Lexa hates crowds. She hates how complete strangers suddenly think it's acceptable to break the unspoken rules of society and ignore all concepts of personal space. Sweaty arms and damp chests press up against Lexa, and she nearly gags when she feels a droplet of sweat fall and roll across her left shoulder. Her only saving grace is the metal railing pressing tightly to her front and running all the way across the width of the stadium, leaving several feet of buffer room between the crowd and the imposing stage before her. Lexa clings to the silvery barricade with all her might. As shitty as this situation is, Lexa at least admires her sister's ability to aggressively shove her way up to the front row at a concert.
I am never going out with Anya again, Lexa vows with intense conviction. Somehow, her crazy older sister persuaded her that coming to see Clarke and the Delinquents' Wanheda tour at Barclays would be a fabulous idea. It was the last stop on the tour, a fitting end for the native New York band. Lexa usually preferred the calm and comfort of a night-in, choosing to catch up on work she hadn't finished at the DA's office rather than get drunk and party the night away. Yet even she was not immune to Anya's persistence, that and the uncomfortable pangs of loneliness that accompany Lexa more and more often these days. Maybe she does need to get out more, enjoy society and whatnot, but right now, Lexa feels like she's made a huge mistake.
Lexa wrinkles her nose as she takes in the musky scent of weed drifting from a few sections away. She almost wishes she had smoked some herself if only to bend her reality away from its current unsavoriness. Anya had gone off to get two pints of beer, leaving Lexa all alone to fend off the space invaders. Lexa distracts herself by staring at the empty stage in front of her. Her mind wanders to the group that in just a matter of minutes would soon light up the stage in all its excessive brilliance.
Unlike most cases where pop culture was concerned, Lexa actually knew about the band and fairly enjoyed their music whenever it popped up on the radio. The group was known for its catchy and eclectic mixture of style. The whimsical harmonies and unique instruments landed them in the alternative and indie category. The bombastic drums and thrumming beats had a flavor of heavy metal and grunge that Lexa secretly loved. But the most critical and alluring ingredient to their success was Clarke Griffin. Captivating, commanding, enigmatic, beautiful Clarke Griffin. The lead vocalist's voice reminds Lexa of a combination of a soulful folksinger and a belting powerhouse. Within a song, Clarke Griffin could effortlessly manipulate her voice to shift between emotional spectrums that left Lexa uncharacteristically moved. Her creativity and musical vision is what powers the dynamic and singular sound of the band. Her experiences and the depth of her poetry drive the layered emotion in nearly all of her songs. To Lexa, it was an undeniable fact that the majority of the band's massive success was achieved by Clarke's genius.
A forceful shove on Lexa's shoulder abruptly interrupts Lexa's thoughts and pushes her painfully into the metal railing. Rubbing her aching ribs, Lexa snaps her head around ready to chew off the perpetrator when she comes face to face with Anya, gingerly holding two cups of beer that have miraculously remained full. Lexa wonders how often Anya had to party in college to gain that particular skill.
"Ugh, finally!" Anya shimmies over to press against the railing next to Lexa, unbothered by the grumbles of discontented concertgoers around them. "I thought I would never get back in time. Wouldn't want you to have all the fun without me!"
Lexa rolls her eyes. "Oh yes, had I known that going to a concert also includes penguin huddling and a free unhygienic sauna session, I would have agreed sooner." The dryness of her sarcasm was met with a beer shoved in her face.
"Bah, humbug. I know how much you secretly fangirl over this band. I've caught you singing 'May We Meet Again' multiple times in the shower," Anya grabs Lexa's hand and wraps her long fingers around the cup. "Bottoms up!" Anya clinks the two cups of beer together before downing her own cup all in one go. Lexa does the same, though mainly because she will undoubtedly spill beer all over herself if she's holding onto it when the concert begins. Anya wipes the foam from her lips before nudging Lexa, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You'll at least get to enjoy the serious eye candy in this band. My personal favorite is Reyes, but Clarke is pretty easy on the eyes too."
Lexa scoffs, but she can't hide the involuntary flush that creeps up her neck and face. Of course she had noticed that Clarke Griffin is attractive. Who hadn't? She carries an infectious energy that only enhances her stunning features. Sometimes, Clarke seems utterly unreal, exuding an ethereal aura of that of a legend or a person larger than life. Other times, she seems completely relatable, down-to-earth, and untouched by the vanity of fame. It was that dichotomous combination that drew most people, including Lexa, into her fandom.
