Let me know what you think of the story. Title comes from I'm A Fantastic Wreck by Montaigne.

Clarke knew she had fucked up the second she opened her mouth, she just had no idea how she managed to do it so soon into the school year. She didn't regret signing up to be in a room with a random, in fact, she had done it on purpose; it would be a lot harder to study if she were rooming with one of her best friends. And so, she stepped into her new room four days before classes were due to start, and saw a thin brunette struggling to put her duvet into its cover. Dropping her bags by the foot of her bed, Clarke went over to help her new roommate, and together they managed to wrangle the bedding together.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," the girl said, wiping her brow. "I'm Lexa," she adds, offering Clarke her hand. Clarke took a second to appreciate the girl standing in front of her. She wore black jeans that showed off the shape of her long legs, and a muscle tee which allowed Clarke to see the beginning of a tattoo on her left shoulder. Her smile was small, but it was sincere, and it made Clarke want to smile, too. And her eyes, goddamn, her eyes. Bright green and inquisitive, crinkled by the smile.

"Clarke," the blonde replied, shaking the girl's hand, "and don't mention it, you can help me do mine later."

It was as though Clarke's touch had burned Lexa; the brunette withdrew her hand with lightning speed. She stared at Clarke with an unreadable expression, her eyes wide and unblinking.

"Are you okay?" Clarke asked. Lexa clenched her eyes shut, as though looking at Clarke was causing her pain.

"I'm sorry, I've, uh, I've got to…" Lexa reached behind her and grabbed the grey hoodie and cellphone that lay on the bed, and without another word she was gone, the door slammed shut behind her. Clarke stood, in the middle of the empty room, her thoughts slowing down and focusing only one thing.

What the fuck had she done to Lexa in the thirty seconds they had known each other?

/

Lexa didn't come back that night, and Clarke would've been more worried had she actually known the girl. It hadn't taken Clarke that long to unpack her things, and it was even easier once Octavia dropped by to help her. She had wanted to tell Octavia about the strange brief encounter, but something stopped her. Maybe it was because she still couldn't figure out why Lexa had stared at her like that, or maybe it was because there was something about those bright green eyes that Clarke didn't want to share with anybody just yet.

Clarke woke up to an empty room, Lexa's bed undisturbed opposite her own messy one. More annoyed than she has any right to be, she got dressed quickly, before heading to the main office before breakfast.

"Hello," she greeted one of the women behind the counter, "I have a security deposit to drop off?" As the lady busied herself finding the correct forms, Clarke let her eyes wander around the office, spotting a familiar face talking to somebody at the other end of the counter.

"Please," Lexa begged the secretary, "I need to switch rooms. I'll take any other room in the entire school."

"I'm sorry," the other woman replied, "but your rooming situation was already last minute as it is, and we simply cannot find you a new one this soon before the semester begins."

As though she can sense Clarke's presence, Lexa whipped around, staring daggers at the blonde. Clarke offered a small wave.

"Good morning Lexa," she called out, almost positive that Lexa winced at her words. The brunette turned back to the secretary.

"Please," she said, one last, desperate attempt to get her way.

"I'm sorry," came the reply. Turning to face Clarke's direction once more, Lexa's face was impassive, emotionless and calm. She left the room, ignoring Clarke as she went, and leaving a blonde in her wake, hurting for reasons she couldn't quite put her finger on.

/

Clarke sat on her bed eating pizza, Raven's head in her lap. She hadn't seen Lexa in three days, but she had a suspicion that the brunette was sneaking in when Clarke wasn't around to get changes of clothes. Octavia swirled in the wheelie chair that sat at Clarke's desk.

"So where's this roommate of yours?" Raven asked, a mouth full of pizza, "we've literally hung out in your room 24/7 for three days, and she's yet to appear."

"I, uh, I honestly have no idea," Clarke mumbled, "I saw her for like five seconds, and then she bolted and I haven't seen her since."

"What's her name?" Octavia asked.

"Lexa," Clarke replied. The name left a strange feeling in Clarke's mouth, as though she were unworthy of saying it.

"Tallish, dark brown hair, green eyes?" Octavia questioned. Clarke put a foot out to stop her friend spinning the chair.

"You know her?" Clarke inquired, her eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, she's good friends with Lincoln," the brunette said casually, referring to her boyfriend of a year and a half, "she's awesome, just transferred schools. You two would get along really well."

"I doubt that," Clarke replied, even more confused than ever. She explained to her friends what had happened during their first encounter.

"Bitch sounds crazy," Raven offered.

"No, I met her a few times during the summer. She's really smart, and funny. Lincoln's known her forever," Octavia countered, as though Lincoln knowing her vouched for Lexa's personality. "She'll be at his First-Day-Back party tomorrow night, I know that. Maybe try speak to her there."

