the weekend. A small smile tugged at her lips as she pictured Juno batting at the bottle cap on the floor that morning. Despite being a disruption to her carefully scheduled life, Juno had brought an unexpected sense of comfort.

    Then there was Lexa.

    Clarke frowned slightly, unsure why her thoughts kept circling back to Lexa. Their lunch had been pleasant—enjoyable, even—but Clarke wasn’t used to lingering on social interactions. She replayed their conversation, remembering the ease in Lexa’s tone and the warmth in her smile.

    Two disruptions in one weekend. Neither of them had driven her completely insane, and that, in itself, was remarkable.

    She shook her head, muttering under her breath. “Get it together, Griffin.”

    Just as Clarke was beginning to regain her focus, Mia knocked hesitantly on the door.

    “Clarke? Sorry to bother you again, but there’s a mix-up with the supplier—”

    Clarke held up a hand, cutting her off. “Mia, I really can’t deal with this right now.”

    Mia blinked, her cheeks flushing. “Of course. I’ll handle it.”

    The door shut softly, and Clarke immediately felt the sting of regret. She wasn’t angry at Mia, not really. It wasn’t Mia’s fault that her nerves were frayed.

    Clarke stood and walked to the window, staring out at the street below. The afternoon sun cast long shadows, and the faint hum of passing cars and pedestrians drifted up to her. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment before exhaling slowly.

    “Five things I can see,” she murmured, scanning the room. “Four I can touch. Three I can hear…”

    Her gaze landed on her phone, and before she could stop herself, she picked it up and scrolled to Lexa’s contact. She didn’t text or call, but the sight of the name felt oddly comforting.

    When Clarke finally returned to her canvas, the strokes of her brush felt steadier. She let her mind wander to thoughts of Juno, her soft purring and playful energy. She thought of Lexa, her calm presence and easy conversation.

    For the first time that afternoon, the irritation didn’t feel so overwhelming.

---
    The clock showed it was already 3 PM, and it  was time for Clarke to wind down and wrapped up her work.

    When Clarke washed and rearranged her brushes and other tools, she took a moment to reflect on her behavior. She’d been shorter with Mia than she’d intended, and the thought gnawed at her as she packed up her supplies. On her way out, she stopped by Mia’s desk, clutching the strap of her bag tightly.

    “Mia,” she began, her voice softer than usual. “I wanted to say sorry for earlier. I was... abrupt.”

    Mia looked up from her notes, surprised but smiling. “It’s okay, Clarke. I know you’ve got a lot going on. Don’t worry about it.”

    Clarke nodded, appreciating Mia’s understanding. Still, the guilt lingered. “Thanks. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

    Mia’s response was reassuring. “Seriously, it’s fine. You’re human. Even if you don’t always act like it,” she teased lightly.

    Clarke’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Yeah, well, I’ll work on that.”

---

    Around 4 PM, Clarke drove home as her schedule dictated, pulling into her usual spot and walking into her apartment. Juno greeted her at the door, her tiny tail flicking with excitement. Clarke crouched down, scratching behind the kitten’s ears before heading to the kitchen to prepare her food.

    “Hungry, huh?” she said to the kitten, who mewed in response. Clarke filled Juno’s bowl, watching as the kitten darted forward to eat. Afterward, she played with Juno for a while, letting the kitten bat at a dangling toy mouse. As Juno’s soft purring filled the room, Clarke felt herself relax more than she had all day. The rhythmic sound soothed her nerves, and she found herself smiling as she stroked the kitten’s fur.

    Dinner was always at 6:00 PM—simple, hearty meals. She decided to cook some pasta with some meatballs, simple and quick. Sitting alone at her table, she ate while scrolling through her phone, trying to distract herself from the thoughts swirling in her head.

---

    After finishing her meal, Clarke debated what to do with the rest of her evening. Normally, she would settle into her usual nightly routine—maybe read, sketch, or listen to a podcast. But the thought of the same monotony felt stifling. Without overthinking it, she picked up her phone and texted Raven.

    Clarke: Hey. You at the workshop?

    The response came almost instantly.

    Raven: Yeah. Why?

    Clarke: Coming over.

    The three dots blinked on the screen for what felt like a full minute before Raven replied.