Suddenly, the lights dim and the stadium erupts in excitement, abruptly interrupting Lexa's thoughts before they wandered deeper. Applause and ecstatic screams erupt at ear-splitting volumes, and Lexa can't help but get swept into the joyful pandemonium. Her mood lightens just a little bit as she and Anya exchange gleaming looks. Slow shimmering background music fills the stadium, ramping up the audience as they wait in completely darkness. Backlights gradually light up the stage enough to reveal the outlines of a complex set. Members of the band begin to file onstage, their movements slow and their figures still obscure but for their silhouettes. A small woman with long black hair dressed in a dark leather ensemble makes her way to the drum set, while a tall man with shaggy black hair picks up the bass next to her. The next man walks in almost humbly, his dark skin contrasting starkly against the shine of his white electric guitar as he pulls the straps above him. A tiny but fit girl swaggers onstage, her ponytail swinging wildly around as she strides up to the keyboard and mixer with easy confidence. Anya cheers particularly loud for her and leans closer to the barricade. All members are soon accounted for save one, and Lexa can't help but feel a swell of anticipation as the crowd gets louder and rowdier. The band drowns the noise out as they begin to play the opening chords of a song. It's slow, repetitive, and tantalizing, meant to build upon the growing tension in the stadium.
Then, rising from a hidden entrance in the stage, one lone figure slowly rises in the middle of the stage. She is shadowed and hidden in the low light, her blonde hair the only visible feature aside from her silhouette. Suddenly, the figure is basked in blinding light as the spotlights converge on the woman, and the stadium erupts in ground-shaking ovation.
Lexa feels like she's been punched in the gut. Not ten feet away stands Clarke Griffin, and she is more beautiful and ethereal than Lexa could have ever imagined. Her blonde hair flows in messy braids and waves, reflecting the gleaming light as it frames her face. Her pale skin glows as a light flush sprinkles her cheeks. Pale pink lips are parted as if in awe of the crowd in front of her. Dark makeup accentuates the gleaming sapphire eyes that coolly scan the sold-out stadium before her. She stands firmly with her feet planted beneath her shoulders, her posture exuding one of complete ease and silent strength.
Lexa is surprised at how much Clarke looks like her pictures, which in retrospect is absolutely ridiculous on Lexa's part. Of course she looks like her pictures, she scolds herself, they're pictures, not Picasso paintings. And yet there was something about Clarke's presence and the dynamic way her energy fills the stadium that a camera could never capture. The way her blue eyes shine out into the audience and flash with life. The way her body thrums with the excitement and aura of a larger-than-life figure that demands attention and commands respect. The way the audience reacts to her presence, a group of strangers united by a figure worthy of their mutual adoration and idolization. Lexa realizes no simple snapshot could ever do Clarke Griffin justice, not without diminishing her essence. The sight of her kick starts Lexa's heart into erratic rhythms the way no picture or person has elicited in her before. She feels as if she were looking at Clarke for the first time, and the privilege and vulnerability that came with that thought sent her heart racing.
Lexa takes in the tight leather ensemble that wraps snuggly around the singer with metal buckles accentuating the curves of her waist and chest. Dark jeans look painted onto toned legs and heeled knee-high boots dig firmly into the ground. She looks heavenly and deadly at the same time, and Lexa can't take her eyes off of her.
Lexa is entirely distracted and unashamedly admiring Clarke's figure when she lifts her eyes and finds piercing blue staring at her. Her breath stutters to a halt, her whole body set aflame by the intensity shining in those blue eyes. She can't move, blink, or scarcely breathe. The whole world goes hazy until all she can see is blue, blue, blue. Her mind, the only thing that remains unfrozen, grasps to understand her situation. She must be drunk from that beer or high from all those fumes. Hell, she'd even accept the possibility that she's hallucinating. Because if she's not drunk, high, or hallucinating, then that means Clarke Griffin really is staring at her right here and now, and that couldn't be possible.
Their heated stare couldn't have lasted more than seven seconds, and yet each second felt like an eternity. Lexa stares back, eyes wide, face full of disbelief and unnamed emotions. It is Clarke who breaks their stare first, smirking lightly with a tug of her lips as if she had observed Lexa's previous body-gazing before turning back towards the screaming audience, leaving Lexa utterly dazed and brain-fried. Lexa remains unrecovered several songs into their set, her mind still reeling from what had just transpired. Anya has barely noticed any of Lexa's display, fully enraptured in the music and the musicians onstage.
"HELLO NEW YORK CITY!"