/

The following night, Clarke arrived at Lincoln's party fashionably late, without either of her friends; Raven and Octavia had arrived earlier to help Lincoln set up. Clarke scanned the crowd with a critical eye, trying to spot someone she knew. In an instant, she saw Lincoln with his arm around Octavia, talking to Lexa, whose back was to Clarke. She made a beeline for them, grabbing a drink out of a jock's hand and downing it for some liquid courage. She could hear a laugh come from Lexa, a sound that made her stomach flip and her mouth go dry.

"Octavia!" Clarke called out, and immediately Lexa's body tensed. The blonde watched carefully as Lincoln's eyes darted from her face to his friend's, a look of shock and understanding crossing his features, as though he were realizing something for the first time. Without turning around, Lexa darted away, escaping into the crowd before Clarke had managed to get to them. Octavia frowned, and stared up at her boyfriend. Clarke did the same.

"Lincoln, what the fuck is wrong with your friend?" Clarke demanded.

"I had never realized before…" he said to himself, ignoring the angry woman in front of him. "Excuse me," he said, following Lexa's footsteps in order to find her.

"That was strange," Octavia mused. Clarke laughed humorlessly.

"O, that was fucked up! Why does she act like that when I'm around?" Clarke ran a hand through her hair, her frustration pouring out. "What did I do wrong?"

"So you got a weird roommate, what's the big deal?"

"I don't want somebody to hate me for no reason!"

"Sure, that's why." Octavia laughed with a sip of her drink, taking delight at the speed at which Clarke was blushing. Clarke ignored her.

"That's it. My mission this year is to make her like me."

"Good luck with that, Princess."

"Fine. I'm gonna get her to tolerate me."

/

Getting Lexa to tolerate Clarke would've been a lot easier if the former girl were ever in their room. Two weeks into the semester, and Clarke only ever saw the elusive brunette at midnight, when she'd return to their room and go straight to sleep. She was always up and gone before Clarke woke. But most frustrating of all was the fact that Lexa would hang out with Octavia and Lincoln, and from O's reports, Lexa seemed like a normal, funny, intelligent person.

So why the fuck does she hate me?

She was struck by the idea late one afternoon. Walking back to her room, she passed by the library, and through the big glass windows, she could see Lexa sitting alone, a large law textbook in front of her. She happened to be seated across from Monty, a boy from Clarke's psych class. With a nervous confidence, Clarke entered the building, and went up to Monty.

"Hey, Monty, you mind if I join?"

Her head snapped up immediately, and from the corner of Clarke's eye, she watched the green eyes look around at the full library; there was nowhere else to sit.

Monty gestured for Clarke to sit down, and the blonde thanked him, taking out her sketchbook.

"I need to finish a sketch for one of my arts subjects," she whispered to the boy.

"That's cool, what do you have to draw?"

"Something beautiful," Clarke replied, looking pointedly at Lexa as she spoke, "so I decided to draw the library, y'know, the beauty of intelligence and literature." Lexa refused to look up, intent on ignoring Clarke's obvious ploy to annoy the life out of her. But luckily for Clarke, Monty was in a chatty mood.

"Ah, that's a really cool idea. Reminds me a bit of how Aristotle talks about mathematics when talking about beauty and symmetry; math isn't really the first thing I think of when constructing ideals of beauty." Goddamn, Clarke loved that her friend was a philosophy major.

"I was thinking more along the lines of challenging the Classics, y'know? Poetics talks about beauty being in wholeness, but we know that no one thing could ever be whole and completely perfect, but-"

"Shh." Lexa interrupted. Clarke grinned to herself.

"But the beauty of intellect is that it's unwhole in the sense that you're always adding to it, and you can combine your intellect with someone else's."

"You're actively trying to achieve the beauty," Monty said, nodding.

"And the wholeness of that desire and pursuit is-"

"The beauty itself," Monty finished for her. "Fantastic."

"Shhhhh," Lexa whispered again. Strike two, Clarke thought.

"But then why also look at the beauty of literature?" Monty questioned again.

"The truth is that fullness of soul can sometimes overflow in utter vapidity of language, for none of us can ever express the exact measure of his needs," Clarke replied.

"That's wonderful," Monty said, and Lexa let out a small huff, an almost laugh.

"It's Flaubert," Clarke explained, "I liked tying in that idea of fullness and expression to the wholeness of beauty. How language fails us so often."

"Would you say-"

"Can you both please just shut the fuck up?" Lexa finally burst, shooting from her chair, palms resting on the tabletop. "This is a goddamn library, and you haven't stopped talking for a moment since you walked in!" Heads began to turn as Lexa's voice echoed around the library, eager to see what the yelling was about.