    Raven: Wait. Seriously? You?

    Clarke: Yes, Raven. Me. Don’t make a thing out of it.

    Raven: Who are you and what have you done with Clarke Griffin?

    Clarke: I’ll be there in ten. Just act normal.

---

    When Clarke arrived at the workshop, she found Raven standing outside the garage, arms crossed and a bewildered expression on her face.

    “You’re actually here,” Raven said, watching as Clarke stepped out of her car.

    “Observant as always,” Clarke replied dryly, shutting the door with a definitive click.

    Raven smirked, her shock giving way to amusement. “You’re seriously throwing me off. First, you go all spontaneous and adopt a kitten that made a mess in your studio, and now you’re messing with your Monday routine? What’s next? Dancing on tables?”

    Clarke rolled her eyes, striding past Raven into the workshop. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I just needed a change of scenery.”

    Raven followed her inside, still grinning. “Yeah, well, I’m delightfully surprised! You showing up unannounced is like Halley’s Comet or some cosmic event. I’ve gotta document this.”

    Clarke turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “If you take a picture, I’ll delete it—and you—without hesitation.”

    Raven laughed. “Fair enough.”

---

    As Clarke leaned against the workbench, Raven tossed her a bottle of water. They chatted about Juno for a while, Clarke recounting the kitten’s antics from the weekend. Raven, however, couldn’t resist teasing her.

    “You’re really full of surprises today,” Raven said. “Speaking of which, I'm planning to visit O’s bar tonight. You in?”

    Clarke blinked at her. Normally, the suggestion would earn an immediate no. But for some reason, the thought of staying home felt stifling again.

    “Yeah, okay,” Clarke said, almost before she realized she’d said it.

    Raven’s eyes widened. “Wait—what? You? At O’s? On a Monday?”

    Clarke rolled her eyes, smirking. “Don’t make it a big deal. I could use a distraction.”

    Raven recovered quickly, grinning. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’m not complaining.”

    Clarke took a sip of water, letting the faint smile linger. Something about the shift in her routine, the spontaneity of the day, felt oddly liberating. For once, she wasn’t bound by her carefully constructed schedule. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

---

    The bar was alive with a cacophony of sounds: the overlapping conversations, laughter, the clink of glasses, and the low bassline of the music reverberating underfoot. Clarke felt the familiar tug of discomfort as she entered with Raven. It wasn’t overwhelming—yet—but it was enough to make her fingers twitch slightly as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

    They found a corner booth, Raven sliding in first. Clarke followed, grounding herself with the comfort of her best friend’s presence. She was just beginning to settle, her attention focused on the mundane movements of the bar staff, when Raven nudged her shoulder.

    “Hey, isn’t that…” Raven trailed off, nodding toward the entrance.

    Clarke glanced up, and her breath hitched slightly. Lexa had just walked in, accompanied by another woman with sharp eyes and a confident gait—Anya, if she remembered Raven’s occasional mentions correctly. Lexa’s presence was striking, as always, her steady demeanor making her stand out even in the bustling crowd.

    “Lexa?” Clarke said softly, half to herself.

    Raven smirked. “Huh. Small world. And you say you don’t believe in fate.”

    Clarke rolled her eyes but said nothing, her chest tightening slightly. It wasn’t just the noise this time—it was the sudden proximity of someone who, inexplicably, seemed to throw her off-kilter.

---

    As if sensing their attention, Lexa turned. Her gaze landed on Clarke, and her expression shifted—surprise flickering briefly before a warm smile took its place. She whispered something to Anya, then began weaving her way through the crowd toward their booth.

    Raven raised an eyebrow at Clarke, grinning knowingly. “You’re blushing.”

    “I’m not,” Clarke snapped, though she could feel the heat creeping up her neck.

    Lexa reached them just as Clarke’s retort hung in the air. “Twice in one day,” Lexa said, her tone light. “What are the odds?”

    “Small town,” Clarke replied, leaning back in her seat. Her tone was casual, but her fingers tapped against her thigh under the table, a faint sign of her nerves.

    Lexa nodded, her smile deepening. “Mind if we join you?” She gestured toward Anya, who was still at the bar talking to Octavia.

    Raven was quick to respond. “Not at all. The more, the merrier.”

