Disclaimer: I don't own The 100

A/N: So this fic happened at four in the morning. I originally wrote this via text to a friend, but then that text turned out to be 547 words long so I was like, welp, might as well just publish it while I'm at it.

So I am.

And for those who are following my other story, I'm working on the next chapter now. It's the last month of the semester, so college is kind of really killing me right now... And apparently the only time I can manage to write, is at FOUR IN THE MORNING. So I'm really sorry about the delay.

Enjoy! X

"I miss you"

It's a simple message, but Clarke hadn't texted that number in quite some time, so she couldn't stop the familiar ache in her bones. But, even so, she still expected it.

What she didn't expect, however, was to see "read 2:46 AM" and to receive a reply a minute later.

"Do I even know you?"

The gray speech bubble was innocent enough, but Clarke could hear her heart thumbing in her chest.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. No, you don't know me – at least I don't see how you would, because on my end that would be some serious 'other world' kind of stuff. It's just someone I used to know had this number. I really am sorry; it didn't even cross my mind that someone would have this number now."

Clarke had never been so embarrassed in her life (which was actually kind of stupid because it was just a text). But at least the stranger would brush her off and she could be done with this event.

But of course that doesn't happen.

Clarke watches the "…" bubble pop up and waits to see what the stranger is typing.

"Who was it? And why wouldn't they have this number anymore?"

Clarkes takes a deep breath. Years of happy memories and nights filled with unanswered cries rush into her,

"If you don't mind me asking, of course,"

and leave with a soft exhale. Clarke always believed in the beauty of sharing a part of your soul with strangers. So why not take a chance now?

"It was my dad's number. Well, old number, now, I guess. He died a little while back. Which, honestly, thinking about it now, I really don't see why this number would still be listed as his."

(Because why else would a number still be in use by someone whose story had been finished being told?)

Once again, Clarke expected this stranger she had unfortunately intruded upon to send a simple "I'm sorry" text and that would be the end of that.

Once again, however, Clarke was wrong.

"I lost someone, too."

Clarke was suddenly reminded that she's not the only person in the world who stays up until three in the morning, with the notches in her bones longing for a time when she didn't have the smooth wood of a coffin burned into the back of her mind.

Her fingers shook as she typed out a reply.

"I'm sorry. Who was it?"

It takes the stranger thirty-seven seconds to start typing after they read Clarke's message. It takes them another three minutes and forty-one seconds to finally send a reply.

"Her name was Costia. She had a smile like the sun and a laugh like wind chimes. And I loved her."

And then suddenly, just like that, Clarke finds herself talking every day to this stranger.

They give each other code names – "it's so stupid but my friends call me princess," "well mine call me commander," because it adds to the mystery of it all. And mystery and magic almost always directly coincide with each other. But most importantly, in a world that has already taken so much from them, what else have they got to lose?

So they talk.

Every day.

About everything.

Clarke tells the commander about this pretty girl she keeps seeing around the city. She tells the commander about wanting to drop out of med school to pursue art because nothing makes her feel more alive – but that she knows her mom would be disappointed in her. She tells the commander about how she believes she lived amongst the stars in a past life.

In return, the commander talks to the princess about this stranger they wished they had the guts to talk to – which is dumb because "fear is weakness" but she has the brightest eyes they've ever seen. In return, the commander tells the princess that their biggest fear is dying alone. In return, the commander recalls for the princess memories about learning how to make crowns out of flowers with their older sister.

And then finally, on a crisp autumn day, the pretty girl Clarke keeps seeing runs into her at the park and talks to her. The beginning is filled with awkward smiles and soft hands but with two hearts thrumming determinedly.

The pretty girl tells Clarke she has beautiful eyes, and Clarke tells her that, it might be rare - but when it happens - the stranger's laugh sticks with her throughout the day (like fingerprints on her rib cage).

So the pretty girl, whose name she learns is Lexa, and Clarke get coffee and it's everything they both secretly hoped it would be. At the end of the date they exchange numbers only to see that they already have the other's number.

"Commander?"

"Princess?"

Later, their weeks would be filled with blushing smiles, traditions in the making, and whispered promises. Later, when life, as it normally is, is sometimes cruel, they would fight. They would clash. They would both build burning blazing fires in their eyes and in their souls. One with words tearing from her throat like a lion, and the other striking with cold and calculated vocabulary.

But, at the end of the day, "Lexa-Love" would text "Clarke 3" that she would make her a true princess, flower crown and all. And Clarke would reply that she's glad to not be living in the sky anymore because Lexa gives her more than any of the stars ever could.

It'll be a relationship built on an "I miss you," but with a pinch of fate and dash of luck, it'll lead to an,

"I'm so glad I found you."

But for now, it's a "nice to finally meet you," that feels exactly like an,

"I love you."

Fin.

Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to write a review or drop a DM about whatever! And sorry if there are any mistakes ... Again... I wrote this at 4 in the morning lol.

Thank ya bunches! :)