The crowd screams back as Clarke strides with full confident steps to the front of the stage, the hollering crowds growing more frantic and rabid with every swaying stomp of her studded heeled boots. Soon, Clarke is standing on the stage edge right in front of Lexa, and Lexa can hardly breathe. The blonde was even more stunning up close, her blue eyes shining so brilliantly against her pale skin that was already covered with a light sheen of sweat. The reflection of her sweat only made her look celestial as dozens of spotlights turned the small droplets into sparkling stars. As Lexa unashamedly stares at Clarke, she thinks she sees a flash of blue flicker and reach Lexa for a millisecond before pulling away. Clarke begins to thank her audience effusively for attending, declaring her love for her home city. Clarke looks down and admires the leather ensemble that clung to every curve and line of her body. She takes a few seconds to thank her costume designer, Miller, for pulling through despite her eclectic tastes in fashion.
Without preamble, Clarke takes both hands and cups her chest, exaggerating the shadows of her cleavage as she cracks a mischievous grin. "Don't my tits look great?" The crowd eagerly roars back with enthusiastic screams of affirmation. Lexa nearly chokes at the sight, only to recover a few seconds later and join the chaotic chorus with an appreciative cheer of her own. Despite priding herself on her cool and pragmatic attitude, it was painfully obvious that Lexa was not immune to the singer's deliciously feminine body and generous assets. The flush in her face and the tightness in her chest are only growing in intensity, and suddenly she is grateful for the EMTs standing by with stretchers and cool fluids. The girls around her surely felt the same, though they were far more open about sharing them with others than Lexa.
"YAAAAS QUEEN!"
"BLESS YOUR BOBBIES!"
"I'M SO GAY!"
Me too, Lexa thought before she could stop herself. God, what had gotten into her? Here she is, a successful and sought-after criminal prosecutor in Brooklyn, "Commander" of the courtroom, and survivor of Anya's crossfit regiment, literally loosing her mind and body over a pop star.
A hot pop star. Lexa mentally slaps herself before taking a deep breath to clear her mind. But then she remembers the piercing gaze of blue eyes and her whole body goes into overdrive again.
Clarke and the band forge on in their setlist, pounding out hit after hit and filling the stadium with evocative and catchy melodies. Clarke is always drawn back to the front of the stage and nearer to her beloved fans. Lexa feels lucky that Clarke favors the right side of the stage tonight and therefore offers her plenty of moments to just admire the singer. Clarke pours her heart and soul into each song, her body swaying, rocking, and tensing at each powerful phrase. Her voice shimmers throughout the stadium, every rough edge and glossy cascade of melody calling out to the audience like a Greek siren. Lexa is completely enchanted and finds herself pulled inexorably into Clarke's magnetic influence. Part of her realizes how quickly she is falling for a woman who is utterly unattainable. Yet just like the sailors who eagerly thrusted themselves upon crashing rocks, Lexa feels all to eager to fall deeper into this blissful abyss.
"Hey…I smell marijuana," Clarke notices after finishing a song, shifting her head side-to-side and trying to sniff out the culprit. She shuffles and juts out her hip, moving to cross her arms over her chest. Her face is all set to reprimand as she cocks up an eyebrow.
"Who is not sharing?"
The crowd shrieks in response and goes completely ballistic for their rebellious idol. Clarke's proclivity for using Mary Jane during her creative process has not escaped the public's attention. Her fans didn't lovingly dub her the Vape Queen for nothing.
After the crowd dies down, Clarke replaces her smirk with a more sobering expression. Her voice, now serious and somber, reminds her audience that as fun as these legal and recreational drugs are, they can always be abused and used more for harm than good. With a shaky breath, Clarke begins sharing her own experience of abusing alcohol and drugs in the three months after the death of her then-boyfriend, musician Finn Collins, and the split from her record label. She had discovered that the label had intentionally overworked him to get more sales, and the constant exhaustion had trigger Finn's undiagnosed congenital heart disease. He had collapsed on stage while Clarke looked on in horror from the wings. The tragedy was well known media, and yet Clarke telling it on her own feels far more invasive than any media article. Lexa's heart, already full of emotions and warmth she can't quite understand, shatters for the beautiful yet broken artist in front of her. It was clear how much that period still haunts Clarke, and Lexa aches to comfort protect the girl who now looks so small and vulnerable on the vast stage she stands on. Lexa feels a sharp pang in her chest remember her own personal loss – her parents, her first love, her mentor. Suddenly, Clarke Griffin doesn't seem so unworldly and ethereal as before. She is just a young woman who has endured pain and suffering at far too early an age, just like Lexa.
