A/N: I don't own any of this.
Chiaroscuro
"More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!"
-Romeo and Juliet, III.v
In the new, blue twilight, Clark stood at the open hay loft door, his telescope aimed skyward. It was not yet dark enough outside for the interior light to throw him into harsh silhouette, and so Lex could make out every detail of his form as he leaned over the telescope. The light from the bare bulbs hanging from the barn rafters bounced off innumerable bales of hay and created a golden halo around his figure.
This was, Lex admitted to himself, exactly how he pictured Clark - bathed in a warm, almost otherworldly glow, his eyes wide and curious, his face always lifted towards the stars, searching for ... what? Something he'd never been willing to reveal.
Lex wished that he could tell Clark. He wanted it more than anything. Though these evenings they spent together, whether in the loft or in Lex's study or in the corner booth at the Talon, were the highlights of his solitary existence, he desperately wanted more. He wanted to know the smell of Clark's skin, to get hay stuck to the back of his cashmere sweaters and tangled in Clark's hair, to bathe together in that golden light.
His hands balled to fists inside the pockets of his Italian wool trousers. He was daydreaming - or twilight-dreaming? - again. Telling Clark was out of the question, of course. He shouldn't even allow himself to think about it ... all it did was twist the knife a little more.
He could content himself with these stolen moments, watching Clark from a safe distance. With enough space between them he didn't have to guard his expression, could let himself relax and for a few precious seconds be alone with Clark without any pretensions.
He could content himself with that.
He'd have to.
-
Though night was quickly falling, filling the barnyard with lengthening shadows, Clark could still see Lex clearly. He stood beside the silver Porsche, his hands hidden in his pockets, his lithe figure assuming the gathering dark as comfortably as a second skin. In the twilight his upturned face shone like a full moon, mysterious, distant, fascinating.
This was, Clark realized, how he'd come to picture Lex - standing apart, his silhouette sharp and alone against the quavering light, his gaze faraway and fixed on … what? Something Clark could never figure out.
Clark wished he could tell Lex. He wanted it more than anything. Though these evenings they spent together, whether in the loft or in Lex's study or in the corner booth at the Talon, were the highlights of his charmed existence, he desperately wanted more. He wanted to see Lex's skin by moonlight, to get tangled together in the dim, cramped leather interior of the Porsche, to come together under cover of darkness.
He bent over the telescope, pretending to watch the heavens lest Lex realize he was watching him. Telling him was not an option, of course. Even entertaining the idea was useless … like stargazing, it brought momentary excitement, but ultimately it was a cold and lonely pursuit.
He could get by on these fleeting glimpses, stolen glances when Lex thought he was alone. Only then could he let down his own guard and simply be with Lex, spend a few forbidden moments together with no masks between them.
He could get by on that.
He'd have to.