    Lexa slid into the booth across from Clarke, her presence commanding but not overbearing. Clarke wasn’t used to having her space intruded upon twice in one day by the same person, but Lexa’s calm energy made it oddly tolerable.

    A few minutes later, Anya and Octavia joined them, carrying drinks and laughing at some shared joke. Anya’s eyes immediately darted to Clarke, curiosity sparking as she sat next to Lexa.

    “So,” Anya began, leaning slightly toward Clarke, “you’re the Clarke Griffin. The elusive artist Raven’s always raving about.”

    Clarke tilted her head, a dry smile tugging at her lips. “I guess that makes you the equally elusive Anya—the one Raven won’t stop complaining about when you steal all her blankets.”

    Raven groaned. “Oh my God, Clarke.”

    Anya smirked, undeterred. “Guilty as charged. But I’ve got to say, you’re not what I expected.”

    Clarke arched an eyebrow. “Let me guess—you were expecting someone broody and mysterious?”

    “Something like that,” Anya admitted, grinning.

    “Well, sorry to disappoint,” Clarke said, deadpan, before mock-gagging as Anya leaned closer to Raven with a playful smirk. 

    “Could you two flirt somewhere else? Some of us are trying to digest.”

    Raven laughed, throwing a balled-up napkin at Clarke. “You’re the worst.”

    “And yet you keep inviting me out,” Clarke shot back, smirking.

---

    The bar was alive with activity, but in the corner booth, the energy felt distinctly different. Clarke, who had been dreading the noise and bustle, found herself surprisingly calm as the conversation with Lexa and Anya unfolded. Lexa’s humor, dry and unforced, matched Clarke’s own, while Anya’s sharp wit rounded out the trio in a way that felt strangely balanced.

    Raven and Octavia observed from the sidelines, their amusement growing as Clarke began to loosen up. Clarke’s usual guarded nature seemed to soften in Lexa’s presence, and Anya’s blunt, no-nonsense attitude was a refreshing contrast to the usual well-meaning pity Clarke often faced.

    “So,” Lexa began, leaning slightly forward with a small, teasing smile, “how’s the new roommate working out?”

    Clarke tilted her head, picking up on the playful undertone. “It’s... manageable,” she said, her tone measured.

    “Manageable?” Lexa repeated, her lips quirking. “That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.”

    Clarke smirked faintly, her bluntness surfacing. “It’s still new. I’m not used to sharing my space.”

    Lexa nodded thoughtfully. “You strike me as someone who values their personal space. I can’t imagine that’s an easy adjustment.”

    Clarke hesitated, then shrugged. “It’s not. But sometimes it’s good to break habits. Even the comfortable ones.”

    Lexa’s smile deepened. “That’s surprisingly philosophical for a Monday night.”

    Clarke raised an eyebrow, her voice deadpan. “You caught me on a good day.”

    Raven, watching the exchange, leaned over to Octavia. “Is she… flirting?”

    Octavia shrugged, whispering back, “I think that’s just Clarke being Clarke.”
---

    The conversation shifted to roommates and their quirks. Lexa shared an exaggeratedly dramatic story about her early days in college.

    “So there I was,” Lexa said, her tone mock-serious, “standing on the kitchen counter with a broom, trying to chase a bat out of the apartment. My roommate, meanwhile, was hiding under the table, yelling that I should just let the bat ‘manifest its energy in our space.’”

    Clarke blinked, caught off guard, before bursting into laughter—a rare, genuine sound that filled the space around her. She laughed so hard that she had to press a hand to her side, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

    “You’re kidding,” Clarke managed between breaths.

    “I wish I were,” Lexa replied, her expression solemn but her eyes sparkling. “We eventually compromised by opening the window and leaving the apartment for three hours. The bat won that day.”

    Raven and Octavia exchanged looks, clearly amused and slightly perplexed by how relaxed Clarke seemed.

    “Did she just laugh?” Octavia whispered to Raven, mock-offended.

    “Not just laugh,” Raven whispered back conspiratorially. “That was a real laugh. The kind we thought was extinct.”

    Clarke, catching their quiet commentary, rolled her eyes but didn’t lose her smile. “Don’t make it weird,” she muttered, her tone fondly exasperated.