"I had no record label, no job, no secure future, and I had just lost a person who I loved," Clarke continues, her voice unguarded and vulnerable. "I fell into alcohol and drugs to numb the pain, but all it did was make me feel worse. People who I was close to felt far away, probably because the drugs made it so that I wasn't really 'there'." She casts her eyes down, as if she was ashamed and unworthy to make eye contact with her audience.
"But you, my beautiful amazing fans. You stuck by me, made me feel whole and loved when the drugs couldn't. I cannot tell you how much I truly love each and every one of you." Clarke's voice is thick with genuine emotion, her words shining with honesty and gratefulness. Lexa feels those words lodge themselves deep into the core of her soul. Lexa would normally find this absolutely ridiculous, the amount of euphoria and adoration that pulses through her from the words of a stranger who doesn't even know her. Yet as she gazes upon the artist before her, in all her magnificence, she can't help but think that falling for this woman would be the most natural thing in the world.
Part way through, Clarke, one of the few out and proud bisexual women in the music industry, dedicates a song to the LGBT community, one of her strongest and most loyal fanbases. She is radiant as she sings and dances around stage, a rainbow flag grasped in her fist trailing after her like a cape.
"Love is love is love is love!" Clarke chants, waving the rainbow flag proudly as the crowd roars and applauds and echoes it back tenfold. The awe in Clarke's face shines in her eyes as she hears unprejudiced love ring throughout the stadium, and Lexa falls deeper into her spell.
Soon, far too soon, the concert has only one more song left on the set list. Lexa mourns that time has passed all too quickly for her, and she wistfully wishes the night could go on forever. She watches as Clarke and the Delinquents kick off the bombastic finale, lights flashing and pulsing in the background. Lexa only has a few minutes left of Clarke Griffin's presence before she fades and resumes her place in the stationary pictures of tabloid magazines, and the realization feels like someone dumped ice water over her head. She's taken aback at how visceral the ache in her chest feels, and a profound grief washes over her like nothing she's experienced before.
Overcome by the thought, Lexa decides to thrust herself completely into the last song, a deep pulsing anthem full of relentless and dangerous attraction. Lexa fully commits to immersing her body and soul into the rhythm of the drums, losing herself to the depths of Clarke's siren song. Her eyes never leave Clarke, refusing to let a precious second of the artist's presence slip away.
Suddenly, Clarke darts off to the left of the stage running down the steps until suddenly, she is off the stage and on the ground floor beyond the metal barricade. The entire stadium explodes with shrill screams as Clarke takes off in a sprint and begins to do a lap around the ground floor. Lexa bits back her groan of disappointment as Clarke runs out of her line of sight. She swivels around, craning her head desperately to find Clarke in the crowd. Lexa is suddenly worried – is she safe running around the stadium so close to the audience? Does she have security following her? What if she trips and injures herself? Vaguely, in the back of her mind, she is again realizing the absurdity of worrying after Clarke, but she brushes it aside as she continues to sweep her gaze across the stadium, looking for a flash of wavy blonde hair.
Suddenly, incredibly, impossibly, right in front of Lexa is that wavy blonde hair, along with that stupidly gorgeous body, that ridiculously sexy outfit, and that face. That exquisitely stunning face smudged with dark makeup, covered in sweat, and currently focusing two sapphire blue eyes directly at Lexa.
Lexa is pretty sure her mind is broken. It has to be broken, because Clarke Griffin, awe-inspiring, charismatic, and gorgeous Clarke Griffin could not possibly be staring at Lexa, again. But then, said impossible Clarke Griffin takes a step towards her, and everything in Lexa's world that isn't the woman in front of her fades away.
"And the heart is hard to translate
It has a language of its own
It talks in tongues and quite sighs
And prayers and proclamation"
Lexa vaguely hears Clarke singing in the background, but the sound feels distant as passing through layers of gauze wrapped around her ears. She's too preoccupied staring at a pair of lips that curl and wrap around every word and note, weaving a spell that captivates Lexa until all she can think about is how those lips would feel pressed up against her skin. Clarke moves even closer to Lexa, eyes never leaving and blazing with growing intensity and she continues to take slow agonizing steps towards Lexa. Lexa feels an aching pull in the middle of her chest towards the woman in front of her, and she cannot help but lean further into the metal railing. Clarke is only a step away, moving as if she too felt that magnetic pull.
