"Whitney's mom just called. He's missing in action."
The tears that I see form in your eyes add to my own pain. They remind me about Kyla. About her death, the tears I've shed. About how much I miss her.
No, Lana, don't do that. Don't cry. Why did that tear roll down your face? You fall into my arms, counting on my strength to hold you up. But I'm not that strong. I'm hurting too. I'm weakened in the one place that pains me most. My heart. This is the first time someone I love has truly been taken away from me, Lana. I hurt too.
I pull you closer anyway. Maybe for a moment, I will try to forget Kyla. For a moment, I will try to ignore the empty aching in my chest. I will try to comfort you.
God, you feel so perfect in my arms. Just like a dream. But I know this isn't. I feel your frail frame in my arms, your chest heave with each sob, your cold tears soaking through my shirt and onto my skin. And I press my head against yours as I stroke your hair, letting each strand slip through my fingers. I kiss your head. Don't cry. Please. I'll fix everything, okay? I don't know how, but I will. It's Clark Kent, the big hero and all. I'll fix everything. Don't cry.
But it's like you're pouring your sorrow into me. I can feel the burn of tears behind my own eyes now. I miss her so much, Lana. She's gone. And I can't bring her back. I feel as though I'm at the bottom already. I don't know how long I'll be able to hold you up, before I bring you down with me.
Too late. I can feel my body limp as despair overcomes me and two tears fall from my eyes. Quickly, I blink them away and straighten my self up. You need me right now. I won't let you down. But the tears have already left their mark. The damp trail on my cheek serves as a pathway for my tears, as a river of them starts flowing uncontrollably. And I weep silently, hoping you won't notice. The last thing you need is to mope more with my misery.
You pause. You can hear my muffled sobs; you can feel my wet tears in your hair. I'm sorry. I know you're upset about Whitney already. You don't need to see me cry. Just ignore me, okay?
But you pull away from me, looking into my eyes through your flushed face, and I take a deep, broken breath. I know I look like a wreck. I know my eyes are red, I know my face is flaccid, I know my whole body seems to sag. But I think you see more than that. I think you see that I need comfort too. And that I'm hoping you can give it to me, just as I will always give it to you.
Slowly, timidly, you start to lean up towards me, offering the solace that I want so badly. I crane my neck down to meet your soft lips as they lightly graze mine. But we both pull away swiftly, shocked at its implications. Does this mean my feelings for you are stronger than those for Kyla? That I never really loved her because my heart was still yours? I don't know what you are thinking, but I see my reflection through your eyes. I see myself, and I see that you understand what I'm feeling. That you understand me. And I pull you into a hug again, one arm around your waist and the other behind your head. I feel your arms encircle my back, your head pressed sideways against my heart. Where you belong.
"I miss her," I whisper to the night. To no one. To you.
"I know you do." You sigh. "But at least you're not hanging in the middle, unsure of whether you really lost someone."
"You have the hope of his return to hold on to."
"I really miss him."
Wait, what are you doing? Don't pull away. I need your touch. You look at me now, gazing intently on my face.
"He means so much to me."
Your eyes.they're pleading to me. Your hand reaches up and frames the side of my jaw. Almost inaudibly, I hear you whisper.
".but I don't love him."
Almost impulsively, I lean down to your awaiting lips. And I kiss you, as a stray tear falls down. You intensify it even further, and I can feel your lips pressed urgently against mine now as I slip my tongue into your mouth. Your tongue strokes mine roughly as I reciprocate, each caress an extension of our anguished emotions and secret passions.
We both lost someone. We both hurt. And as we kiss, we are comforting each other in the most intimate way we will allow. Consequences can be damned as you take me into your mouth. I don't care about Kyla, I don't care about Whitney. Take me, Lana. Make me forget them.
But when my lips finally part from yours, I am still crying. I look at you. Your face is moist with fresh tears as well, but you reach up and wipe my tears away. And we embrace again, arms entwined and with no space between us. You can mend the hole in my heart, and I will mend yours. All that will be left will be our scars. But they will only be memories of the pain we once felt.