"Sorry, we were just-" Monty tried to apologize, but the brunette girl cut him off with record speed, her angry eyes never once leaving Clarke's. Clarke just stared back defiantly.

"Not only are you making it impossible to study, but you've completely butchered Aristotle's writings with your piss-poor interpretations, and if you're gonna quote Flaubert, at least choose something worth quoting, and not the bullshit predecessor to one of the greatest lines ever in literature!" Lexa stood, seething, waiting for Clarke to give any sign of recognition or apology.

"Are you quite done?" came a voice from behind Lexa, and the girl whirled around to see one of the librarians standing behind her. Lexa shrunk under the glare of the older woman.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Out, please. You're banned for the rest of the semester." Lexa's mouth fell open into a comical 'o'.

"But-"

"No buts. I've never seen such carry-on in this library; you're disturbing everyone here." Lexa looked around the room, everybody's heads going back to their work at the same time. With one last malicious glare at Clarke, Lexa gathered her things and left the building in a huff. The librarian turned on Clarke next.

"You. Gone. Now." Clarke looked at her in shock.

"What did I do?"

"You provoked her, and you used Flaubert to do it," the librarian replied, horrified. Clarke grumbled as she packed up her things and headed out the door, though she wasn't annoyed for too long. Lexa being banned from the library meant that she would have to spend more time in their room.

Which means I can make her tolerate me.

/

Lexa sat at her desk, scribbling away in a notebook when Clarke walked into the room.

"Hey," Clarke said, dropping her bag by her bed. "I'm sorry I got you kicked out of the library."

Lexa doesn't respond, nor does she show any acknowledgment of Clarke's presence in the room.

"It doesn't matter that you ignore me, or whatever. I can still talk. And I will. I'll keep talking until you talk back."

The scratching sound of Lexa's pen against paper intensified as the girl hunched over her notebook just a tiny bit more.

"You see, I'm good at getting my way; I'm an only child." Clarke flopped down on her bed as the sound of rain started against the window. The blonde girl sighed dramatically.

"Of course it's raining, just perfect. I was supposed to go on a run with Raven tonight, and now it's pouring. And Raven will still make me run with her, because 'a little rain won't stop a Reyes'," Clarke imitated.

"You and Raven would probably get along really well. You'd spend all your time together complaining about how annoying I am right in front of me," she laughed. "Actually, you're both really smart, so you'd also talk all about politics and science and religion, and Octavia would join in at first, and so would Lincoln and so would I, but by the end of it, it would just be you two debating the use of the Oxford comma or something silly."

And that's how it went- Clarke would talk to Lexa like the latter were a journal or diary, pouring out random thoughts and feelings, sharing about her day. Clarke would tell her roommate all about her friends in college, all about the friends she had in high school, the shitty boys who wouldn't take no for an answer, the girls that made her realize that maybe she wasn't as straight as she had liked to think.

"My psychology professor is an old pervert, and I'm this close to complaining to the faculty head about him."

"Octavia's major might be in business, but I always thought she'd make the best teacher for some reason. She's a hardass, but she cares like there's no tomorrow, and she's always happiest when she knows she's making a difference, y'know?"

"I would die if I couldn't take at least one art class with this biology major, so I'm really happy that they're letting me take them as gen-eds."

And then one day, Clarke doesn't talk. When Lexa woke up, she tried not to notice the red rims around the blonde's eyes, or the odd sniffle that would break the silence. She tried not to notice the calls that Clarke kept ignoring, or the way she slammed the door on her way out. And later that evening when Lexa returned to their room after dinner, she pretended not to notice Clarke crying on her bed, Octavia failing to comfort her.

They went to bed early that night, and as Lexa reached out to turn off her bedside lamp, she heard Clarke clear her throat.

"He died ten years ago tonight," she said softly, "and every year I think I'm gonna be okay, every year I think it'll get easier, but it never does. Ten years, Lexa. Ten. I've officially spent half my life without my dad and it still hasn't gotten easier."

Lexa was glad it was dark, that way Clarke couldn't see the tears that were pooling in the bright green eyes across the room, and Lexa wouldn't be even more tempted to comfort the other girl.

"Sometimes I wonder who I'd be if I wasn't the girl whose dad died. Everyone tells you how brave you are, how special you are, and you start to think that the most important thing about you is your dead relative. It's so fucked up.

"And then I'm like, would I be kinder if he were still alive? Would I be funnier or be at a different college? Would I have a different taste in films or music or books if he had been around to recommend his favorites? How much of me is made up of not having a dad around?"

Quiet settled around Clarke's words and the two girls lie in the night's silence.

"I'm sorry, Lexa," Clarke whispered, "for whatever it was I did to you, whatever made you hate me so much. Goodnight."

And only when she heard Clarke's breaths deepen and even out in slumber did Lexa reply.

"Goodnight, Clarke."