Clarke steps, and the two women connect with a quiet force of an underwater earthquake – silent and unseen yet felt in the very foundations of the earth. Clarke moves with complete fluidity, taking a step and sliding her free hand to cup the side of Lexa's face as if it were a well-worn move rather than the first touch. Lexa is briefly aware of Anya's ecstatic whooping and the shoving of disembodied arms desperate to reach out and touch the superstar in front of them. But she can't feel anything but the scorching heat of Clarke Griffin's hand as it brushes up her face and slides across her hair, brushing damp strands with tenderness that Lexa had never felt before. A rush of emotion sweeps through Lexa, something so strong and shocking and yet so completely right.
"And I would give all this and heaven too!
I would give it all if only, for a moment,
That I could understand the meaning of the words you see
Cause I've been scrawling it forever but it never made sense to me at all"
Clarke croons into the mic, never breaking her stare with wide green eyes. She takes one last step to bring her whole body against the metal barricade that separates her from Lexa and slips her foot in a slot on top of the bottom metal rail. Clarke heaves herself up, and suddenly Lexa finds herself mere inches from the most gorgeous sight she's ever seen. Clarke gazes at her, eyes trailing across her face, her lips curving into a grin that radiates giddiness, and Lexa has never felt more alive and dead at the same time. She's vaguely aware of the stadium going wild as fans crowd her to get closer to Clarke. But lack of personal space is the farthest thing from her mind, especially when she can almost feel the heat radiating from the beautiful singer.
Hands are on Lexa's face, caressing her temple and gliding over glossy hair, pulling her unbearably closer to Clarke. Clarke lifts her head every so slightly, bringing Lexa's face just slightly below hers so that her forehead rests on the crown of Lexa's head, her nose skimming the surface of Lexa's forehead as she leans in. Lexa swears she takes in a deep inhale as if overcome by their proximity. Lexa is absolutely overwhelmed. She slides her eyes shut and releases a trembling exhale as she feels Clarke's own breath tickle and heat her cheeks. Without thinking, Lexa reaches out a hand and gently grasps Clarke's wrist, her other hand travelling further and daring to return Clarke's touch by cupping the side of Clarke's face. Lexa has no idea where she summoned all this bravado, her only thought was to keep Clarke as close to her as possible and relish her touch, her smell, her warmth. She can almost hear the satisfaction ringing in Clarke's voice as she sings her last stanza.
"…And all my stumbling phrases never amounted to anything worth this feeling
All this heaven never could describe such a feeling as I'm feeling
Words were never so useful
So I was screaming out a language that I didn't know existed before."
The music fades to a glittering conclusion, and acute pain rams through Lexa when she realizes that now, it truly is over. She feels Clarke gently pull back, her touch still lingering on damp skin, and Lexa briefly entertains the silly thought that Clarke too may feel just as reluctant as she is to have lost contact. Blue eyes once again connect with green, and a spark flashes through Clarke's eyes before she suddenly darts her head forward and plants a lingering kiss on Lexa's cheek. Lexa is stunned. Her jaw drops as her hand involuntarily squeezes Clarke's wrist still captured in her grip. Clarke just grins at her, pulling the mic away from her before leaning in again.
"Thanks dollface," Clarke purrs before offering her a perfect wink and bringing the mic back to her face.
"THANK YOU NEW YORK AND GOODNIGHT!"
Clarke suddenly turns and makes a mad dash back to the stage and disappears in a flash of shiny leather and golden hair, leaving Lexa completely dumbstruck and stupidly stroking her cheek that was branded with the red of Clarke's lipstick.
Lexa hardly registers the stadium lighting back up, the slow filing of fans off of the floor, or the rain of aggressive jabs her sister lands on her side about what she just witnessed. Lexa's grateful they are packed so upfront and therefore couldn't move just yet, because there is no way her mind could comprehend what just happened while also controlling her motor function. Just before she and Anya finally saw an opening in the audience, hands fall on either of their shoulders. They jerk around to see a giant man, obviously a bodyguard, regarding them with a passive expression.
"Clarke Griffin would like to express her thanks for your participation in the finale by asking that you come backstage and be given VIP access. Would you like to accept?"
Lexa can't talk, too astounded to answer. Luckily, Anya all to eagerly accepts and drags Lexa to trail after the bodyguard, who led them further and further backstage. This is now just another thing to add to the list of events that she still has no idea how to comprehend. Why was Clarke Griffin staring at her like that? Why did she react to Clarke the way she did? Does Clarke's stunt happen every concert? Was it a moment of spontaneity spurred on by honest emotion? Or was it all an act? The questions worry Lexa, but the warmth that blossomed in her chest at the thought of potentially seeing Clarke Griffin again make her feel something strangely akin to hope. Maybe she'll finally get some answers from Clarke, even if they aren't the answers she hopes for.