---

    Anya, who had been quietly observing, leaned forward. “So, Clarke, is this rare display of humor something I should be documenting, or is it a fluke?”

    Clarke shot her a look, her sarcasm sharp as ever. “Oh, it’s definitely a fluke. Better write it down before it disappears forever.”

    Anya smirked, raising her glass. “Noted. Though I have to say, I see why Raven talks about you so much. You’re… interesting.”

    “Interesting,” Clarke echoed, her brow arching. “Is that a polite way of saying ‘weird’?”

    “Maybe,” Anya said with a grin. “But don’t worry—I like weird.”

    Clarke narrowed her eyes mockingly. “Careful. Too much praise and I might actually start tolerating you.”

    Lexa chuckled, her focus shifting to Clarke with a quiet intensity. “I think ‘quirky’ is a better word,” she offered. “And quirks make people more memorable.”

    Clarke blinked at her, momentarily disarmed by the comment. It wasn’t pity or awkward sympathy—it was genuine. For once, she didn’t feel like she was being treated as fragile or odd.

    Just as Clarke was settling into the flow of the evening, a drunk guy stumbled over from a nearby table. He leaned too close to Clarke, his glass dangerously sloshing.

    “Hey,” he slurred, his eyes lazily raking over her. “Haven’t seen you around before. You wanna grab a drink?”

    Clarke’s good mood evaporated instantly, her irritation flaring. “Not interested,” she said curtly, leaning back to create some distance.

    The guy didn’t take the hint, his grin widening as he reached out to touch her arm. “Don’t be like that. Just one drink.”

    Before Clarke could respond, Lexa’s calm voice cut through the tension. “She said she’s not interested.”

    The guy turned, meeting Lexa’s gaze. Her expression remained composed, but the intensity in her eyes was icy, and the subtle steel in her tone made him falter.

    “Fine, whatever,” he muttered, retreating to his table.

    Clarke exhaled sharply, her shoulders still tense. “Thanks,” she said softly, not meeting Lexa’s eyes.

    “You don’t have to thank me,” Lexa replied gently, her voice low. “He had no right to bother you.”

    Raven and Octavia exchanged another glance, their curiosity growing. “What was that about?” Octavia murmured to Raven.

    “No clue,” Raven whispered back. “But did you see the way Lexa looked at him? She didn’t even need to raise her voice.”

---

    As the group resumed their conversation, Clarke’s mood slowly began to lighten again. At one point, while reaching for her drink, her hand brushed against Lexa’s under the table. The touch was brief but lingered enough to make Raven and Octavia raise their eyebrows in unison.

    “Interesting development,” Raven murmured.

    When Clarke finally realized, her cheeks burned, and she pulled her hand back quickly. “Sorry,” she muttered, suddenly hyper-aware of the contact.

    Lexa, seemingly unfazed, simply smiled, “No need to apologize.”

    Anya smirked, nudging Raven. “Are we seeing this?”

    “Oh, we’re seeing it,” Raven murmured, her grin widening.

    Octavia snickered. “Should we say something?”

    “Nope,” Raven whispered, watching the unspoken connection unfold. “Let them figure it out.”

    Clarke and Lexa remained oblivious, caught in their own bubble as the conversation carried on around them, continuing their discussion as if nothing had happened.

---

    The evening had been going surprisingly well—too well, perhaps. Clarke had even laughed, a real, uninhibited laugh that left her friends grinning like they’d witnessed something miraculous. But the bar wasn’t known for staying mellow, and as the night wore on, the atmosphere shifted.

    The crowd grew louder, the music heavier, and the clatter of glasses more abrupt. A group of rowdy patrons stumbled in, shouting and laughing inappropriately. Clarke was mid-sentence, talking to Lexa about an art exhibit she had visited, when the loud crowd burst through the doors.

    Her words faltered. She blinked rapidly, her breath hitching as her train of thought derailed.

    Lexa leaned forward slightly, her brow furrowing in concern. “Clarke?”

    Clarke clenched her jaw, willing herself to continue. “It’s… fine,” she muttered, the sharp edge in her voice betraying her claim. She turned back to Lexa, trying to refocus, but the shrill laughter from across the room made her flinch.