The tears that I see form in your eyes add to my own pain. They remind me about Kyla. About her death, the tears I've shed. About how much I miss her.
No, Lana, don't do that. Don't cry. Why did that tear roll down your face? You fall into my arms, counting on my strength to hold you up. But I'm not that strong. I'm hurting too. I'm weakened in the one place that pains me most. My heart. This is the first time someone I love has truly been taken away from me, Lana. I hurt too.
I pull you closer anyway. Maybe for a moment, I will try to forget Kyla. For a moment, I will try to ignore the empty aching in my chest. I will try to comfort you.
God, you feel so perfect in my arms. Just like a dream. But I know this isn't. I feel your frail frame in my arms, your chest heave with each sob, your cold tears soaking through my shirt and onto my skin. And I press my head against yours as I stroke your hair, letting each strand slip through my fingers. I kiss your head. Don't cry. Please. I'll fix everything, okay? I don't know how, but I will. It's Clark Kent, the big hero and all. I'll fix everything. Don't cry.
But it's like you're pouring your sorrow into me. I can feel the burn of tears behind my own eyes now. I miss her so much, Lana. She's gone. And I can't bring her back. I feel as though I'm at the bottom already. I don't know how long I'll be able to hold you up, before I bring you down with me.
Too late. I can feel my body limp as despair overcomes me and two tears fall from my eyes. Quickly, I blink them away and straighten my self up. You need me right now. I won't let you down. But the tears have already left their mark. The damp trail on my cheek serves as a pathway for my tears, as a river of them starts flowing uncontrollably. And I weep silently, hoping you won't notice. The last thing you need is to mope more with my misery.
You pause. You can hear my muffled sobs; you can feel my wet tears in your hair. I'm sorry. I know you're upset about Whitney already. You don't need to see me cry. Just ignore me, okay?
But you pull away from me, looking into my eyes through your flushed face, and I take a deep, broken breath. I know I look like a wreck. I know my eyes are red, I know my face is flaccid, I know my whole body seems to sag. But I think you see more than that. I think you see that I need comfort too. And that I'm hoping you can give it to me, just as I will always give it to you.
Slowly, timidly, you start to lean up towards me, offering the solace that I want so badly. I crane my neck down to meet your soft lips as they lightly graze mine. But we both pull away swiftly, shocked at its implications. Does this mean my feelings for you are stronger than those for Kyla? That I never really loved her because my heart was still yours? I don't know what you are thinking, but I see my reflection through your eyes. I see myself, and I see that you understand what I'm feeling. That you understand me. And I pull you into a hug again, one arm around your waist and the other behind your head. I feel your arms encircle my back, your head pressed sideways against my heart. Where you belong.
"I miss her," I whisper to the night. To no one. To you.
"I know you do." You sigh. "But at least you're not hanging in the middle, unsure of whether you really lost someone."
"You have the hope of his return to hold on to."
"I really miss him."
Wait, what are you doing? Don't pull away. I need your touch. You look at me now, gazing intently on my face.
"He means so much to me."
Your eyes.they're pleading to me. Your hand reaches up and frames the side of my jaw. Almost inaudibly, I hear you whisper.
".but I don't love him."
Almost impulsively, I lean down to your awaiting lips. And I kiss you, as a stray tear falls down. You intensify it even further, and I can feel your lips pressed urgently against mine now as I slip my tongue into your mouth. Your tongue strokes mine roughly as I reciprocate, each caress an extension of our anguished emotions and secret passions.
We both lost someone. We both hurt. And as we kiss, we are comforting each other in the most intimate way we will allow. Consequences can be damned as you take me into your mouth. I don't care about Kyla, I don't care about Whitney. Take me, Lana. Make me forget them.
But when my lips finally part from yours, I am still crying. I look at you. Your face is moist with fresh tears as well, but you reach up and wipe my tears away. And we embrace again, arms entwined and with no space between us. You can mend the hole in my heart, and I will mend yours. All that will be left will be our scars. But they will only be memories of the pain we once felt.