/

Clarke paced around the room in annoyance, checking her watch every minute or so. From what Lexa could deduce, Raven and Octavia were late picking her up for their Girl's Night Out, and she was starting to get pissed.

"This is just classic Raven, I'll tell you," Clarke told Lexa who was reading on her bed. "She's probably gotten changed like three times and decided to stop for slushees on the way here. Meanwhile, I'm just supposed to wait around until they're good and ready to show up."

Lexa lazily turned the page of her book, much more invested in it than she was in Clarke's social life. She rolled her eyes as Clarke's phone rang its obnoxious ringtone.

"Finally, Octavia. Please tell me you're outside," Clarke huffed as she answered, still pacing around the room. She stopped suddenly, not moving an inch, as the voice on the other end of the phone spoke muffled words that Lexa couldn't hear. Lexa watched with mild concern as Clarke's expression grew more and more worried, the blonde running a hand through her thick hair.

"I'll be there soon," Clarke promised into the phone, before walking over to Lexa's bed, and taking the book out of the brunette's hand.

"I know you hate me or whatever, but here's what's going to happen," Clarke said, her voice manically calm, as though in an instant she would break down or go mad. "You are going to put on a jacket and shoes, and you are going to take my car keys, and you are going to drive me to Grounder Hospital because I can't drive myself because I don't trust myself to drive right now." Clarke began pacing the room once more, this time her steps more harsh, her body more rigid.

"Lincoln said there was an accident and Octavia's okay and he's there with her but Raven was really banged up and-and-and-" Clarke's words morphed into sobs, and she couldn't catch her breath. She couldn't hide her surprise when Lexa put a hand on her shoulder, and tried to get her to calm down.

"Shh, come on. Let's go."

They drove in almost silence, the only sound between them the low rumble of the aging car and the soft late night radio. Lexa listened quietly to the short shallow breaths coming from Clarke, and it took her a while to realize that she was saying actually saying something, over and over again, a mantra to keep her sane until they got to the hospital.

"She's okay. She's okay. She's okay."

They found Lincoln and Octavia in the waiting room, and the two look tired and sad. Octavia was covered in cuts, one on her forehead had stitches; her arm was in a sling. Clarke looked like she was about to explode waiting for information; nobody seemed to want to speak first.

"How is she?" Lexa offered, and Clarke looked grateful, though she stared straight ahead.

"She's in surgery now," Lincoln replied. "They don't know how long it'll take. But she was, uh, she was pretty bad."

"Have you called her mom?" Clarke asked, and Octavia nodded.

"Last we spoke to her she was getting on the next available flight." Clarke slumped down into one of the hard plastic chairs, her head in her hands.

"What the hell even happened?"

"Drunk asshole driving a huge van. Hit her side of the car. Really really hard." Octavia shook as she spoke, and Lincoln threw a big, comforting arm around her uninjured shoulder. The foursome sat for what felt like an eternity, waiting for news about their friend, waiting for her mother to arrive. Finally, as the night turned into morning, a doctor pushed through the doors and approached the friends.

"You're friends of Miss Reyes?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Her mother's on her way now," Clarke answered.

"Can you tell us how she is?" Octavia asked, her eyes pooling with tears.

"It was touch and go for a bit, but she's a fighter. Really pulled through." The four kids let out a sigh of relief knowing their friend was alive.

"Our biggest concern is now her leg, which was completely crushed. There appeared to be some nerve damage; it was a mess."

"Will she be able to walk again?" asked Lincoln.

"I really hope so. Why don't you kids go back to school and get some rest? We'll take good care of her until her mom gets here, promise. Have a good night."

The four stood, unsure what to do next.

"O you should go home," Clarke finally said, finding her voice again. "Lincoln, take her home." Before the two could protest, Lexa stepped in.

"Clarke and I can stay here and wait for Mrs. Reyes. Octavia, you need to rest. We'll call you if anything happens, promise." Lincoln bent down and hugged his friend closely, before turning on Clarke and giving her the same treatment. The couple left, leaving Clarke and Lexa in yet another silence.

"Thank you, Lexa," Clarke finally said.

"You're welcome," Lexa replied.

"You know, I still really don't know what I did to you. It's almost like you couldn't stand me from the moment you saw me," Clarke laughed humorlessly. Lexa hesitated momentarily, before deciding to speak.

"It wasn't from when I first saw you," she said, turning to find the blue eyes that she begrudgingly loved. "It was from the moment I heard you."

Clarke waited, unsure if Lexa was going to supply anything else. She could feel the anxiety radiating from her, the Atlassian weight of nerves and the sadness that beared down on Lexa. But she knew not to push, not to push those bright green eyes even further away.

"You walked into our room, and I heard your voice and… The thing is, Clarke, your voice... you sound just like my wife."