    Her fingers began tapping against the table in an erratic rhythm, her eyes darting toward the source of the noise.

    Raven noticed immediately, leaning closer. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the background noise like a lifeline. “Do you want to step outside for a bit?”

    Clarke hesitated, her jaw tightening as she struggled to push through the overstimulation. The flickering lights above seemed brighter now, their sharp pulses matching the erratic beat of her tapping. The voices around her blended into an overwhelming cacophony.

    Finally, she nodded stiffly, unable to find her voice.

    Octavia, catching on quickly, waved to her brother at the bar. “Bellamy, we need you to cover,” she said, not waiting for a response before standing to make way for Clarke.

    Raven gently guided Clarke toward the exit, her hand resting lightly on her friend’s shoulder, careful not to overwhelm her further.

    Lexa followed without hesitation, maintaining a respectful distance.

    Once outside, the cool night air wrapped around Clarke like a balm. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as she tried to steady her breathing. Her hands trembled slightly, and she rubbed them against her jeans to ground herself.

    Raven an Octavia stood nearby, a steady presence, but Lexa’s quiet support drew Clarke’s attention. Lexa leaned casually against the brick wall, her arms crossed, her expression calm but attentive.

    “Take your time,” Lexa said softly, her voice carrying an ease that didn’t demand a response.

    Clarke took another deep breath, letting it out slowly. Her shoulders began to relax, the tension draining with each exhale.

    “You’re not going to tell me to ‘shake it off’?” she asked after a long silence, her voice quiet but tinged with dry humor.

    Lexa shook her head. “No. Everyone needs space to breathe sometimes.”

    Clarke looked over at her, her lips twitching into a faint smile. The simplicity of Lexa’s words felt grounding in a way she hadn’t expected. “Most people don’t get that,” she admitted.

    Lexa shrugged slightly, her gaze steady. “Most people don’t know how to listen.”

    That struck a chord. Clarke’s usual irritation at being managed or coddled had been conspicuously absent tonight. Lexa wasn’t offering sympathy or pretending to understand. She was just… there, calm and present.

    “Thanks,” Clarke said softly, the word carrying more weight than usual.

    Lexa nodded. “Anytime.”

    "I think she is in good hands. Let's go back inside. You know she hates being seen when she is vulnerable like this," Octavia whispered to Raven, who nodded and followed Octavia back into the bustling bar.

    "How is she?" Anya asked, concerned, but didn't want to follow them outside overwhelm Clarke.

    "No worries, Lexa got her," Raven said with a smile, then smirk,

    "Your cousin is single, right?" Raven asked, which made Anya lift her eyebrow,

    "Yes, she is. You think they are gonna realize they are attracted to each other? Or should we meddle?" Anya smirked,

    "Guys, don't meddle too much, alright? Raven, you how Clarke is, you'll be on her blacklist for weeks if not months if you push too far," Octavia reminded them,

    "I know, O. Wouldn't want to repeat that after the last time," Raven said and laughed with Octavia, Anya looked to Raven for a context, but Raven shook her head,

    "I'll tell you later," Raven said with a smile, and the three of them back to talking about this and that.

    As they rejoined the group inside, Clarke felt lighter, though the buzz of the bar still prickled at her senses. She didn’t feel as cornered as before, her focus anchored by Lexa’s steady presence.

    Raven gave her a quick once-over, her expression relieved. “You good?”

    “Better,” Clarke said, managing a small smile. She glanced at Lexa, a hint of warmth in her eyes.

  The night continued without further incident, but Clarke’s thoughts lingered on the interaction. As she walked home with Raven later, the cool air brushing against her face, she replayed the moment over and over.

    “She’s different,” Clarke said suddenly, breaking the silence.

    Raven raised an eyebrow. “Who is? Lexa?”

    Clarke nodded, her gaze fixed on the sidewalk ahead. “She didn’t treat me like I was fragile. She didn’t try to fix me.”

    Raven smirked, nudging her shoulder. “Maybe she gets it.”

    Clarke considered that for a moment, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe.”

    For the first time in a long while, Clarke felt seen—not judged, not pitied, but truly understood. The realization left her both unsettled and intrigued, her thoughts circling back to Lexa’s calm, steady gaze.

---